A Hazel Haven

Chapter 16

♪..Lagos Bridge is falling down,

Falling down,

Falling down,

Lagos Bridge is falling down....♪♪

"There are three, abi?" The laughing voice crooned in her ear. "Want to know which? Oh, it's the one you're crossing, my dear lady." Then it lowered to a baleful whisper. "And down you go."

Jolting awake, Uche whooshed out air. "Shut up," she whispered back. The music emanating from outside registered. Someone shouted. Footsteps scurried past as shadows flitted by the window. Groaning, she sat up, rubbed her eyes and hung her head, blinking lingering sleep away.

Padding into the bathroom, Uche washed her hands listlessly, focusing on the water gurgling down the drain, standing there as though in a trance. The sink suddenly became a bowl filled with lukewarm water. An immaculately dressed, grey haired man sat to her left, watching her compulsive hand washing.

It had been two dreary months since the incident, between appearing in court and sleepless nights, much of her days were spent strictly indoors, much of her time receiving prescribed therapy from various counselors who claimed they could somehow help her deal with 'reality'. It was official: They thought she'd gone crazy, and intended to make sure she believed it as well. A definite diagnosis from professionals buttressing medical reports had made her case even more believable.

"It was mentioned in your history that you've been hearing voices."

" A voice. Not voices."

"Yes, a voice. When did this voice start?"

"Since I sensed the case tilting in my favor, and the nightmares stopped." She replied bleakly. "Sometimes she sings. She has--had a terrible voice, but it's surprisingly sweet these days. Other times, she......."

"Other times?"

"Other times, she taunts me. While am watching a tv show, when I sing, when I think about a joke..."

"Practically anything that has the potential of making you happy?"

She nodded slowly, eyes on the bowl, focused on washing. No matter how long or how thoroughly she did it, they were never clean and won't be ever again.

"And this voice told you to kill yourself?"

"Yes. She said that it would be better for everyone, fair even. Sometimes I sense her watching me, just waiting....."

"So the first two attempts were because she wanted you to do it?"

Uche, sniffing, said. "Yes. She's very persistent."

The man observed her for a quiet moment, said "Do you want to?" She didn't respond. He started to continue when she dropped the bowl and began drying her hands with a napkin. "Permit me to ask a question, sir."

"Of course. Feel free."

"Have you killed anyone?"

Astounded by the question, he managed to look unruffled. "No, I wouldn't say I have."

"And yet you all claim to understand how it must feel like, but, the truth is, you don't. Maybe you need to so you can fully comprehend things. A gun is less personal, less feeling involved. But a knife, you get to feel every thing. It's definitely not like killing a cockroach or christmas chicken, because you know their are consequences. Mostly, you're just too shocked to be terrified in that instant-you just can't believe it-- terror comes later. Anyway, at that point, what only occurred to me was the fear of being caught, the cascade of events that would happen: my mother's reaction, the family's reputation, and of course jail time or even death. Nothing else. But it's all over." It was the most she'd said in weeks.