Two nights before David left for school, he left the water factory clandestinely and strangely. He'd tiptoed to the quarters behind the factory and tapped Celine's shoulders to wake her up. David had been avoiding Celine for some time because he'd felt guilty towards her.

But now that he wouldn't be seeing her for a while, David knew he would regret it if he didn't say goodbye to her. Celine smiled wryly when he told her about his wishes to quit his menial job at the factory.

"I hope you do well at school, David," Celine sighed. "My little sister always loved things that were affiliated to education even at her tender age. I'm sure she would love for me to go back to school, but I feel too guilty towards her."

"I don't wish to go to school either. It's just—"

"I know, David. I saw your mom the other day," Celine took his palm and rubbed it gently, assuring him that there was no need to feel guilty for leaving.

"I'm sorry, Celine. For everything."

"I hope you heal," Celine replied in a calm tone. With slight disinclination, she detached her palm from his and covered herself up with the blanket as she went back to sleep.

Celine was done talking to him. That was her goodbye. As David stood there, reticent to leave or tear his gaze away from her sleeping form, he wished he could give her a hug, or rather, he wished she would be accepting of it.

Nevertheless, as David packed a few of his tattered clothes into a small ghana-must-go, he felt immensely grateful for her unwavering kindness. Before he stepped out of the gate of the water factory, he took one last look at the large building, which only now looked like a solid four-dimensional shadow beneath the dim glow of the moonlight. David reminisced on the short while he'd spent working there.

Mr. Akinwale, that merciless cow, hadn't even paid him his wages for the labor he'd done so far. All he did was bark orders, hurl insults, humiliate and fire his laborers, and chew minced spicy suya with a bottle of stout every other evening.

The other workers at the factory barely cared about David. They only knew he existed when they needed him to transport pure water bags into lorries and trunks of constantly impatient retail customers. Not that it mattered anyway. David was deserving of the hostility he got. It was this kind of harsh treatment he'd yearned for — something he didn't get at home.

Still, David was happy he'd found a friend in this hellhole of a place – even though he'd taken advantage of her selflessness. It was because of her that he could stop in his tracks and take one last look at the overview of the water factory in the chilly night, knowing that he'd found memories to linger onto.

***

Mrs. Florence's house was beautiful and warm. The walls of her living room were a lush combination of brown and cream colors — unlike the walls in David's family house that hadn't been repainted for so many years. Hence the walls hosted different stains, scratches from pencils and fingernails, chalk scribblings, and had nearly peeled beyond renovation.

The air in Mrs. Florence's home was fresh and sweet-smelling like a priceless incense — unlike the air in his house, which reeked of blood — blood that David had spilled – of his sister and himself.

Hence, David loved Mrs. Florence's abode so much because it radiated of new beginnings for him.

It was the random things about her surroundings that he adored: David instantly cherished the garden outside her house. He marveled at the sight of the crowing roosters which gathered beneath the outstretched leaves and branches of the pepper tree. He loved the sparkling cyan color of her Peugeot 505 parked decently by the runway that led to her bungalow.

David enjoyed and appreciated the plate of dodo that Mrs. Florence served him. He loved the way she'd sliced the plantain in dainty circle shapes, unlike the ungainly oval-shaped plantains he usually ate at home.

He even loved the relaxed elegance about Mrs. Florence. Her yellow adire kaftan, the pearl earrings she wore, and her smooth velvety skin. She had the behavior of someone who didn't have to show the world that they had money.

More importantly, he liked everything about his mother's friend's place because the poshness of her environment brought forth promising promises. David could foretell that the new school he would be attending would be much better than the former school. Even if his mother couldn't afford the price that came with enrolling him at a reputable institution, Mrs. Florence would see to the possibility of it by all means.

David knew he wasn't supposed to covet the better things of life — not after the grave sin he'd committed. Still, it had been David's biggest dream to be a wealthy man. If he had all the money he could ever wish for, then he would  use his resources and invest them in effective ways to bring Sindara back to life.

Yes, he still believed he could resurrect her — which was why he had refused to go for her funeral service after all.

Hence, he loved the fact that, being in Mrs. Florence's house made him feel like he was on his path to affluence, no matter how slow.

"David," Mrs. Florence called as she sunk onto one of the armchairs in the living room after ensuring that David was properly settled in her home and had his things arranged in his new room. "Don't feel too sad, okay? Don't make mummy worry too much about you. It will be dangerous for her," Mrs. Florence eyed her best friend. "You'll do just fine in your new school, my boy. Always keep hope alive and talk to God as much as you can. He'll ease your pain."

Folakemi hadn't told Florence in full detail why David had to stay at her place. In fact, Florence only knew that Sindara was dead, but she wasn't aware of the scenario that led to her demise. Heck, she didn't even know why she'd abruptly ran out of the market on that day.

Florence had the right to know the entire story since she would now be accommodating David for a couple of months. Folake knew this; she knew her friend deserved a valid reason for this huge assignment she was entrusting in her hands.

Yet, all Folake had told her was that Kelvin hated David so much and didn't want to see him around. That was all Folake had to say for Florence to sympathize with her. That was more than enough reason for Florence to accept partial responsibility for David's safety.

Folake, for a slightly wild moment, wondered if Florence was lonely and had needed extra company for so long. Her son was based overseas after all and hadn't come home in years, and her daughter was a boarding student.

Nevertheless, Folake was thankful for the existence of Florence in her life.

David nodded grimly in response to Mrs. Florence's advice as he chewed on the last remnants of the dodo on the ceramic plate, the oil from the meal slightly glossing over his chin.

For the first time since Sindara died, David felt a tinge of excitement. He was somewhat enthusiastic for what the days ahead in his new school would be like.

***

The Elixir College was indeed far better than David's former school. Still, it wasn't the best of schools. Although the buildings in the institution's premises were large and elegantly built with enormous porticos gracing the exterior of the buildings, David despised the colors in which the school had been painted: bright green and orange.

Yuck. Who paints a school in green and orange colors? David shook his head.

The hue of the buildings demeaned the classiness that the school was supposed to have. The students of the school? Well, they looked okay. So-so. They didn't seem like arrogant people.

As David walked down the hallway trying to find his way to his new class, none of the students sneered at him or made a mockery of him for being a newbie or for not knowing his way around school even though it was his first day.

Instead, the students minded their businesses, walked with a kind of posture that showed that they were tired of life and living. Some of the boys David saw had slacked their ties below the first buttons of their shirt, and David had sighted a girl blowing and chewing bubblegum loudly.

Looks like the perfect environment for me. David observed as he clutched the handle of his new school bag.

This school seemed like a place where people didn't care about you; like a space where rumors and controversial topics didn't excite people; it even felt like somewhere you could slip to the ground, stumble on a stone or even choke on your saliva and people wouldn't stop for a second to look at you — perhaps they would but would resume to burying their heads in the pages of their notebooks, trying to get their homework done.

Or maybe, they would yawn and turn away, too uninterested in having sympathy for someone who'd just had a slight accident.

He tried to compare the atmosphere of this school to that of his former school. They were opposites, and David already knew. His classmates from Togedejoye High School always poked their broad noses into other people's business. When he reminisced on how nosy they were, the image of Saliu digging for a booger in his nostrils as he repeatedly bugged for juicy gist details popped into his mind. David was disgusted.

If he were still going to that school, they would definitely have known about Sindara's death by now.

David had to give credit to God for always putting him in places that oozed hostility. Indeed, if you asked for anything whatsoever — including punishments for being a murderer, it shall be given onto you. Good measure pressed down, shaken together, and running over.

When the hour for classes struck, It didn't take David time to figure out why all the students of Elixir college looked so stressed out and unbothered about every other thing. The academic workload was more than enough to drive you crazy. It wasn't even up to the sixth hour of class sessions, and David already had four homeworks he was going to do after classes were over.

And these assignments that the teachers dished out weren't the kinds where you could copy the answers from your peers or classmates. You had to think very hard to answer them because they had technical answers. The deadliest thing was that these assignments had the smallest time frames for deadlines. You could be given an assignment that required you to write a two-thousand words essay on a complex topic and would be expected to submit it in the next two days.

David didn't have to worry about being idle since he left Obalende Avenue, where Mr. Akinwale drilled him with work. The work in this school was a great substitute and a time filler.

David wouldn't have much time to think about his pathetic life or hallucinate about his deceased sister. Perhaps, this had been his mother's plan: to drill him with a kind of work that wouldn't hurt him physically but would at the same time help shift his focus onto something more worthwhile. How awesome!

When the hour for lunch struck, it was of no mystery or surprise to David when he saw every student of the school rush down to the lunch hall in thunderous racing footsteps. They were about to devour and crunch on every piece of meal from the Turin. David knew they would eat like beasts, yet he walked into the hall a few minutes later.

The food on the menu was already finished.

Shaking his head, David made up his mind to be smarter next time and rush to the hall while the other students were going for lunch. He couldn't blame or judge them for their humongous appetite. They had to fuel their overworked and saturated brains with a good quantity of nutrients.

David dug his hand in the pocket of his trousers and brought out the money Mrs. Florence had given him for his allowance. Quickly, he made a mental budget and deciphered how he would spend the money on the cheapest food he could get and save the remaining bucks.

David still didn't know his way around the school very much and was unsure whether some of the institution's students bought meals from food vendors or not. And if yes, which food-seller was the best to patronize.

He hadn't gotten to the exit gate before he saw a girl sitting dejectedly on the pavement outside the hall. David muttered a word of thanks beneath his breath upon finding a student. He was going to ask the girl for directions.

"Hello?" David greeted the petite girl nervously after he approached her.

The girl wouldn't look up at him. Instead, she swung her feet to and fro through the sand like a pendulum. David heard the girl's stomach make a growling sound.

"Hello? Please could you show me where I can buy food?" David tried again.

Now, the girl looked up but not at him. Instead, she turned to the left side and pointed at a kiosk that stood afar off, wordlessly giving him directions. That was when David caught a good glimpse of her side view.

And he lost control.

The girl was petite, thin-boned, had curly black hair, which she packed into two side buns, and her skin was a rich chocolate tone – exactly like Sindara. This was the exact way Sindara had looked on the day she died — even a few hours after her death. That curly black hair, fragile frailty that made you want to wrap her up with a blanket for fear that she may catch a cold.

Even the paleness and smallness about this girl who sat quietly on the pavement. It was the behavior that Sindara exhibited on that day that she'd craved jollof rice. Sindara wasn't such a tiny girl but the sheer helplessness about her on that day made her shrink – just like this girl that was before him.

This little girl he was seeing now had to be Sindara.

David used the back of his palm to wipe his eyelids, hoping that by cleaning them, the vision before him would be erased. This had to be one of his other hallucinations — his recurring dreams where he saw Sindara twirling graciously in a pink ballerina gown.

Perhaps, his subconscious was bored from having the same false visions and had decided to spice things up a little and now make his sister appear to him in the form of a sad petite girl dressed in a school uniform.

That had to be it. There was no way someone would look this much like Sindara and not be Sindara herself. Or was it the sadness about the little girl that deceived David and toyed with his senses? Was his mind using the scenes around that fateful day to manipulate things into what they were not?

As though the girl had read his mind, she looked at him now so David could have a full view of her face.

"Aren't you going to buy your food? Why are you still standing here?" she asked, irked.

But her words were blurred babbles in David's ears as he stared, mouth widely opened at the little girl. Her azure brown eyes, her plump lips, and slightly chubby cheeks. The exact face of Sindara.

David turned his back against the girl and took a moment to absorb what was going on. A tear slipped down his eyes. Despite the grave confusion that tugged at his mind for clear answers, he considered that this was perhaps happening for real.

Maybe God had answered his prayers. For so long, David had been searching for ways in which he could bring his sister back to life. He'd tried through his lucid dreams and hallucinations. He'd even already made up his mind to be rich enough to invest his money in ways in which he could bring his sister back to life.

Now that he could see his deceased sister without even making an effort to see her, David tried not to believe the possibility that his mind was already used to creating such false images.

Instead, he chose to stick with the fact that God had brought his sister back to life. Yes, he had. God was giving him a second chance, and this time, he would make the very best use of it.

Because David was so scared that he would doubt the miracle that God had just performed, he decided not to ask the petite girl for her name. He feared that she would give him a name that wasn't Sindara, and then his bubbles would be busted. He wanted to hold on to the belief that this was his sister. Not her look-alike or a strange carbon copy.

So, as he went on to believe that this was his sister in her resurrected form, he talked to the nameless girl in a soft, brotherly tone. The petite girl had become his pseudo-Sindara. 

"I heard your stomach churning a moment ago," David said, bringing out a few notes from his pocket. "Here. Use this to buy whatever you want for lunch."

More tears fell down David's eyes as he stretched out his arm with the notes. He was finally providing for his sister's needs. He was giving her money for the first time since their years as siblings. She could finally get whatever she wanted, and he'd made that opportunity available for her. The feeling of gratitude that surged through David's heart was ethereal.

The nameless petite girl, however, was smitten by his gesture but not in a positive way. She looked at this strange nappy-haired, light-skinned guy as though he were a feckless idiot.

"Why are you giving me this much money when you don't even know me? And why are you crying as if you're going to die the next minute? Abeg, use your money to buy food for yourself ooo before you die of hunger."

David smiled softly. Sindara! Sharp-mouthed and brutally honest as always. As David watched his pseudo-Sindara complain with wide bulging eyes, David was more assured that it was her.

Still, he tried not to say anything that would freak her out. She believed he didn't know her, but he did. Perhaps God had brought her back to him but had taken away her memory so she wouldn't remember what he'd done to her in her past life – the fact that he'd fed her poisoned food to eat.

God was so merciful and kind to have thought that far. This was indeed David's second chance to set things right and make new memories with his beloved sister. He'd better not mess it up.

"Please," David squeezed the money notes into her tiny palm. "Take it. Please don't worry about me."

"Really?" the girl's eyes sparkled like gold coins.  "I can use the money to buy whatever food I want? You're giving this money to me freely without wanting anything in return?"

Well, I want your forgiveness.

"Yes, I'm giving it to you freely. Go ahead and enjoy," David smiled as more tears gathered around his eyes.

"Very well then!" pseudo-Sindara said with a menacing grin as she joyfully stormed away from his presence with an energy that surprised David.

David felt an overwhelming sense of fulfillment to have starved just so his sister could eat. This wasn't what he had expected on his first day of school, but he was thankful for the occurrence. Perhaps he was crazy, but he was willing to let every iota of his sanity get destroyed if that was what it required to redeem himself of his sins.

***
Glossary:

Suya: grilled meat.

Ghana-must-go: the Ghana-must-go bag is a printed luggage bag with a funny history. Many years ago, when there was war and crisis in Ghana, Ghanaians came to Nigeria to seek refuge (with those luggage bags, I guess), But Nigeria, a more developed country back then, told Ghanaians to go back to their country. Hence, I think that's how they got to name the luggage bag 'Ghana-must-go,' so I'm guessing Nigerians must have said something like, "these Ghanaians should carry their Ghana-must-go bags and be going' :)

I'm not 100% sure that this information is accurate. It's more like a shallow idea of the history behind the bag's name. Hence I will go back to do my research.

Also, I didn't edit this chapter before publishing it, which is the first time, and I feel awful, but my phone has been acting up. I don't know when next I'll publish this chapter if I don't publish it now. Hence, I will come back to edit this chapter later. You are free to point out any errors you see in this update. I'll take to your correction.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Yours Truly,

The Dream Elixir.