Initially, David thought that the blood dripping from Sindara's nostrils resulted from him pinching her nostrils playfully a few minutes ago. So as he slightly panicked, he pulled out a tissue from the serviette pack on the dining table and wiped the blood away from the top of her lips carefully.

"Why are you bleeding?" he asked her as though she was supposed to know the answer.

She shrugged dully, but the melancholy in her eyes, the dashed state of her heart reflected in the helplessness of her gaze. She seemed subtly surprised to realize that her nose was dripping with a scary fluid.

"Do you feel pain? Do you think it's because I pinched your nose earlier?"

She shook her head. "I don't feel pain."

That response was supposed to calm David down a bit. Sometimes, people casually bled from their nostrils due to stress. At least he'd seen his mum bleed like that a few times, especially on the days when she was highly stressed, but nothing drastic happened afterward.

But why was Sindara, a kid, bleeding like that? Was it because of the severe hunger and fever she felt before he came back? What the hell was going on?

He wanted to worry on and on, but Sindara's behavior afterward made him feel relaxed. She even said she wanted to sleep because she felt full. So David covered Sindara carefully with the ankara wrapper, torquing in the extra fabric by the sides to keep her warm.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, placing the back of his left palm directly on Sindara's forehead to check the temperature of her skin. It is slightly warm.

Sindara nodded. "I'm just tired. I will tell you my aspirashions when I wake up. I have many aspirashions, " she spoke, her voice slightly husky and faded.

David nearly laughed at how she pronounced the word "aspirations" like a kid but more importantly, he was pleased that she was relatively okay and could say something like that. "Alright then. When you wake up," he patted her shoulders lightly.

David drew the curtains of the window to a close so the rays of light from the sun won't get in the way of Sindara's slumber. Then he placed a torn pillow that smelled like stale shampoo under her head so she could sleep comfortably. He wished she didn't have to sleep on such a tattered headrest, but that was the only pillow he could find.

When he'd put her in the correct position to have a good afternoon rest, He looked at his little black beauty, admiring everything about her chubby face before he sat on the other armchair.

After some minutes of staring at Sindara, David didn't know when his eyelids started to feel heavy. Still, the exhaustion from running around the neighborhood began to weigh on him, and he'd started to drift off to sleep, with his back ramrod straight in a sitting posture. He wanted to watch Sindara sleep, but his head had begun to bend to several positions unconsciously before he decided to take a quick nap.

While he slept, his vision no longer became dark and void of any image. He became conscious in the realm of inner imagery. Then he saw a hand, a wrinkled hand sprinkling speckles of white substance into a steaming pot on the fire.

It looked like salt, but the quantity seemed too small for a pot as wide as that. The hand started to mix the sprinkled white substance with the bubbling flavor of food in the pot.

The hand kept mixing. All David saw was a hand, with the owner, faceless. Then he saw himself with Sindara in a beautiful and spacious living room painted in peacock blue and eucalyptus colors. Sindara was wearing a baby pink ball gown while David was wearing a black tuxedo with a white bow tie.

David looked around the joists and ceiling of the city room, looking for balloons and confetti—any sign of a party going on but found nothing. The living room seemed pretty normal; no one else was sitting on the couches that occupied the living room. He was trying to know why he and his sister were here, in nice clothing.

Why was it just him and his sister here, sitting like puppets? Where was everyone? Mum, Dad, Yemisi, Alex? Where was the hand he'd just seen mixing strange stuff?

Then a strong aroma floated through his nostrils briefly, and soon he saw the hand again, holding a tray with two plates. The faceless person wore an apron and block heels. The person dropped the tray on a table.

David looked into the plate. It was two plates of jollof rice—for him and his sister. He lost all reasoning and ceased to wonder what the hell he was doing here alone with his sister. Sindara also looked mesmerized and hypnotized by the delicious odor of the meal, and soon, the two of them began to dig in, eating like dogs. 

The more they ate, the hungrier they became, and so they asked for more. David no longer saw the hand mix the white substance with the food in the pot. He never heard the person talk either but somehow, the woman kept bringing more and more plates of jollof rice for David and Sindara.

They ate, ate, and ate until David heard Sindara cough, and when he turned, he saw a worm leeching on her chin. He gasped, and the spoon fell from his hand. Sindara continued to cough, and more worms came out of her mouth, finding several parts of her body to feast on.

David yelled in horror and got up from the couch. He tried to run away but could only get to the exit before his stomach started to rumble with great pain. David let out a cough too, and worms began to fall out. He screamed and screamed, trying to call for the faceless person to save him, but he got no response.

His stomach grew bigger and protruded with each second. More worms sprung out of his body and sucked on his skin till he could no longer see anything, darkness, and void filling up the space because the worms had also feasted on his eyes.

Gbim!

David screwed his shut even tighter, shaking his head from left to right, looking for help, but the worms wouldn't stop sucking. Still, what was that sudden sound? David wanted to know, so he closed his eyes even harder, trying to look for where the sound had come from in his dream. He found nothing. The dream had disappeared. The worms, the hand, the white substance, the bubbling pot of flavor, and the lavish living room were all gone.

Darkness was back. David could feel the pain of shutting his eyes too tightly and the registered sudden sound still echoing in his ears. After struggling so hard, he opened his eyes since he could not find the source of that sound from his dream.

Panting heavily, he opened his eyes from his gory nightmare to meet something even worse. Sindara was on the floor with the wrapper still torqued around her sides just as David had done before laying her to sleep. She was static like a corpse. How could she be that stiff after falling from the armchair with such a harsh force?

David's heart started to pound faster than ever—even swifter than it moved in his dream. Quickly, he jolted from the armchair and rushed to his sister.

"Sindara, " he tapped her shoulder lightly. Her back was faced to him. David could easily have turned her in a way that would make him see her face, but he wanted to believe she would move in response to his call.

But she didn't move.

"Sindara, " he called again, his tone slightly different and panic-stricken.

This time, he shifted her body so she could face him. Her eyes were still closed, unmoving, and more blood was oozing from her nostrils, and her slightly parted lips dripping to the floor. Her dark skin looked paler and parched. David's head started to throb as his hand remained glued to her cheek, the blood smearing off on his palm.

He was wondering why he had that dream. He'd tried not to overthink anything—his mother's instruction, his mother's enemy, the plate of jollof rice. David had cast those thoughts aside and found solace in the fact that he was only trying to provide for his sister. So why did he have that dream?

He started to feel silly for even questioning the dream because the possibility that the food was harmful was already a subtle thought he had harbored deep down in his soul. Still, why was this happening? How could it be true? Why the hell was his dream happening before his eyes?

No God, No. This shouldn't happen. This woman is my mother's enemy, not my enemy. This can't...

David knelt. He placed an arm under Sindara's head gently and put her body to lay on his lap to form a closer contact. He tapped her shoulders a bit more vigorously than the last time as tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

More droplets of blood stains David's arms. "Sindara, please wake up. Please look at me, I beg you, " he started to tap her cheeks lightly, pulling her closer. Her lips were dry, lackluster, and the color of iodine.

He continued to tap and tap, but nothing happened. More blood continues to drip onto his fingers as he shook Sindara's body. Tears had started to fall from David's eyes now. Sindara's body temperature was becoming cold now, and he could barely feel a pulse from her body as he pulled her close. Still, he continued to tap her.

"Phleheassee, wake up, Sindara. Yohuhuh still have to tell me your haspirash-shions, " He cried out. His voice was very shaky now because the sound of his tears had momentarily destroyed his ability to speak correctly.

More tears spilled down his eyes as he shook her body until he heard a slight sound—a little whimper. The wetness of his tears had clouded his vision, so he couldn't notice that Sindara had opened her eyes. But when he heard the sound, he looked down and saw Sindara looking at him. Her eyes weren't open wide, but it didn't matter. She was alive. She'd tried to hang on.

"Sindara!" he called with hastiness. A drop of his tear fell on her cheek, mixing with the stain of blood.

"My tummy...my tum..." her voice came out as a choking sound, dry and painful. He could see the veins vividly showing on her neck. It took her a lot of effort to say those words. Her eyes were darting from one end to the other, as though she were seeing the flash of her life before giving up the ghost.

Beads of sweat started to form by David's temples. "Okay. I'll take you to h-hospital.
P-please, stay alive."

David had no idea how he was going to get his sister to the hospital. He didn't know anywhere nearby. David didn't know how to get the nurses to attend to a small boy like him. He had nothing in mind. Running around the neighborhood for help with the hospital didn't seem like the best plan at the moment because his sister was seconds away from the dying.

What the hell am I going to do?

Just then, the door of the living room opened without a preceding knock revealing Alexander and Demilade in their navy blue school uniforms. Alexander, the cheerful twelve-year-old lad, was holding the hand of his nine-year-old sister. They were back from school.

He was cheerful as always, and so he'd opened the door in that manner, eager to show his beloved older brother his new jerry curls and chewing gum stickers. But his heart skipped a beat and dropped when he moved closer after heard incessant sniffing, then saw his brother kneeling on the floor with their lifeless sister crouched in his arms. The sight of blood was the deal-breaker.

Immediately, Alexander pulled Demilade to him and placed a palm over her eye, protecting her from the gruesome sight.

"What is it?" Demilade, who was still unaware and innocently licking a lollipop, asked.

"Shhh. Just stay still, " Alex commanded.

Alexander faced a crying, battered David. "What's happening? Is she dead?" his heart started to beat faster as he whispered the question to his brother. Alex didn't believe a time would come when he'd ask that question, and it shocked him how easily it'd rolled off his tongue.

David shook his head sorrowfully. "No, " then he burst into another session of tears. "I-I—" he wanted to tell Alexander what he'd done but realized that he couldn't. The words wouldn't form. David had always loved his younger brother and confided in him dearly, but there was no way he could say this. Alexander would hate him no matter how innocently he tried to express his words. And that was it. David had become a monster who'd caused his little sister serious harm.

"I think the food she ate caused the reaction, " David said.

Alexander's gaze moved to the ceramic plate of leftover jollof on the floor. He wanted to open his mouth and ask an obvious question. They hadn't eaten jollof rice in two years, so where did the jollof come from? Yemisi had packed porridge in Alex's and Demi's food flask for lunch before leaving the house to hawk bread.

He had every right to question David and understand why Sindara was lying immobile on the floor, but he didn't. Instead, he shut his mouth and swallowed thickly.

"I'm scared, " Alexander confessed. A tear rolled down his eyes. Demilade wanted to struggle and free herself from Alexander's hold so she could see what was going on. Still, for some reason, she remained where she was—protected from evil.

"I am too. I don't know what to do, " David answered, feeling so foolish for every single thing—especially for the fact that he was making Alex feel this way.

"We should ask the neighbors to help us take her to the hospital, " Alex said with an affirmative tone. "I know someone that can help us without asking any questions, " he answered as though he'd read David's mind.

***

It was a lanky radio repairer who lived in a small shed a few houses away from Iya Saliu's shop. David wondered how he hadn't noticed the place while he was running through the neighborhood. David placed Sindara on his back; her arms wrapped loosely around his torso. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him while Alexander walked forward with Demilade. The sun had migrated to the west now, still shining brightly but not harshly.

Demilade knew there was an emergency at hand but didn't have an idea of what was going on, so for once, she wasn't her adamant self.

The shop owners and familiar passersby along the street wanted to ask questions as soon as they caught a glimpse of the four children running at an alarming speed but didn't get the chance to feed their curiosity.

As David ran, he faintly heard Iya Saliu say something about his sister in that exaggerated exclamatory tone that nosy Yoruba women spoke in when something terrible happened.

The radio repairer, true to Alexander's words, didn't ask any questions when they approached his compound. The tall man with sagged, wrinkled skin was sitting outside his muddy shed, on a bench, dressed in a white shirt and black suspenders, fixing a radio when Alexander barged in. David didn't fail to notice the look of knowing in the man's eyes once he saw Alex. He'd ask Alex how he got to know the man much later.

"Please, can you drive us to the hospital, sir? My sister is very sick, " Alex asked the man in a hurried tone, pointing towards an unconscious Sindara draped over David's back.

Immediately, the man stood from the bench and dropped the radio, and looked at the four children, all looking dejected.

"Okay, I will help right now, but I don't have money to pay for the hospital bill. This radio repairing job is not profiting me much, " he stated with a voice filled with concern, desperately wishing he had money.

David and Alexander looked at each other briefly, perhaps sharing the same thought. Then David broke the brief silence.

"Can you take Demi with you to go and look for Sister Yemisi while he drives Sindara and me to the hospital? She's probably made some little money by now. Please try and explain the situation to her."

David knew Alex didn't know much of the situation, and Yemisi was going to ask many questions before releasing any money for the hospital bill. Hence why he used the word 'try.'

Alex nodded. Before leaving the compound with Demi, he gave the radio repairer a thankful bow. The man waved gracefully.

"We need to get to the hospital right now. Your sister is bleeding," the man said.

His rickety Peugeot 505 emitted a lot of smoke from its booth pipe as he inserted the key into the keyhole, starting the ignition. David sat at the passenger's seat, his sister's head resting on his thigh. Thankfully, the radio repairer drove the car as fast as possible, even though it caused a lot of smoke and dust to cloud the air.

In less than twenty minutes, the man stopped at a clinic, a white story building. He alighted from the car and carried Sindara in bridal style, and rushed into the hospital. David followed suit. The nurses at the deck hurried to attend to the new, bleeding patient. In seconds, they placed Sindara on a stretcher and rushed her into a ward while David and the radio repairer wait by the reception.

Now that his sister was at the hospital, his thoughts came rushing back to his mind as he stared at the white walls of the hospital that smelled of antibiotics and watched nurses run from several rooms to another. He'd given his sister poisoned food to eat. He gave her a painful malady from joyfully feeding her a dangerously delicious plate of jollof rice.

What hurt him the most was how foolishly he'd done it. He knew he shouldn't have. Still, he wanted to provide a solution and tried to make himself believe that he'd done the best thing. He thought of his mother. His poor, pregnant mother. Tears rolled down afresh. He dug his hands deeply into his hair and fell on his knees, letting out a sorrowful outcry.

The man wrapped his arm around David's shoulders and squeezed it tenderly as he knelt to be on the same level. "Your sister will be okay, " he said. David's shoulders heaved up and down repeatedly as the tears fell. He didn't want to foolishly wish that his sister would be okay after the wickedness he'd done, but for the sake of his mother and how grossly he'd betrayed her, he wanted a miracle to happen.

God, please make my sister survive this. I will run away and cease to be my mother's son. Just save my mother from this tragedy, please.