The Cockroach.

I woke up with less pain than I had expected. My body felt good. It didn't feel right. Something felt wrong about it. I was sure I was beaten yesterday. Why am I perfectly fine? Why am i feeling better than normal?

The pains in my arms and legs were gone. It felt like a dream. I sat up in my bed and looked at my palms. There were a few scars on my palms yesterday. The broken bottle did it's job well. But I couldn't find the scars.

I had managed to stop the bleeding with some ice from the freezer. But how did the scars vanish?

I stood up for some prayer. I spoke in tongues for a few minutes and gave thanks. I was confused, but I gave thanks.

I stepped into the bathroom and I suddenly became afraid of the water. I dipped my hand into the bucket of chilled water. It was the middle of harmattan, so the night was cold.

The moment my hand went in, every nerve in my arm screamed. But I kept it in there. I had been beaten so much this past week. Pain was becoming normal.

I saw pain as a blessing. There are many who do not feel pain. I could feel pain. I was blessed.

My eyes were wide opened. The shock from the coldness of the water was no more. I took the little plastic container that floated on the water. I poured the cold water upon my bare body. My body twitched.

After my bath, I took a deep breath. It felt like I had new lungs. Whatever was going on today, it was different.

I joined my mother for morning devotion. It was the usual.

I stepped out to head to school. I called school "Earth". I called home "Hell". I wondered where I would find heaven. I was in a group with the worst students in my class. They told lies as often as the wind blew on the trees. I didn't tell lies. If the teacher asked for my side of the story, I would tell the truth. I would also receive the wrath of my group members. I was used to it.

I arrived school late. Assembly was over. As I walked into the hallway, the principal saw me. He sent me off with a blend of cane strokes.

I walked into the class and all eyes were on me. I sat on my seat at the back of the class. I was short sighted. I squinted to see everything on the board, a headache would follow. But today was different. After thirty minutes, the headache came. Ten minutes later, it left.

I continued to squint. Something was different. My vision was clearer. Was it a miracle? Was I mistaken? All I know is, I was blind, now I see.

My vision was not the only thing that improved that day. As my hand scribbled upon the notebook, the usual pain followed. And within minutes, it was gone. Something was wrong. It was clear. As clear as my vision.

At the close of school, I headed home. A formation of four boys surrounded me. I stood. I expected punches to rain on me. What I heard was different. I heard the sound of a blade clashing with a bone. I was stabbed.

They left the knife in my shoulder. More boys arrived. They surrounded me. They watched me bleed. Another knife was waiting. If i made a sound, two more stabs would follow.

Something was strange.

"Why did the bleeding stop?"

One of the boys asked as he stepped forward. He took the second knife and buried it in my belly. I let out a cry of pain. Two more knives went into my back. They decided to end me today. I passed out. The ground around me was stained with red.

When I came around, I was alone. I checked my wounds. I was no longer bleeding. I couldn't find my scars. I couldn't feel the pains. I saw four knives on the floor round about me. I had no idea what just happened.

I stood up. The sky had gone dark. I couldn't check the time, but it was at least past 7pm. I started walking home. The road was deserted. I heard footsteps approaching. By instinct, I began to run.

I never knew I was athletic, but I ran so fast, I was sure some of my bones shifted. I got home without looking back once. A got to the door. No one was home yet. I checked the wall clock. It was 8pm.

Father was working in Oyo state. Mum was probably on her way, or doing some shopping. As I took off my shoes, I felt a sharp sting in the sole of my right foot. A nail had cut into my foot. I raised my foot to see the level of damage. What I saw made less sense than an illogical statement. The wound healed.

I didn't even see the scar. I thought for a bit. Then I removed the nail from the shoe. I placed it on the floor. I stepped on it. It's pointed face tore through my skin. It was like crucifixion. I watched closely. I ignored the pain. As I watched, everything began to make sense.

Slowly, but steadily, the nail was pushed back until the entire nail was pushed out of my foot. The wound healed up within seconds. What had I become?

I threw the nail away and put the house in order. As I put rice on fire, I heard a knock at the door. Mum was back. She took her tea, ate bread, took some rice, and called for prayer. At ended before it even began.

I went to bed. I realized I wasn't tired. I tried so hard to sleep. The more I tried, the harder it became. I finally gave up. I picked up a book. I began to read. It was Macbeth. The book by William Shakespeare.

I read for four hours. 9pm till 1am. I felt tired. Finally. I said a little prayer and went to bed. I woke up. I checked the time. It was 5am. I had slept for only four hours. My body was not just healing itself. Its need for rest had reduced.

I got up and put the house in order. By 6am, I had swept and mopped the house. I made breakfast. I was about to have mine when I realized I wasn't hungry. I decided to test my new limits. So I left the house without breakfast. As I got to school, everyone was surprised.

Some expected me dead. Some expected me late. But I was on the assembly ground at 7:50 am. I was not on admission at the hospital.

Literature class came around. I could see errors in our teacher's analysis of Macbeth. I didn't correct her. She was doing her best. When school was over, I took the long route. The one with traders and pedestrians. The one that was not dark and abandoned.

That might have been a mistake. I heard a gunshot. A piece of metal went into my head. I heard someone say that if you hear the sound of a bullet, it didn't hit you. Wrong.

My brain had a hole in it. Naturally, I blacked out. The people around ran for their lives. I was left there, alone. My consciousness returned as I heard the sound of the bullet pushed out of my brain, and falling on the tarred road. I stood up and walked home, like nothing happened.

The next day, a senior in SS3 called me to his class. He wanted to know what cult I belonged to. His group had tried to kill me twice, but I refused to die. I told him I wasn't part of a cult. He doubted me. I was in SS1 then. That was the last time anyone in that school dared look for my trouble. If anyone was new on the block, and they took my innocent look for weakness, someone would give them an orientation.

By the time I was in SS3, the ones in cult groups gave me a name. They called me "The cockroach".