Evil breeds

My name is Catherine Beverly Woods but I prefer my original name Catherine Adaeze Okonkwo but who the hell am I to change a name I have on my certificates all because of a greedy mother, a hopeless father, a set of demeaning grandparents or maybe a little spice from an abusive step-father and judgemental relatives. My miserable life started when my mum, an American, born and brought up in New York went to college at Harvard, everything went on smoothly on till she went on a vacation which made her spend two years in Nigeria after graduating from school at Harvard University. Everything would have been beautiful and I would never have been born but Cupid has a little way of shooting his arrows to cause tragedy in the name of love. She came to Nigeria out of curiosity for its art and culture she told me but I overheard her telling her friends that she went there because she was involved with a fellow student of Yale who had also graduated same year with her. She later introduced him to her parents but due to the fact he was from Nigeria or maybe black or from the Igbo speaking side made them not want to see his face. Meanwhile my poor father's family saw him as a failed member of the family being bewitched by a white lady. Each party's family was against it but with youthful love that makes everything look foolish they insisted they were meant to be in the stars and I keep wondering which of the stars, the ones in their head or the ones they kept in the universe. My father and my mother went ahead with the marriage with her parents being absent from the wedding, a few of her elderly friends came but my dad parents came out of what I do not understand. My mom parents ostracized her for some years but later forgave her but never still approved of her husband. My father's parents were ever wailing that their son was charmed with some voodoo and that was why he married a white witch. Some relatives were happy that they had a connection with the whites. Some took it upon themselves to say that they were now from the white man's land. Each time my dad parents came to torment him in the name of visiting they would pitch my dad against my mom which ended up with fights and most time a dreaded silence which was louder than their loud bickering. One fine beautiful day when they were shouting over God-knows-what, my mom scheming parents came around. Why they came no one could tell. They stayed for just three days and convinced that the whole wealth which they would soon die and leave would be hers since they had her alone and would not want an opportunist to ruin her life.

"My dear Emily, you have to agree with your mother that your marriage with your dream man has not been as you expected?" her mother said. My dad came out from the dinning seeing her with her parents gave him the jolts, he angrily picked the keys from the living room table and slammed the door while muttering under his breath. He zoomed off in his car. While this was going my mother's father was whispering gently but firmly with her. I walked up to my mother's mother, she looked at me first then gave out a hand for me to hold I looked up at her and asked a disturbing questions. "Are you here to tell my mother and father to stop fighting or you are here to tell them they should sign divorce papers" I looked at her with an accusing gaze. Each time I saw visitors at our house they would either grave silence or a loud argument in the night that would raise the dead in the dead of the night.

Two weeks I was on a plane to New York City with my mother in a bigger house, bigger garage, a bigger room and bigger silence. My mom told me we were on holidays but I started schooling as soon as summer was over. Each time I asked her when dad would come she would reply very soon.

I hated the wonderful school my mother enrolled into maybe it was the children who came with both parents smiling or the sauciness of my classmate or maybe myself but I made it simple from day one keep out of my way and I will be nice. My classmates were never fond of me for each time I would be silent, I was ever silent, I walked like a ghost and I would never talk to anyone in school even when I was laughed at or asked a question in class I would stand and look at the teacher in a daze. The principal invited my mother to school to ask if I was dumb, my mother started saying I was getting over her divorce. Mrs Clark advised my mother to get me to accept the fact. My mother scolded me that night over dinner but it did not change anything. Then one day, everyone learned a lesson never to cross my path again. I came to school books in my hand and a pouch bag hung across, my usual enemy Stanley the school bully and the star player in Wolfs Football team wiped me on my legs and I went crashing into a paint bucket. God knows which creepy cunt of a .pea side brain had to keep a paint bucket with paint during school hours when we had kids who had the heart of Odin. Everyone had their laugh of their lives but I stood up like nothing happened, picked up my books and was about to go to restroom that was when the devil decided to work magic in his head as he poured the remaining paint on my books. I went into a stage of rage and simultaneously I dropped my books with a ghost smile on my face, that was went the laughter ceased for that smile I had on my face was one that not even my parents could stand. I took my object of concern by the hair and flung him to a locker and jabbed him over and over again like I had seen on television when I was in Nigeria. He fell down and the whole place became quiet. I heard someone whisper 'she's a creep' I didn't care I picked a baseball bat about to wipe him senseless when security came running in and dragged me off. My mom was called to take me home for I refused to say anything, the only saving grace that my mom declared was that they saw everything on the cameras that were installed in school and then a question popped up in my head if they had seen why hadn't stopped him. Everyone afterwards then nicknamed me the Creepy Woods but I never cared. After that episode in school I felt an immeasurable satisfaction. Each time I walked pass there was this consciousness that was present. Even bullies would just whisper. At the end of the term I came out with A's well my mother was pleased but she was stilled disturbed I had no friends, never engaged in any childish tricks.

After sometime she had a job with the UN so I had to see less of her and more of my dreaded grandparents. They were nice and dotting but the evil they had done to me, taking away my father from me made me wish them speedy death. Few years passed I never saw my father and this increased my depression and my silence. My mother started seeing a man named Zane and I was shipped backed to Nigeria to stay with my dad, well my dad took care of me and made me feel at home. I became a talkative overnight. I loved being around him but he had work to do which I encouraged to put in more effort. I wanted my father to be successful I didn't mind sacrificing his company, I wanted him to show my mother's parents that he could be so successful and more wealthier than they could ever be. I became his unofficial adviser. He made sure he told me about all his plans and we would argue into the night about the right step to take in business. He always made sure I was there in every meeting he held. I loved those moments but I was sure to keep quiet at those meetings for the African culture saw it as rude for a child to talk while elders were talking. I loved my local school it was so normal but I dreaded moments when my dad had to travel and would drop me off with my grandparents. They made feel traumatised with their stories of my mother being cursed and me being a waste product a mistake that should never be. Even when I tried to make them like me it was abusive words upon abusive words.

Two years later I was shipped back to my mother because my mother requested for her "precious daughter" she had signed the divorce papers by then I was fifteen. My dad was so sad letting me go s of this time he had settled down after having a big industry in Nigeria and rapidly spreading through Africa but of course nothing he could do would make them accept him or love him. He bought me things and made sure I would contact him on social media and phone. I climbed on a plane with tears in my eyes and hatred for my parent parent's. How could it be that they never accepted each other? I was never going to forgive them ever. I landed at Los Angeles but mother had other plans, she had already booked a flight for us to reach Washington Dc. I arrived at our castle of a house that was with grave silence and servants standing dead men waiting for command. "This your new home, come, you will see your new daddy am sure you will love him" she said with an unusual air of authority I could not recognise my mother anymore "where is your mum and your dad are they here too?" I asked looking at her. "oh they died honey, well they said if I married a man they liked thy would l have all this, money, luxury and life and if I should ask for a….. " she stopped short and looked at me "so you see mummy has got to obey" she said and called on one old man who looked like a century's toy to take me to my room and get my room ready. I stood there with hate in my eyes. I followed not out of obedience but out of the fact that there was nothing I would do. Imagine me running out but to where I would be safe from this madness. I opened my bags only to find the horror of my life my mother switched my luggage my dad gifts were gone. I consoled myself with the phone my dad was with me I began to hate my mother with passionate rage. I tried calling my dad but his number was not reachable, I tried reaching him online but he was not online. I looked around my room it was big enough to house a small house party. The Elizabethan bed with huge silk curtains was too pink for my liking the pink, I wonder if my mother was raising a doll, the or my gothic walls of my room was like some kind of theatre. I went towards the wardrobe and they were all kinds of fashion for any occasion the place spelt excess money. The drawers were navy blue. I laughed my head off what was navy blue doing in a pink room. My mother colour was seen in my room. I went into my bathroom and I got the shock of my life. I could not believe if it was a bathroom or a Chinese Spa. My mother was so odd when it came to blending culture.

I was revived a little after my bath. I took my phone to chat with my friends back in Nigeria. Most of them were not online being more frustrated and tired I slept off only to be awakened by a knock at my massive door. I saw an old woman as I opened the mighty door before I could shake my head she spoke in a sudden whisper. "Miss Wood, your mother has instructed you come for dinner at once. I am to lead you there" I stared at her then slammed the door at her face. The knock came again. I opened it again. She stood there looking at me with pleading eyes. I closed the door and followed her down the stairs, there were elevators in the house but I didn't want any episode like I had two years ago in Nigeria when I attended my father's meetings. Funny though, I got stuck in an elevator for five hours, how I escaped is another story for another day all I knew was I was tired, hungry and too tired to be angry.

The dining hall was big enough to hold a big party the one I had seen at my daddy birthday. I sat close to my new step-father. "Good evening sir" I said bending knees as I greeted my Yoruba relatives in the village. "Come sit darling" he said, my mom as usual was nowhere to be seen. "What is your name, young lady?"

"My name is Catherine Ad...."

"How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen"

"I'm your daddy now, more like if there is anything you need I'm the number one dad to a pretty daughter. If you need anything let me know"

"Yes Sir. Where is my mother?"

"I'm your new dad" her social life was still in use, she was travelling her life about the globe because of her important position at the UN. So I was part of a decorative accomplishment. My mother came home and talked herself to stupor and how I should change, that my grades were the best and she adored that but I needed to make friends. Each time the rants were getting too much I would silently leave or plug on ear pods not to hear her, she could talk too hell and back. I left her when I was bored on these occasions to assignments. After the usual ritual over the dining table I felt I had enough with a mother that never cared, thinking of how irregular my dad was online. . I sat up thinking about my parents' divorce; last week it was my step-father asking if I had a boyfriend. When I ignored him he locked me in my room. I didn't bother because where I come from give a kid three square meals, a well-furnished room, a laptop, a phone, Wi-Fi and a game centre we don't give a damn. In fact having a servant at beck and call was a plus. Her so called husband would be eyeing me so bad that I knew he was not trying to impress me it was more of seducing. The last time I tried talking to her the few times she was picking me from school about her deranged husband I either got a slap or endless tongue lashing. I slept off on my computer system. Nothing was going to change if she did not send me to my father I hated the version of mother I had I am not a spoilt brat but for the fact my mother choose to be money consciousness, greedy and cutting me off from the one person in my life that was interested in not just spoiling me with money but my moral and spiritual part of me made me coil in and hate of the entire motherly existence looking back at my grandmothers were no use to me for they had cared they would have sat back to reason with their husbands. For this I would scorn kids with parents yet I was so depressed. I slept off while thinking at my study table only to be awakened by what I felt, something warm crawling under my blouse coming towards my chest I raised my head up about to scream when my mouth was covered firmly by a hand I turned round to see my tormentor. My tormentor since I came to that house. I shook my head with disbelief was this not the step-father who my father decorated as a saint. The forced hugs and reaction he gave me when I kept quiet about my having-a-boyfriend made begin to suspect the cunt but this was just too much. Not to mention the times he beat when I refused to give him hugs. Each time mother asked why I had bruises on my face, he would tell my mom that my boyfriend of which I had none beat me up and I refused to say his name. My mother would scream at me while I stood still and watch my mother throwing things while my step-father of a beast would give the eyes of the devil. Talking would make my torture the next night unbearable and when I was silent he would offer me extra cash for the week. I was staring at him helplessly, I tried crying but it was choked up in my throat. I thought it was the usual touching and force me to suck him down the zipper. This time he led me to the bed and he climbed on me and when my mouth gave out a ruffled cry he tied my mouth with a thick napkin I always kept on my dresser the beast had turned me at first face down, he left me then I felt my clothes raised to my back then I felt flesh push through my virgina then a sharp pain registered in my head. He went on for hours inside me till I collapsed. I woke up my hands were freed, my dress down but then I knew I was no longer the same. I couldn't stand then I looked at the bed blood was everywhere. I tried walking to the bathroom but I slumped.

I woke up later, I saw myself on the hospital bed my mother crying beside me. I closed my eyes. Weeks later my step-dad told me in front of my mom that he was drunk that that was his first time my mom mumbled that it was okay. My mom knew it was a lie but if she left him that was goodbye to big time money. "Mom say something, I told you everything it's a lie mom do something please" I cried but my mother was sobbing "I'm so sorry" she said staring at him. "If you want to leave you can but it leave you with nothing is that what you want, hmm Emily, I said I was drunk, will you listen to this liar of a daughter over your husband," I stared at him with deep sorrow "I'm at the bar" he walked out.

"Mum I want to go back to dad"

"What?"

"You are always too busy for me mum, I tried telling but you were supporting him?"

Her phone beeped then she froze, I broke up in a frenzied laugh "you have a flight to catch right, you can go" I stood up left for to the yard "I'm so sorry Cathy I really am" she said standing up from the settee. I turned round and smiled "I hope he won't put me in a body bag" I left her stunned. I walked back into my room I didn't cry, I could not laugh I stared at the ceiling till I slept off. I sank deeper and deeper into a nightmare I couldn't understand. I was so quiet that it gave teachers the creeps. I kept replaying it in my head.

Finally I had two years more to finish up college. My mother was getting rare as crack, her beast of husband came into my room and had pleasure as he pleased. The only days I was free from this was when he travelled to have a taste of life around the globe. Till I heard he was down with cancer and would die soon I was so happy that when I went to school I said hi to the Natasha gang. Rumours were spreading about my mother being the owner of the school and my dad was a Nigerian but what saved my hide was I was as fair as my mother but I had my father's hair. Natasha shouted in the noisy hallway "Creepy Woods just said hi" there was an erupted silence that ruled for once in the school hall that was never quiet except school dismal, everyone stared at me. Well, I didn't care I walked on smiling something I never did at all in school. Then a popular bully pushed me "weirdo" he said laughing others followed. Then I turned and gave him my usual looks that unnerved anyone who dared looked at me even my strict aunt couldn't stand my eyes. "If you want to die, say just one word" silence erupted again. I walked past him and headed straight to class. News spread that I spoke to not just one two people. All the classes I attended the teachers were congratulating my effort to speak in school as if I won world war three. Two weeks later I arrived at the hospital with my ceremonial mother where her husband was dying gradually. I came prepared with my birthday gift I received from my father when I was four a beautiful carved knife but of course I hid it in my hiking boots. This day was the chance to life and nothing would make me go back on what was on mind. I made sure my tool was tucked safely in my wellington boots. We came into the ward to see her husband; I sat so far from him while he discussed with his wife, my greedy and ambitious mother. After an hour or two I went out to grab a cup of soda. I came in and my mom told me she wanted to grab lunch at the cafeteria downstairs. "Hello Cat, have you missed me, wished I could have you right now, goddammit come here like a good girl you are" I was weakening but after that speech I threw conscience away and went and locked the door. "Good girl come to daddy" he said grinning with his new bald head. I pulled out the knife from my boots and walked towards him. His face was with horror "put that thing away" he said with a scowl on his face "now Cathy" I raised it to pierce him through the heart but he struggled with his hands. They were strong but my heart was stronger than his bulky hands, blood was spilled everywhere from his hands but my heart was stronger than his desire to molest or mockingly live a life so useless to mankind, then the flashes of his abuses the beating the torture, he was already taking the knife from me when I jerked to reality, the door was being banged from outside, I could hear voices "open the door will you" I still struggled on. "Come on stupid whore you want to kill me here" and then he lost concentration when he heard the jangling of keys at the door knob then I did it. The knife was deep into his skull, I felt a tingling satisfaction down me I pulled it out and in, out and in several parts on his body I felt satisfied till the door opened and I was dragged away while I was still stabbing the empty air. How the knife was taken away I couldn't tell. I was proud of what I was done while my mother looked at me with horror. "Since you couldn't leave him, I did it for me" I smiled talking like a lunatic "I killed him for raping, molesting, beating and abusing me mother something that would be avoided but greed wouldn't let you do it" I said with a grin as they ushered me into the police car with handcuffs.

********

Bang went my cell's door. For a moment I looked around my new room and its content. The room was fairly big with a double decked bed located at the left hand side of the room and a girl was sleeping on the first bed below with her face to the wall. The walls were painted ice blue and a convenience was at the right hand side of the room which was badly lit. I didn't mind to be here at least I would have my peace of mind for the moment. I climbed up and sat down on the vacant bed still visualizing the stabbed body of my mom's husband. I wish I could make him suffer more but of, course my mom would shield him knowing he was the reason why she inherited such money and if he wanted a divorce she sure would lose everything and there were family relatives who made sure of that. Yet my mum was doing great with my dad before they got separated. I still wouldn't forgive my mom for what she had done to me. She just failed as a mother, she just failed to understand that leaving my dad for the sake of inheriting their wealth and according to her provide for me should would say in her defence, which was not what I wanted. Abused by her step husband and covering it up for her dignified name not to be soiled was a stab to my soul. There she was bragging how well she trained me that I was an A student to her other colleagues yet in actual sense she was never around for me to share my sorrows, joys or pain. I was used to a quiet house, a never communicating house master or mistress just nodding and going away. An alarm blared, a warder came in disturbing my thoughts. "You can go for now. I'm looking forward to see you again" the warder said. I smiled and followed him to the counter where my mum was waiting for me. I followed her into the car and we drove home. We walked silently into the sitting room. "Go wash up, the lawyer will be here in a few minute" my mum said as she walked away. I left to my room and later I was in the sitting room with the lawyer. My mum was talking to the lawyer on how I was mentally drained and tried to colour the picture of my being raped and sexually abused by her husband. They went on how to convince the judge was that I wasn't up to eighteen and I what I needed was a rehabilitating centre or they would send me to teenage delinquency jail. When they were done talking what concerned them not me because I had done what I would have done a long time ago, the lawyer said "Catharine please no matter happens don't talk please"

I stood up and looked at my mum then to the lawyer "whether I go to jail or not" I said "I don't care if my mum was around in the first place not travelling to where I don't know her beast of a husband won't have raped me and as for the talking did I say a word when you were talking because if I do she knows" I walked away to my room.

The next day I was driven to school and as I walked into the hallway to my locker people made way for me only a set of popular bullies blocked my way. The biggest among them swung a knife at me and I stood there staring at me. "I heard the news on TV what you did, so tough that you stabbed your dad to death" one them said. I ignored him and tried to move forward then I was pushed. "Killing your dad won't make you though Creepy Woods" I walked on but he pushed me harder that made me trip "If you push me again I will not just stab you, I will slit your throat and shove you down the trashcan and the rest of your gang a bullet to your heads, pair of jackals" that snare alone did the magic I pushed through them went to my locker to keep my bag and get my books for my class. Guess who came around to talk to me, Nell and the gang. They didn't mind that I was a killer of old men already with cancer. "Oh my God, do you mean you stab him you are so weirdly cool" Natasha said. I had turned into a something dreaded and mysterious. Though I had classmates that were just bearing the name my friends I never said anything close or intimate, I only made few suggestions and funny, provoking statement I was still the idol of the group.

"Not only that, he got what he deserved" another shot in.

"He raped you right" Kimberly said.

"No wonder you were quiet, what a father" Natasha said again.

We walked down to the class and took our seats it was English studies we had that morning. Mrs. Green came in and delivered her lecture and was looking at me as if I was going to kill her at any moment. When the bell rang I left the class and went to the school field to sit alone. I wasn't in the mood for any interview; being weird and tagged a murderer is enough. I sat down on a bench and was reading my brains out. Then Natasha came with Nelly. They sat down sandwiching me in the middle. "I heard you do it rough and sweet" Natasha said. I looked at Nelly and was smiling stupidly. "I just guessed" she giggled on "well I'm just telling you because I'm Kimberly's partner and now we are three" she paused and looked at my face and my face as usual didn't reflect any feeling, she went ahead "it will be so hot but right now I and Nelly will be doing a quickie in the bathroom you can join if you are in the mood". They walked to the bathroom. I stood up packed my books and left for the hallway that leads to the library. Then I stopped short the same person who swung he knife at me in the morning was lying dead and his throat was slit. I picked the knife on the floor only for me to throw it back at the body and it went back to his body like a dart to the dart board more doom. I picked it up and cleaned the knife with my hand towel but I stepped back I saw that my snickers printed blood on my first two steps of withdrawal. I took my jacket off and cleaned my snickers and the print it made and hurried to the bathroom. I ran in locked the door and turn the tap too wash the blood of my hand towel and my jacket when the door of one of the toilet opened. It was Natasha and Nelly. "So glad you could join us' Nelly said "what are you washing up there Cathy" Natasha said. "Nothing much I fell on the grass" I quickly lied. "I'm coming" I pushed them back into the toilet and went back to my washing. After a few minutes I washed them up and I did join Nat and Nelly not because I wanted to but any other case of murder on my head meant jail for life. After thirty minutes of silliness we went out of the toilet just to meet face to face with Mr. MacDonald the chemistry teacher. "Where you guys doing in there?" he said. 

"We were trying to clean her up she's on her period" Natasha said

"Well everyone is to the basketball court"

"Why" Nelly said 

"Someone murdered Stanley and we are going to find out who" Mr. MacDonald said eyeing them in ways a dad caught a thief looting his fridge. I couldn't afford to look odd but I was always odd. Then......….the lady with the red hair turned off the recorder she had a look of determination on her face.

***********

The red head girl was sitting in a lounge, in a diner. She would pass for a model. She had a dark shade to cover her charming brown eyes, she had her hair packed in a French plait. She had a beautiful black leather coat on with hand gloves to match. She looked a goddess dressed in a disguise any one passing her seat in the diner turned to look at her again. She gave a ghostly smile and would reach for her hot coffee on the table and sip it quietly. Her slender body rose as she fished from her pocket of her coat and dropped a hundred dollar bill which was way too much for a cup of sugarless coffee. She advanced towards the door when the waiter shouted her about her bill. Her voice came out and it was so cold and metallic "The cup". She did not turn from the door she was facing. The blond waiter hurried to the table only to see a hundred dollar bill "wait for your change miss" she called after her but the red head had stepped out in the streets of New York. Her phone beeped and she opened it, a mail with no address. There was a picture and a note below:

34 Strand Avenue, D-Flinch hotel, block 5, Room 5

She smiled at the message then another mail came in her bank account read in millions of dollars in her untraceable account in Bahamas. This was what she did for money and pleasure. That sensual feeling to dominate the prey had set her in motion as she entered her car, she took off the glasses and she drove off.