4- Part of her.

Naya.

Naya sat alone in her bedroom, the moon casting a somber light through the window. Her eyes gazed at the flickering flame of a lone candle that danced atop her nightstand, the only source of illumination in the room. The darkness that enveloped her thoughts seemed to suffocate her soul, as her heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.

It was a cold December evening when Naya and her family received the worst news they could have ever imagined. Their mother was ill, and her time was limited. She was diagnosed with Ovarian cancer, and it was aggressive. Despite her illness, her mother tried to make the most of the few months she had left with her family. Every day she would make sure that her children knew how much she loved them, that she was proud of them, and that they meant the world to her.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Their mother's strength slowly dwindled as she began to slip away. She wanted to live, she had so much to live for, but cancer had different plans. The last few weeks were unbearable for the family. Each moment, each second, felt like a ticking time bomb that could go off any second.

The day finally arrived, Naya's birthday. Her mother made a special birthday cake, and the whole family gathered in the living room to sing "Happy Birthday." Naya's heart was so full of love, yet there was a cloud of sadness hovering over them. Her mother began to cut the cake, and then it happened. She fell to the ground, and everything went silent.

The world froze as they all watched their mother slip away from them, right there in front of them. Everything happened so fast. Naya could not believe what she had just seen. It was as if the entire universe stopped breathing, and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Her screams echoed through the walls, the tears cascading down her face like a waterfall, her entire being writhing in agony.

At the hospital, the same scene continued as Naya's grief erupted into a frenzy of madness, darkness, and anger. Nurses and doctors tried to pull her away from her mother's bed, but she would have none of it. Her emotional state had overpowered her completely, and she was like a hurricane raging inside the hospital. In her frantic attempts to reach her mother, she flung herself around, hurting herself on the machines and medical equipment that surrounded her. Her wounds bled, but she couldn't feel the pain anymore.

"It's not true! It's not real!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice shaking with fear. "She's not dead, she's just sleeping! She'll wake up, you'll see!"

"Let her go! She's not dead, she's sleeping! She'll wake up, you'll see. She will. Go away!" Her words echoed through the hospital corridors, her voice laced with pain and desperation. She clung onto anyone who came near, trying to stop them from taking her mother away.

Her brothers tried to hold her back, but she was too strong for them. She hurled herself at the equipment around, not caring about the pain that tore through her arm as it got scraped. Her madness had taken over her, and there was no way of calming her down.

It was only when the doctor intervened, that she finally snapped out of her trance. He held her down with one hand, as he expertly jabbed the needle into her arm, the tranquilizer taking effect almost instantly. Her eyes rolled back, and she fell back into her brothers' arms, her breathing slow and labored.

Justus Ezeigbo stared back and forth from his wife who was being covered up with a white sheet and moved out of the room, to his unconscious daughter who was being cradled by his oldest son, his eyes bloodshot with tears and a spiral of emotions swirling inside of him.

He not only lost his wife,

But a part of his daughter that day.

------Present Day.

Naya had been woken up by her father. Ever since her mother's death and the incident right after, he had been treating her like his precious egg, with care and caution, hoping she wouldn't fall and break.

He pushed back her wild morning hair, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Naya's eyes had fluttered open in silence, staring back into the dark orbs of her father. Her grey eyes held no emotion, broken, lifeless, and empty. It broke her father's heart to see his princess like this.

"Good morning, my honeybee," He addressed her by her middle name, Honey. Naya blinked back at him, then pushed herself up and mumbled a quiet good morning.

"You need to get ready. You have school today, remember?" He talked to her as if he was talking to a child, in a gentle and loving manner. He stroked her messy dark brown hair as he spoke, watching as his mute daughter yawned into her hands and gave him a weak nod.

"Okay. I'll leave you to get ready, hmm? Come downstairs for breakfast right after."

"Okay," she mumbled quietly. Her eyes fluttered close as her father planted another loving kiss on her forehead. He got up and left the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a quiet noise.

Naya dropped her feet to the floor, feeling the fluffy material of her pink carpet. She dragged her legs, yawning into her hands as she made her way to her wardrobe. Being the first and only daughter in the Ezeigbo family after three generations, Naya was treated like a princess, given everything she wanted and didn't ask for. Her wardrobe was filled with expensive outfits, cute skirts, pretty sundresses, shorts as she barely wore jeans, corsets and crop tops, hoodies, jerseys and vests, and her shoes, sneakers and heels in one corner of the big built-in wardrobe. Her uniform was placed where she could see it, freshly ironed and hung alongside her tie and socks. Naya brought them out and placed them on her bed, then she took out her towel and left for the bathroom. She stripped and entered the shower, coming out ten minutes later with a pink towel wrapped around her curvy body, her hair dripping with water.

Naya dressed as fast as she could, then styled her long natural black brown hair that would reach the middle of her back if she let it free without packing. Her hair was one thing she inherited from her Senegalese mother, along with the colored eyes. She hated them at first because they made her look different from her peers, but now she hated them less because they reminded her of her mother.

She used hairpins and clips to style her hair, packing it into a ponytail then rolling the mouth to form a donut in the middle. She used hair gel to style her edges and put on her accessories; her earrings, her bracelets, and her locket. She put on her shoes, picked up her bag, and left the room, heading to the dining table downstairs.

Two of her brothers were already seated comfortably at the table with their father, bickering about something as they stuffed their faces with loaves of bread. She quietly sat with them, dropping her bag on the floor next to her.