Chapter Eight

"Nothing, mum," I hoarsely responded, still struck by her presence.

She began staring at me with a suspicious eye. "Then why do you scream that way?" she queried.

"Nothing, I was just scared…. I don't know why," I said, and I immediately stopped talking, still unsure of what I wanted to say.

"Why what?" my mum said, still trying to decipher the reason why I screamed.

I pondered within myself if I should tell her about the message I received a few minutes ago. This was yet another trauma I would be putting into her mind. Jenny's death was still lingering in her mind, and adding this one was simply adding salt to a fresh wound. But she was my mother. There was no way I could hide anything from my mum. I felt like telling her. I did not care if I would complete the statement without shedding a tear. As I was about telling her. I fidgeted a little, and then I remembered her scary mood and response. And if I should tell her? It would be worse for me. Because all her anger would be thrown at me whenever I asked her a question.

"Mum, where is our car?" I asked, trying to circumvent the real question.

"Was that the reason you screamed out in that silly way?" she said, putting her lips in a pursed manner, probably to suppress her raging spirit.

Her response was a perfect reason why I wouldn't tell her the message that was sent to my phone.

"Your voice is too loud, mum? do you not think they might trace us?" replied I, still trying to suppress all possible ways of shedding tears.

"I think you are getting silly. The war has totally changed you from the daughter that I know of," she sighed.

"Mum, why are you talking this way? Is it the death of Jenny?" Finally, tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Geez! For God's sake, don't ever mention that girl's name again." She exclaimed, scattering her hair with her hands.

Her yelling made me move back to my shell like a snail that had been attacked.

"I'm sorry, mum," I apologised,

"Be sorry for yourself," I heard her voice as she continued, "Why did you scream minutes ago?"

"Nothing," I answered.

"Your response stinks. Do you know that?" she said, shaking her head rhythmically.

I was about to answer her question when I saw her stand to her feet. As she stepped out of the bed. I wondered what her next action would be, but I wasn't bothered as my eyes changed its direction to watch her movement. Her movement was quite unpredictable at first, but immediately she got to where my phone landed. She picked it up. Then I blamed myself for not being actually predictable that fast enough.

She looked in my direction and smiled, still holding the phone.

"I pray it is locked," I said within myself.

She went closer to where I was and summoned me to unlock the phone. I took a cursory glance at her and my phone intermittently. I contemplated if I should unlock it or not.

"I said unlock it," she spoke out with a commanding tone.

I looked at her again, this time with a stern face.

"I hope you heard me, right?" she said.

"Noooo." I replied as I dragged out my response.

I began wailing immediately as I stood up from the bed and rushed out of the bedroom down to the kitchen. I stared around, searching for where I could locate the cabinet where the utensils were kept. It took me a minute to discover that the cabinet was right in front of me. I opened the door forcefully. I didn't care if I pulled out the door. I scattered everywhere looking for where the knife was hanging. I saw it. I laid my hand on it and held it very tight. I became weak all of a sudden as tears rushed out of my eyes.

"There is nobody that will miss me if I die now. So, why bother?" I said it in a low tone.

I dragged out the knife with an unknown strength that was lacking when I laid hold of it. I turned back to see if my mum was there. Surprisingly, she was only a metre away from where I was standing. I raised my hand where the knife was and moved it slowly closer to my neck. Several thoughts ran through my mind.

Oley is dead, Jenny is dead, and my mum sees me as a strange figure. Who else can be of help to me?

"Your mum loves you. Do you ever have feelings? Don't you know she is older than you? I mean, she understands what it means when someone dies. She understood what it takes for a woman to go through pain before delivering. Do you know about that?" a voice said. I looked around to see who was speaking currently. It wasn't my mum's voice. In fact, she hasn't said anything since the time I went to the kitchen. My mother did nothing but stare at me. The knife moved closer to my neck. Tears continued rolling out of my eyes. My heartbeat raced as if it were engaged in a hundred-meter competition. I looked at my mum's face. Instantly, I saw her eyes had become red. She gestured with her hand, indicating that I stop it. I took a pause, still staring at her.

"Please stop; I can't watch you die. You are a jewel to me," she said, tears pouring out immediately, and continued her speech, "do you not know I love you, my daughter? I had been trying to reach your dad and your older siblings, but it wasn't working. You are the last hope I have that I can see with my eyes. If you die now, I will become a wretch; don't you know that?" she said, bursting into a loud cry.

She bent her head down to the floor and continued crying. All of a sudden, I was weak. I didn't know when the knife dropped out of my hand. I went on my knees. Tears rushed out, faster than the previous one.

"God, why?" I spoke out, with a watery nose.

I felt my mum's presence around me. "My daughter, forgive me. It won't happen again." I stared in her direction while I pondered her last statement. What won't happen again? I pondered.

"Okay, mum," I said, standing back to my feet.

She watched me as I stood to my feet, and then she embraced me so tightly that I felt her warm body on me.

"Everything will be alright, dear. We would come out of this precarious and scary moment." She consoled me. I nodded my head in agreement to her statement and then cleaned the tears from my face. She left me and went to take the knife from the floor, dropping it above the cabinet where my hand wouldn't reach it. After she had dropped it. She beckoned me to go to the bedroom, alongside her. I staggered after I took two steps. She came nearer to me and assisted me in walking straight to the room. Just then I observed that I had a serious headache. I held my head so tight with my hands. My mum took notice of that and asked what the problem was, which I told her. She went to the drawer placed in the bedroom and brought out a Paracetamol tablet, opened one, and told me to take it.

"Mum, it is very serious," I said.

"Sorry, Mila, let me go and get water for you to drink." She said as she didn't wait to know my response and then walked out of the room. I felt a small sense of relief. I struggled to get to the bed as I sat down on it. My sight started becoming blurry. My head became fuzzy all of a sudden, with a lot of thoughts getting stuck in a logjam. My breathing increased and became louder. As weakness ramped up all through my body. Just then my mum came in holding a cup of water and summoned me to drink it together with the drug. After thirty minutes of drinking the tablet, there was an improvement. The headache disappeared. My vision became clearer, although I still felt a slight weakness, but I could shrug it off. My mum continued to watch me and reacted to every nuance of physical expression I made. The light became erratic all of a sudden. Then I wondered what the reason could be. While I was still thinking about the causes of it. The room went dark. "Mila, let's sleep," she beckoned. Immediately after my mum finished talking, another trace of missile rang in our ears. This time it didn't pass above our room, but we could still hear it. I ran over to the bed quickly and wrapped my hands around my mother's body, and then I fell asleep.

Around 9 a.m. in the morning, I woke up from sleep. Everywhere was smoky and darkened. It was strange. I looked at the bed to see if my mum was also sleeping beside me, but I didn't see her in the room. I stood up immediately and rushed out of the bedroom to find out where my mum was staying. I ran to the living room. And then I saw my mum. I walked into the living room so surreptitiously that she didn't notice my movement. She knelt down with her face down, taking a bow to one of the chairs on the left side of the living room. I went closer to her, and I bent my head to know what she was doing. After looking at her, I noticed she was sobbing silently.

I hope she hasn't seen the message sent by my dad's sister. God, please let her not see the letter. I pondered.

I cleaned my face and then spoke out, "Mum, why are you crying?" I said it in a faint tone.

She fidgeted immediately she heard my voice and then cleaned her tears as she raised her face and grinned at me.

"My daughter, are you awake?" She asked in a hoarse tone.

"Yes, mum, what happened? Why are you crying?" I asked.

"It's well, Mila," she replied.

"Something went wrong, mum? Tell me," I pestered her. She raised her left hand up to her head and placed her palm on her forehead, then stared at me while nodding her head. I saw her reddish eyes, which sent a signal to my brain that she had been crying for a long time.

"Mum, can I assure you something?" I spoke out.

"I can hear you; go ahead."

"I'll tell my kids about a country where people died because a stronger country attacked them. The stronger country said they would free a weaker nation from narcist and fascists leaders in 3 days, but it took months to do it. They say they'll free the citizens from the bad leader they have, but instead they kill, frighten, and take away their things, hoping they'll give up. But they won't give up, no matter how long it takes. Even with less ammo and fewer soldiers, a weak country can still hold off a strong force ranked second globally by holding their lines tight and repelling attacks. I shall tell my children the shame and mockery a weaker country will wreak on a stronger country. A country battered will ever be mattered." I stopped talking, taking some time to access her feelings.

"Mila, A battered country will ever mattered. We shall live to experience it," my mum said, assuredly.

"Yeah, we shall live to experience this," I echoed out, dragging my mum back to her feet.

She smiled as she stood up and then sat down on a chair. I smiled back at her with a teary eye and looked at her.

"I don't know what you are going to eat," my mum said.

"Hunger? Is there anything as such?"

She smiled back at me.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang at the gate. The person didn't give a second's notice when resting so that one of us could answer. The banging still persisted to the point where the gate was almost pulled out.

"Mum, who will this be?" I asked.

Shockingly, my mum grinned at me.