Even.
The cup clattered to the cold marble floor of my bedroom from my shaking hand, spilling the rest of its content in a pool at my feet.
I grabbed and held onto my cluttered dressing table for support blinking rapidly. Disbelieving.
The drug, whatever it was had taken effect almost immediately, warm and fuzzy, its dark pull irresistible. I fought it with all my will. It was futile, I knew this,I fought it regardless. Partly, no mostly because I didn't want to believe what was happening to me. I couldn't stand to think about the consequences, the ramifications.
Think, think. Who gave you the drink Emem, I tried to remember. Our village mansion was crowded with uncles and nieces and cousins and second cousins . It had been that way whenever we travelled back since I could remember. It could have been anyone. Until I saw the form of a person I recognized in the far shadowed end of the room.
No. No, it couldn't be.
"Why? I-I don't understannnd..." shock dripped from the slurred words uttered with a voice that couldn't have been mine. I felt tired, so tired and woozy. In a split second I vaguely took in the sun setting outside my partly open window casting a beautiful orange hue, why hadn't I noticed that before? Or the cobwebs that adorned my slightly dusty ceiling fan, the lone sock that peeked out from under my bed. I catalogued what I could. Maybe this was the last time I'd see them. Panic struck, a knife in the belly. Maybe I was poisoned? I hoped not. I wanted to live, a very long and fulfilled life. I had hopes and dreams aspirations. Besides, who died on their bedroom floor at 16?
A billion and one thoughts zipped through my mind in an instant.
Then, the room began to spin. I tried to steady myself looking at my reflection in the mirror and saw his, simultaneously, seeing the man who drugged me. He had moved from the shadows to stand behind me, not too close, not too far, perhaps to break my inevitable fall? "How could you!" I whisper furiously, heavy with accusation. With that, my legs gave out as I gave up all resistance, Stumbling backwards into waiting arms. The last thing I saw before the blackness took over was a shadow cross over the face of the man I'd known and loved for years.
The face of my father.
How about making these a weekly post?
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