Zipporah was beginning to doze off after spending hours gluing her eyes to the television's screen. It was unlike her to watch TV. She was always bust knitting at the dining table. This time around though, she needed inspiration.

Obviously, David has done everything in his power to ensure that there were no dangerous items in the house or objects that had the potential of being lethal. He did the cooking most of the time and kept the knives out of reach once he was finished. If the girls needed to cook a meal for each other, then it had to be a meal that didn't require a knife.

So, Zipporah had to be creative and think far beyond the tight box that was in front of her. There had to be something — a basic item in the house that could be wielded and used for the purpose she wanted it to serve. It could be the merging of that object with something else that would procure a fatality of some sort. The television program would show something for sure, harmless but still a top nonetheless.

Her wool had resorted to no good. She'd tied it with the handle from which the ceiling fan in her room clung but it had not been tight enough to apply any major pressure. The wool kept slacking off. It was a very pointless and futile adventure.

So she used the back of her hand to scratch her eyelid and continued to stare at the TV screen along with Grace and Kemi who were sitting on both sides of her on the sofa.

It was a kiddies program. A Barney and Friends kind of show even though she could not see the purple dinosaur that was peculiar to the popular show. But she'd heard a clown singing to the children on the TV a song that sounded familiar to the ‘I love you, you love me melody. So Zipporah regarded the show as ‘Barney and friends.’ It was similar to the lazy behavior of Nigerians who called every kind of noodles ‘indomie’ and every kind of seasoning ‘Maggi’.

In the show, one of the children was playing with a pair of stockings. She kept stretching the fabric and giggled maniacally when the material shrunk back to its normal size after experimenting with its elasticity. It was as if she was witnessing some sort of magical occurrence. Then the kid turned to the girl next to her and asked if she would like to wear a necklace made of stockings.

The other girl chuckled and declined, explaining that she got tickled very easily. But the girl who was holding the stockings stretched the socks even more and started to chase the girl round and round the lawn. The two of them were giggling and screaming all through the run and Zipporah found it to be annoyingly and unnecessarily loud.

Until the ticklish girl tripped and fell. Then the girl with the stockings stooped low and tied the socks around her neck. The girl whose back was on the ground laughed through the entire process, fighting sheepishly to get the other one to leave her alone. Still, it was obvious that she was enjoying the play.

Zipporah felt the show was a very stupid one and although, it was a harmless play, children who watched the program would want to try such with one another and it could result in something utterly terrible. However, when she looked by her side, she saw Grace and Kemi giggling along as if they were watching the coolest thing in the world.

She didn't understand why she was irritated. Perhaps, she'd expected to see horrified expressions on their faces. It just made zero sense to her that children would try to tie stockings around each other's necks even though it wasn't done with any kind of force.

Imagine if pressure was applied...

As soon as Zipporah heard those words in her mind, the answer already came to her before she could even think of shushing the thought. And when the idea came, she began to appreciate the TV program she'd just watched. It had just given her the best of inspirations which was the precise thing she'd been looking for.

David always bought her and the girls lots of clothes. He'd always get them any clothing material they requested or felt they liked. This was why she never ran out of wool. Zipporah remembered a time when she saw a pair of polka dot stockings a few years ago (when she didn't know how bad David was) and happily asked him to get one for her.

So she was sure that she had stockings somewhere in her luggage bag. Although there was no way she could ask anyone to do her the favor of wrapping the socks around her neck and applying the needed pressure, all hope was not lost. She could tie it to the ceiling fan holder in her room and help herself out.

As every missing piece continued to fall into place, Zipporah was finally able to feel settled with herself. She was not doing this only because there was no way she could continue living in the misery of being David's pseudo-younger sister in a different place that was in the middle of nowhere with more restrictions. Rather, it was because she believed that this would perhaps be the greatest sacrifice she would ever make.

Even though her plan was quite ironic, maybe it would help David come to his senses. That was the multi-faceted nature of ironies. Certain occurrences push one to do the opposite of what's required. Perhaps, by inflicting more guilt on David for what she was going to do, he would realize how unworthy and evil he was and let go of the girls so they could be taken care of by sane people. Sometimes, to catch a thief, one would have to disguise himself as one.

If nothing — none of her rebellious acts and spiteful words were strong enough to make David feel more guilty about kidnapping young girls as he felt about his sister's death, then maybe, just maybe, this one would.

There was no use watching TV anymore since she'd already gotten the idea she hoped for from it. So she left Grace and Kemi in the living room. The next thing that was on her mind was to find the stockings and begin setting everything up in her room but she thought of Gertrude. It was daytime and Gertrude never observed siesta. Zipporah didn't want her to walk in on her preparing her stage and begin to question her on things she didn't want to answer.

She decided to suspend the activity for the nighttime. It was also ironic how she secretly wanted to do something that would inevitably be found out in the end. Still, she didn't want anyone — particularly someone like Gertrude who'd become her friend overtime — to persuade her to stop. She'd already made her resolve.

Thus, Zipporah made her way back to the dining table and picked a ball of white wool from the shelf to resume her knitting exercise. She'd been weaving the same muffler since the day after she'd woken up and found herself in the new environment. It had been the hardest thing she'd had to sew. Perhaps, it was because she was in the worst state of mind due to the rude shock of waking up in a different place.  Or maybe it was because she was weaving the scarf for someone and there was the pressure to impress and do it to the person's liking.

Either way, she had to be finished with it before dusk would arrive. She pulled out the needle from the wrap of wool and fastened a strand against its eye and began to weave a new layer. As she knitted and repeated the mundane process of dipping the needle into the material and pulling it out, she bore no thoughts. There was that absence of mind which was more precious than the shiniest gem.

The only thing that existed in her mind at that moment was the non-existent but somewhat mysterious melody that the dancing needle created on its own. Until a vibrant one came in.

“I thought you were going to give birth in the bathroom,” Zipporah commented as soon as she perceived the fresh scent of papaya soap. Only Gertrude smelled like that after a bath. She didn't need to take her eyes away from her wool.

“Before, you used to act like I didn't exist but now you know when I'm around before looking at me,” Gertrude said with a cheeky grin as she sat on the chair across from Zipporah. She was a towel around her chest and another was wrapped around her head.

“What are you talking about?” Zipporah looked up for a brief moment but still kept her needle moving on the yarn.

“Remember the first day we met?” Gertrude began to play with the table mat as she reminisced on the past. “I was so lost and confused. I wanted to understand what was going on. Grace and Kemi were watching TV and laughing so I didn't feel like talking to them.

Then I saw you at the dining table, knitting a purse. I didn't feel like talking to you too but since you were older than the other two, I just believed you would be able to explain. I tried to talk to you but you replied as if talking to me was a chore. You didn't like me.”

“Oh,” Zipporah scoffed, eyes still on the wool. “Oh well...” she twitched her lips to one side of her face. “Now, you understand why. There's no reason to be happy in this stupid environment. Also, I think I was just being hateful sha. You were too...”

“Too what?” 

“I don't even know,” Zipporah shrugged and laughed. “You were annoying sha or maybe I just saw you as irritating. Your hair was too long and you were too fine. I didn't like the freshness that glistened in your skin tone even though you looked worried and scared that day.

Perhaps it was because I knew everything was going to fade away within a week and I hated it for you. But I guess I didn't know how to channel the disdain so I just ended up disliking you at that moment. At least sha, you've also learned not to sit next to me when I'm knitting but across from me. So don't think you're one pure girl. You actually annoy me.”

“Whatever,” Gertrude smacked her lips and tried to flip her hair, forgetting that a towel was covering every strand up. Thus, she accidentally yanked off the towel in the process.

Zipporah chuckled.

“Have you eaten? You haven't been looking so great since we woke up and found ourselves here.”

“I've eaten but I don't mind if you cook for me still. I've not been hungry honestly. I can only eat well when I'm happy,” Gertrude sighed, pulling at the threads that stuck out of the table mat's hem. “You look worse though. All you've been doing is knitting this same thing for some days now, ha! Drop it and let's go and cook joor!”

“No. It's a good thing you've eaten. So I'm not leaving here until I finish weaving this thing,” Zipporah insisted and dramatically dipped the edge of the needle further into the thread and weaved like a lunatic for two minutes to prove her point.

“Is it for someone?” Gertrude mockingly shook her head as she watched Zipporah display her two minutes' madness.

“You will know very soon,” Zipporah laughed. She'd now progressed to the third layer of the muffler's white section.

“Then that means it's for me,” Gertrude said with certainty. There was even a surprised chuckle and a widening of her eyes that followed to show her delight in her profound theory.

“W-whatever gave you that idea?” There was a slight blush on Zipporah's cheeks. Her fair complexion easily made it visible as day.

“Because that's what people say when they want to surprise you with something. ‘You will know very soon’ as if the receiver does not have the ability to think and guess. There's no other reason why I should know if it doesn't have to do with me. Also, you stammered and you are blushing right now!” Gertrude pointed at her cheeks to place further emphasis.

Zipporah was tongue-tied for a moment.

“So? What if it's a scarf for myself or my boyfriend?”

“Abeg,” Gertrude chortled. “How can you manage to have a boyfriend in this place and situation?”

Zipporah giggled at the dark joke because it was meaningless to take offense.

“Tell me about your parents, Gertrude,” Zipporah changed the thread of the wool hinged around the eye of the needle to a purple thread and proceeded to knit a fresh layer with the new color.

“Why?” Gertrude's voice suddenly became caustic. “Why are we on this topic?”

Zipporah took a deep breath. “I just wish to know how much your parents loved you. All we've mostly talked about is how to get out of this place. That was what brought us together and created a bond between us. I kind of used you, you know? To see if I could try to save myself for the umpteenth time but we were not able to escape. So, I just wish you know the kind of people your parents are.”

“So...should I be grateful that we were not able to escape because you now get to care about me and my family?” Gertrude raised a skeptical brow.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Zipporah snickered with a slight form of disbelief. “Gertrude, I will pay you back very soon, I promise.”

It just wouldn't be the kind of payback you'd like. Still, a repayment nonetheless.

“You don't have shame,” Gertrude frowned. “You didn't even bother to lie that you were not using me for the fact that I have parents that care about me to escape.”

“No darling, I didn't bother to lie. You don't deserve to be deceived. Besides, we all use people for something. That doesn't necessarily make us evil people.”

“Hm. Word, word,” Gertrude nodded sarcastically.

“Did you learn that nonsense from school?” Zipporah spared a glance at her. “Don't let me slap you this girl,” she smacked her teeth. Inwardly though, there was an amused grinning going on. She found it funny that Gertrude had responded to her with sarcasm.

Gertrude giggled and stuck out her tongue. Afterward, she slipped back into a sober mood and started to answer the question.

“I am like a miracle child to my parents. My mom was not able to have a child for years and the burden was really heavy on her and my dad. Before she gave birth to me, she lost ten babies. Miscarriages and stillborns. My dad's mom started to advise my dad to marry another wife. My mummy told me about it and I hated my grandma ever since then. Very wicked woman.

My mummy prayed sha and then I came into her life. That was how she always said it whenever she told me the story — as if I was the answer to her prayers and it was not just because I came as a living child which was what she was searching for. Instead, because God chose me as the child she should have. I was more than she could ask for in a child — brilliant, gentle, beautiful, and obedient. I didn't give her much headache.

So she treated me in a way that showed that she was grateful to God for being my mom. My dad wasn't very well-off when I came into his life but he was willing to do anything. He pushed wheelbarrows in the market space for small change, lifted and dropped goods, sold bread, and so on. My mom did any job she could find  - sweeping people's compounds, washing clothes, and so on. And they never transferred the stress from having a hard day on me. They didn't make me feel guilty either or begin to regret that I exist.

They were always very good and asked me about the things I wanted. I didn't know they were struggling at that time so I always asked for any kind of thing that I felt like having. I asked for shoes, a puppy, and princess gowns. One day, I even asked them if I could stay at home just because I did not feel like going to school. They actually allowed me to stay at home o.  They did their best to get the things I asked for.

They loved me so much and I knew it. They tried to help me get good opportunities too that's why they put me in Gibson Academy because they heard from people that it was easier to get scholarships as a student of the school. And it was true. It was supposed to be true for me but I didn't know that the sponsor of the scholarship contest would be someone that would take me away from my parents.

But yeah, my parents took good care of me. The only thing I asked for but didn't get was a sibling. My mom told me no when I asked and she didn't give me any reason. Maybe she thinks she would never have another child like me and would not be able to care for that child as much. Or maybe the doctor told her that she could not have another child after me since she already lost many babies.

Now that I'm away from her, I'm afraid that she will feel so lonely. There would be no second child to cheer her up. No brother or sister can try to think of a better way to find me than my parents. I feel so sad for them.”

“Your story just makes me hate David so much. He robbed your parents of their joy. You're the only child of your parents and this psychopath man took you away from them just like that because you remind him of his stupid sister. This is really the worst thing a person can do,” Zipporah was so angry that she couldn't even multitask. She stopped knitting and didn't take her eyes off Gertrude for a while.

“Doesn't look like there's anything we can do now. And I don't even want to start thinking of how we can try to leave this place,” Gertrude massaged her temples with her thumb. “It makes me tired. Can we talk about some good things?”

“Good things. Do those even exist here?”

“Yes, nau. You.” Gertrude smiled.

“What? Me ke?’ Zipporah looked up. She was almost finished with weaving the tenth layer of purple wool.

“Yes, you. Thank you for everything, Zipporah. Thank you for entertaining my stupid plans and for being patient with me. Thank you for not keeping your distance when I fed Roscoe and it barked and almost put you in trouble. You know, when people suffer together, they become closer.

I used to think that that was impossible and it didn't make sense. But now I know it's true. There was something nice about hoping for a savior with you. It was fun drawing the key on the paper and praying to it as if it were a god. I felt like I had a partner in crime or something. It was really nice.”

“I tolerated all of it because your presence gave me so much hope and it's very hard to have so much faith.”

“Thank you,” Gertrude sighed as she observed Zipporah hem the edge of the scarf with more purple wool. “Can we go to the kitchen now? It looks like you have finished knitting.”

“Okay. What do you want to eat?” Zipporah laughed as she folded the scarf into four sections and rose from the chair.

“Sweet potato. Mr. David hasn't cooked lunch yet so the knives are still in the kitchen,” Gertrude explained. Then she eyed the muffler on the table. “You are not going to give me the scarf because I already guessed that it's for me shebi?” She snuck her arm around Zipporah's waist.

“I told you that it's not for you!”

“Okay. But I will wake up tomorrow and find it under my pillow.”

Gertrude was correct. Later, Zipporah would safely torque the muffler beneath her pillowcase in the night and this was of course after she'd found her stockings.

***

The night had long lost its youth and Zipporah had completed every necessary activity. As Gertrude predicted, she stopped by her room and slipped the knitted scarf beneath her pillowcase neatly and meticulously. She was gentle as possible so Gertrude wouldn't turn and open her eyes upon finding a shadow blocking the void in her slumber.

However, leaving was a Herculean task because it was difficult for Zipporah to stop staring at Gertrude as she breathed in and out in her sleep. As she gazed at the little girl and clutched her palm in her hand, she closed her eyes and let the tears fall freely. She said a small prayer in her mind. It was a request for fulfillment, that what she was about to do would work in the way she wanted it to.

She knew she had to go because she could not afford to witness the next day. Still, the more she gazed, the more insufficient her looking felt. It felt impossible to have all of Gertrude glued and imprinted to her entire being.

Zipporah wished that death had a means of keeping memories alive with the dead. She didn't know how to precisely word what she felt but she wished there was an avenue where good recollections could be etched into the dark void of nothingness. So even though she was going to transcend into a place where she would be unaware of the state of her existence, the good times she had would be a constant thing of remembrance for her.

She wanted this so Gertrude wouldn't have to carry all the memories alone. She too could take the load with her forever on the other side of life. Zipporah also desired that there would be a way for Gertrude to know that she wasn't the only one bearing the bittersweet remembrances.

Eventually, Zipporah forced herself to get up and get out. She had to stick to her promise even though she was feeling gloomier than she'd expected.

It didn't take long for her to find the polka-dot-patterned stockings in her luggage box when she got to her room. She held the socks tightly in her hand as she moved to the door and locked it. Then she drew the curtains on the window to a close so that the bright lighting from the bulb could feel a bit dim.

She carried the stool by the table where her toiletries were neatly arranged and pulled it to the center of her room, right beneath the handle for the ceiling fan. She mounted the stool and made sure that her feet were well-rested and balanced on the leather before going on to the next thing.

She stretched the stockings as she'd seen on the TV program and tied it to the sickle-shaped metal construction that was made for the fan. Once she saw the firm knot at the end of the sock meaning that she'd wrapped it properly, she spread the sock again and bent her head to fit into its little open space. Then she allowed it to seize the free flow of air in her throat as it circled her neck.

Zipporah gasped when she made first contact with the stockings because of how tight it was around her neck. Right there was a chance to remove the socks and free herself from the discomfort because she could already see that it was going to be a sojourn of agony. Still, she left it and used the tip of her toe to kick the stool she was standing on for support.

The stool landed on the floor with a loud clang, leaving her dangling in the air as her feet involuntarily attempted to reach for any kind of support. The choking feel of the stockings on her throat intensified and it was exasperating that Zipporah had to restrict herself from fighting for air.

It was often said that people see a panorama of their life when they are near their death and perhaps, it brings some sense of fulfillment for them if they have lived a good life. However, for Zipporah, it was violent pain. It was as if the tights were shrinking around her neck, sucking all of her blood. It was even more excruciating for her to keep up the fight and restrain herself from yanking off the socks and releasing herself from its grip.

It was like purposely remaining underwater for minutes — battling against every potential impulse in your body and even the pounding of the heart which is your body's lingo and way of screaming at you to stop what you are doing and get oxygen immediately. It was a very dangerous fight.

It was even worse that all the blood seemed to flow into her head since that was the part of her body that was under the most pressure. This made her cheeks and ears redden. She had chosen to do this, to subject herself to this intensity of suffering and she was beginning to regret it. Still, she knew it was going to be over soon. And it would be over in a way that she would forget ever feeling this kind of pain.

That was better, much more preferable than the anguish of being alive to spend one more moment in this place; to live in another dusk seeing David's face or getting another earful from him on how much of a disobedient little sister she was when in fact, she didn't consider herself a sister to anyone. Another day of being restricted, manipulated, and guilt-tripped.

So Zipporah remained there, dangling in mid-air and persevering the punishment of the stockings, but crying and coughing in the process because of how hot her face felt. She decided to try and think of good things as she waited to die. Gertrude easily came to mind. She hoped she would love the scarf and wished she would be there to see her reaction. Then she smirked at herself for being so ridiculous since there was no way she could laugh.

She also thought of Grace and Kemi, the other two girls who were always watching television and looked as if they were not bothered or weren't a part of the people who'd been stripped of their liberty to become David's captives. Although she didn't have much of a relationship with them, she still hoped that her death would also save them. She prayed that her sacrifice would liberate them whether or not they were willing for it.

Zipporah was now beginning to feel dizzy, nauseous, and very short of breath. So she started to squirm erratically for minutes. In the process, she felt a sudden, hot wetness between her thighs. She'd peed on herself. Her body was twitching, it was still trying its best to live but after it had done its part and realized that it wouldn't be getting any more flow of oxygen or balance, it gave up and became limp.