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The Past.
A Day after Nia's death.
19 April 2019.

There was the jingling of a key in a doorknob as it was being turned, leading to the heavy hand-hewn door being swung open. Olamide walked through the door, the door keys in one hand and brown envelopes in the other. Looking at the suit he wore, it seemed as if he had just come from work or a professional setting. He looked very good in it too. Upon first glance, it was apparent the suit was tailored for him. It was a perfect fit and had a wide pattern of herringbone which gave it a sleek and stylish appearance. The long-sleeve shirt underneath it appeared very neatly ironed and as white as camphor. The trousers weren't any different.

It was odd that he was looking a lot better than you would expect from a man whose daughter mysteriously disappeared on her birthday three years ago. Word had it that he was never bothered by Nia Afriyie's disappearance; It seemed as if he was relieved of the pain of having to see his dead wife in the body of a young woman he didn't want anything to do with. He never made any attempt to file a missing person's report at the police station or even bothered to search for her.

"That child has turned into something else! How sure are you she's not with some stupid guy somewhere as we speak?" was all he said when Amara brought it up that they searched for Nia Afriyie. He said that with no care in the world. That wasn't the only instance — There were many others.

Once, he was watching the news when the prevalent issue of street children in Kolontou was being addressed in a documentary.

"...for different reasons, these children leave their homes and society. Some of these reasons include poverty, Sexual abuse, domestic violence, parental alcohol abuse, poor parental care, just to mention the few..." The voice on the television echoed.

Olamide chuckled, a bottle of his usual beer in his hand, as he stared at the journalist on the television screen. He wanted to pull her out of it and strangle her to death for being so blasphemous.

"What about children who are devils in disguise, huh?" He hissed and paused as if he was waiting for someone to reply but nothing of that sort happened. He continued seconds after saying, "What about those children who will kill their own mother at birth just to ruin a perfect home then run away from the house when they turn eighteen?" He stormed over to the television and switched it off. He would hear no more.

"If you ask me, seventy percent of these children on the streets got themselves to blame more than their parents," he added, like some end credit of a vile children cartoon series and strode off.

As the disappointing show Olamide had going on was happening, Amara stood by the entrance to the living room watching him. She heaved a loud sigh when he walked away, staggering like a toddler trying out his first walk. She wished she could do something to help her brother from the dark hole he had fallen into, but most importantly, she wished Olamide was right about Nia Afriyie — that she had only just left home to be free from her father's ill-treatment and not because something bad had happened to her. But if only wishes were horses.

Continuing from that evening, Amara lost count — and her patience in the process — for the number of times she persisted that Olamide took Nia Afriyie's disappearance seriously. He never did. Months passed. A year came. Two years came and now it was the third year. He was still not bothered and it was obvious from how he looked as he made his way inside the house.

He sat down heavily on the sofa that stood in the living room when he entered. He dumped the brown envelopes he held beside him then made an effort to unbutton the suit. While he was at it, he thought he saw someone seated on one of the chairs in the dining room. He paused, standing up and making his way there, curiosity written all over his face.

Whoever was sitting in the chair seemed to adjust to the shape of the chair, so stiffly and straight. Their neck seemed to loosen and had fallen to the side like the person was lost in a deep slumber.

Olamide advanced towards the room with no caution.

"Nia, is that you?" he asked then the thought of it actually being Nia Afriyie made his blood boil. He felt a sudden surge of anger in him. "Where have you been all these years, huh? Do you understand the implication of what you did?"

He held her and shook her, ready to slap her or do something worse to her when he got closer. He never expected what he saw. Nia Afriyie fell out of the chair right into his arms like a young girl stealing a hug from her dad after a long time of being away. The irony of it!

Olamide's expression changed completely from I-will-kill-you-today-for-being-such-a-pain-in-the-ass to that of extreme terror. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Jesus Christ!' he exclaimed, shoved away as the lifeless body fell to the floor, the deep slit across her neck, staring at Olamide in the face. Blood flowed from it, thick and slow. Her eyes were not closed. It was as if she was admiring the heavens or was telling Olamide something. Eyes that once carried life, hope and beauty. Eyes that once brought tears in Olamide's eyes when he looked at them because they reminded him of the night he met Nia at the bar. They now stayed in their sockets, unmoving, lifeless.

When Olamide looked at them, he couldn't help himself but feel like a failure. Just like that, everything he had done to his daughter dawned on her. It was as if he had been dunked in ice-cold water, causing him to suddenly wake up.

"I failed myself, and you too, Nia," was the next utterance he could make. He heard his own voice promising his wife to be both a good father and a mother to their daughter. What happened to him? The guilt sat inside his heart like the fierce fiend of an acrimonious nightmare. He was hurting deep inside but he could not undo how much damage he'd caused. Tears burst out with a force like water from a dam, flooding his face. Once again, he could feel his world threatened to fall apart. He began to feel some sort of emptiness in his heart, a tensile of nothingness took over and held his soul in a way that threatened to kill him completely. It gave him this numbing sensation that the world's weight weighed down on his shoulders and he couldn't do anything to get out of it. He didn't know if he wanted to live anymore.

***

From across the room, Nia Afriyie's spirit form, appearing like a swirling spiral of light, stood there watching as Olamide trembled, his eyes reddened and confused on what his next action should be — call the police or sit there and drink himself to death.

"You know none of it was his fault, right?" A silvery feminine voice echoed from behind her. "He was just broken, pained. If it is any consolation, he sincerely loved your mother." She added and stood beside Nia Afriyie. It was Kukua's spirit form. For whatever reason, they were there in Olamide's house and they could see what was going on but Olamide couldn't see them or feel their presence.

"Kukua, I know. I always did. And even now that I know why my mother died, I can't help but think he was justified in everything he did."

"Yes, you are right," another voice, belonging to a much older person, appeared. It was Nia's spirit form. She continued when she secured her place beside the two young women, "After all, he had no hand in what was happening...he was just a pawn in an almost perfect plan..." she paused when Kukua and Nia Afriyie turned their heads to her direction.

"Don't get me wrong. I loved him. I really did but my baby also needed to come out of someone's loins. The fate of the world depended on it. Besides, everything was supposed to go as planned — get married to a human, conceive the second chosen, give birth, die, watch till the girl is of age, then together with her Guardian get her awoken, find the other two chosen and... " she stopped when she realized Nia Afriyie and Kukua were looking at her to end her list already. They knew all those anyway.

"So, what do we do now? We can't leave him in his kind of pain. He doesn't deserve it."

"I will think of something. But for now, Kukua, you and Nia Afriyie must get to Tekela and warn Anaya. They know about her now."

"How do we do that when she is clearly not awoken? How would she handle two spirits talking to her? She's obviously still human." Kukua queried.

"I am clueless of how that can be achieved, my daughter, but we must make sure she is safe."

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Chapter edited by JelsaNoir

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