chapter dedication to seraphic_sophie, daniellaaniii & Marayamwrites. They're the best. 🩶

052| It's Always About Him

~ K O M I S O L A~

"I lied."

I stared at my brother, like he'd grown two heads or even more but truly, I was only trying my best to comprehend the gibberish he'd just uttered.

"Lied about what?" I asked, keeping my voice as blank as it'd ever sounded whenever I spoke to Davies.

"I'm not actually... terminally ill, Komisola. I lied." He awkwardly shifted on his feet, staring everywhere but at my face.

Meanwhile, I couldn't have been rendered more confused. Um, he lied about being terminally ill? Because...? Was he going to be paid for it?

"Is this a show, Davies? Be for real now." I sighed, already feeling exhausted. All I wanted was to be left alone to myself, staring at the ceiling or reading my novels. Davies came back to our lives like nothing had happened and while I was trying to adjust to that harsh reality, he'd dropped a bombshell so casually, and now here he was... taking his words back, so casually again.

"I had my reasons."

"What reasons?!" I didn't know why, but that statement seemed to trigger what was left of my sanity. Davies was so fucking tiring, frustrating and for what exactly? "Were you paid for it, uh? What was the fucking reason, Davies? Are you joking-"

"There's nothing to joke about, Komi."

Another trigger. I might just combust.

I inhaled deeply as I spelled out my warning to him, each word one by one, very clear and audible for him to hear, "it's Komisola to you, and everyone. We're done with that nickname, Davies."

He just stared. The idiot really just stared at me like I'd not just warned him. And my jaw almost dropped when he just rolled his eyes at me. He really did have a mental disorder.

"What the hell..." my voice which was quite clear seconds ago had really come down to a low whisper. I was more than speechless. And also concerned when the expression on his face seemed to change a little.

He'd suddenly looked downbeat. Like he didn't just snarkily roll his eyes minutes ago. "Davies..." I called out, trying to shake off this feeling that clawed at my chest. It scared me.

That feeling of being kept in the dark. Almost like the truth was glaring at me but I had somehow been plunged into ignorance. Something was going on, anything was going on, but I had no idea what the thing could be.

"Davies, did you lie about your illness?" I asked, very cautious this time around.

Davies nodded, much to my surprise. He looked okay again. He seemed so. But there was just something off about his countenance.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Komisola. I... it was for a reason."

"What reason?" I didn't even have it in me to sound angry. Davies was just naturally this taxing and it felt like every action of his sucked out the emotions from me, sucked out all the energy.

"Maybe a sob story would make you forgive me?"

Help?

"What was..." I trailed off, taking in a deep breath to maintain my composure. "What was the reason for the sob story? It's an honest question, I'm genuinely curious, Davies."

My brother didn't say anything. "So you just felt like creating a sob story, almost made me reconsider forgiving you, even after making me develop a phobia– oh, did I tell you that?" I looked up. I was firing words at him heavy with sarcasm right now. "You made me develop a phobia for men, Davies! I have a male friend and it's so fucking hard to talk to him because of the stigma! And it's all because of you!"

My eyes. Why are they getting blurry?

"But because you were selfish once again, you were so desperate for forgiveness, just to make yourself feel better, you faked an illness."

Calms. Take a deep breath again. One. Two... fuck it.

"I'll reveal something." I laughed slightly, because everything was so amusing. "Did I ever wish you were died? Probably yes. Will I wish you dead? Definitely not. What the fuck am I even saying? I don't know too! I'm just confused as you are. But I know one thing, you are actually a very shitty person and I wish you stayed away from me and Mother. I don't care if you're her favorite child, just rot in hell, Davies Adedire."

And with one final statement to him... "I pray you get every thing you deserve. Sounds like a prayer until it's not."

~

"Come and sit." I stared at Mother as she patted the space next to her on the bed. Then hesitantly, I made my way to her and sat where she had patted.

"Do you need anything?" I asked. Hopefully I hadn't sounded rude because I was genuinely confused.

"No." Mother smiled. "I just needed to talk to you about something."

Okay...?

"Remember when this academic session in your school started, your father and I were still together... and I'd told you to lay low."

That.

She remembered that.

That was another grey day in my life, a usual day in my very plain colored life.

"I made a mistake." Mother heaved a sigh. "All my life raising you and Davies, I've seen him with friends, even if they are bad ones, but I haven't seen you with any. Only that best friend of yours who ended up leaving to God knows where."

I let out a sadistic chuckle. She was finally noticing something about me now that she'd divorced Father. "I know I haven't been a good mother to you and Davies. Staying with your father was hell for me, and I was busy trying to break free of that bondage... or rather, cope. If I'd trained Davies right, I don't think he would have done what he did. And if I was also a good mother, I wouldn't have made you live on with such pain, Komisola."

Talking about Davies to me was such a sour topic. He made my anxiety level rise all of a sudden, and tears from nowhere would well up in my eyes merely thinking about him and what he'd done to me. I went through this everyday. I thought about him everyday. He was supposed to be my brother. She was supposed to be my mother. And I was supposed to be myself.

"I don't know if it's too late, Komisola. I won't ask you to forgive your brother or me, because you'd have to do that yourself, sincerely, wholeheartedly."

I also didn't know if it was too late.

Maybe because I was finally learning to move on. Someone had come into my life and tried his best to make me happy, and he wasn't my family.

"Do you know your brother has an illness, Komisola?"

Mother knew?

He wasn't lying?

"You know he has cancer?" the words literally poured out of my mouth before I could stop myself. Mother raised her brows at me.

"Cancer ke? I'm talking about something else, Komisola." Once again, I was confused. "Your brother has a personality disorder, Komisola."

For some reason, that sounded familiar to me. Almost like he'd mentioned it to me before. Was that what he meant when he told me everything about this family?

And for some other reason also, I didn't feel anything. Was I supposed to feel shocked when Mother said that? Probably. I was simply unfazed.

But it came slowly. The anger rising in my chest, to the point where I had to take a deep breath. Mother had called me down to speak, but it was about Davies.

It was always about him.

I got sexually harassed; Davies was the one who everyone focused on.

I grew up as a child; Davies was the one Father loved.

I lived with stigma; Davies was the important one because he needed my forgiveness to live a guilt-free live.

I developed a damned phobia, and panic attacks, but Davies' personality disorder was more concerning.

Mother would have never known I had panic attacks until that one time. She didn't even know the drugs I used.

"Must we talk about him?" the words left my mouth once again, coming out as an inaudible, frail whisper.

"What?" Mother asked.

"Must we about talk about Davies?" I sighed when a tear freely dropped from my eye. I'd been doing too much of crying and it was non-stop. I hated it. I hated this. "I have a phobia for men, do you know?"

When Mother didn't say anything, only looking stunned, I continued. "Davies caused that, Mother. For someone who was supposed to be my brother, he molested me and everyone expected me to be fine with it because I was a child. I moved on with that."

"Komisola..."

I wasn't done talking.

"I get bullied at school, because this same brother of mine who wanted my forgiveness had leaked a tape of him molesting me but everyone thought it was incest. I took this to court, Mother, but I didn't win. Instead, Davies got a free pass abroad. I moved on with that."

"Komisola..." she called again.

"Let's put all of that aside, now. Father physically abused me. He's never raised a hand against Davies but he won't think twice before slapping me. Now Davies has come back, and even lied to me that he had some shitty cancer to guilt trip me into forgiving him. What sickly human does that, Mother?"

I stood up from the bed, since there was no use for this conversation at all. "Even if Davies gets on his two knees, begs me for forgiveness, or dies of an illness, hope you know it won't take all of my pain, trauma, stigma away? And the earlier everyone sticks this into their head, the better it will be."

And without waiting for any response from Mother, I left the room.

I was so tired of everything. So tired of them and everything they did.

Would things ever get better?