I am so sorry for the length of this chapter in advance 😢 But oh well, maybe it makes up for all the time I wasn't here💔

I am actually sick, but had to make this one ready and I don't have strength to review and look for what to trim or cut down, cause this chapter is pretty deep, so we'll go with the flow, I guess.

~ACHA~

I disappointed my father again.

He found out. I'd tried my best to keep it a secret from him, but he found out.

And this Saturday morning, when I overheard his conversation with Mr. Ado over the phone, all the way from the living room. His deep, deep voice was bellowing and resounding, round the large living room, confirming the news he had heard about me, and I thought I was going to die of absolute shame for him.

I don't even know which felt worse; The fact that I had let him down again, or the fact that I would have to face another round of word crucifixion from him.

The entire Saturday, I had refused to leave my room. It had been nearly hours since I had been holding my hand to my chest, tightly, feeling my heartbeat speeding by the second, and trying to take in deep breaths to calm myself down. To assure myself it'll be fine.

It worked to a small extent, but the fact that panic - the worst kind of it- was about to set me off into another terrible dimension was something I couldn't control.

Maybe I could just stay in this room forever? I don't know. The fact that Dad had already found out.... That was enough to make me lose my peace.

It was in the middle of my breathing exercise that Mum sashayed into my room, whistling in all her obliviousness, and heading straight towards my closet, without a care in the world.

I would have asked what she was doing if only I didn't know.

The woman who seemed to be into whatever harmony she was whistling, completely and totally acting like I wasn't in existence, having a near panic attack on my bed in which I sat on, opened my wardrobe without permission, and casually started to search through my clothes like she owned them.

I sat down there, watching all the hoodies that I had very well properly arranged, flying around in the air and landing onto my bed, the ground, everywhere.

"Mum-" I wanted to call out to her, but the whistling, happy lady flung a stray black hoodie into the air in wild, reckless abandon - one that landed on my face, effectively cutting me off whatever I wanted to say.

I took the thick clothing away from my face and sighed. I was certain that today, this woman was going to rob me of every hoodie I ever had.

"Oh, perfect!" She said delightfully as she got a hold of one pink hoodie, out of the multitudes she had thrown all around the place.

Yeah, you can arrange my closet back now? I wanted to say to her, but I held that thought.

She was quick to put on the hoodie, admire how bogus and cute it looked on her, and inhale the scent of cologne that spread through the air around her from it, clearly impressed.

"And it smells so good too!" She informed me with wide eyes. Like she didn't know it was my hoodie.

She was quick to find her companion; The Vanity Mirror in my room. And as she stood there, admiring herself from head to toe, smiling in approval at how good my pink hoodie looked on her, along side the white tee and tight jeans she was having on.

"Ohhhhhh! Isn't Mama Acha rocking thissssssss?" She was praising herself.

As much as I loved this woman with all my heart...... I wasn't in the mood.

"Don't you think so, baby?" She asked as she started to empty all the chips and chocolate and every form of snack that was usually there on my reading table, stuffing them all into her mouth like a seven year old child.

How this woman ate everything she saw, and still stayed so fit..

"Baby, it's not me you're snubbing oo, God forbid!" She said as she stuffed more chocolate in her mouth.

"You're rocking the hoodie." I had to answer. Against my will. The lack of impression, evident in my tone.

Regardless, like it was none of her business, she smiled proudly, caressed her long braids with her new, acrylic done nails.

"Tell me something I don't know!" She adjusted the hoodie, before grabbing the stray bottle on the desk to pop it open.

I almost laughed, remembering last time she choked on that thing. Almost.

This woman didn't understand I wasn't in the mood right now.

She suddenly stopped admiring herself and looked downcast, a little sober look crossing her face... One that confused me.

I was about to ask if she was okay, but she suddenly whipped her head towards me, as if a serious thought seemed to suddenly drop in her mind.

"You know...?" A small, almost wistful, sad smile grazed her lips as she started with a soft tone.

I don't know why I suddenly wanted to hear this, but I stared at her with the most attentiveness I could muster.

"Of all my years of being an insanely gorgeous mother...."

I broke down in hysteric laughter.

The fuck was wrong with this woman!

I couldn't stop laughing and I didn't even understand why. I was just laughing, and I couldn't stop.

And I was impressed at how she did it. With the state I was just a few minutes ago, I didn't think anyone as capable of making me laugh.

"I've barely even said anything, and you're laughing, baby," Mum couldn't help but chuckle as she watched me.

I was still laughing.

"Well, of course, I'm not surprised," She flipped her hair in all her pride, moved her shoulders, flattered. "I've always been told that I was the charm! The calm in the midst of the storm! The light! I walk into a room and everything brightens up like a bulb! I'm a treasure! A wonder! A blessing! Sunshine-"

"Can you..." I choked on laughter. "Stop, please?"

A big smile married her face immediately. More like a grin, in fact.

"Oh, there we go! He's happy now! Mission accomplished!" She clapped excitedly.

I actually couldn't believe that this woman was able to make me smile. The entire Saturday had been me, fighting a panic attack, and she walked in here and magically sprinkled humour into the air.

She was all she said she was.

"But, on a serious note, though," She faced me head on, suddenly being so serious.

I wouldn't have taken her seriously if she didn't have just one of her eyes, lined with black eye liner, and the other one, lined with white.

I just wondered if she had walked into my room with that. I didn't remember seeing that on her eyes, until now.

"Of all my years of being a mum, your mum, there's one fact about you that hasn't changed," She said to me.

I looked at her, waited to heart whatever it was.

"You've always been so quick, so eager and fast to take the cross for other people....." She started, folded her arms as her eyes sobered up even more with her calm stare, "But when it comes to yourself, you back down."

I said nothing. Just looked away from her stare, uncomfortably.

"It's a blessing and a curse," She said to me. "Baby, being brave for other people is good, but you have to also be brave for yourself as well."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I said.

"Get up, we're going to meet your father." She deadpanned.

"I can't," I replied.

"Stand." She said to me, folded her arms, unimpressed.

"Can we please do this later?" I was starting to get frustrated.

"If I was the one in trouble with anyone who had a temper far worse than your fathers', you would have stepped in for me. Even if it meant taking a bullet," She was saying.

Sure. Why not?

"But why is it so that when it comes to yourself, you just sit down there and do nothing about it!" She scolded me.

"You don't understand, Mum, this isn't about me...." I managed to let out. "Dad is going to be disappointed. I disappointed him once again, as always, and I can't bare to see him in laments, beating himself up over and over about the fact I'm his son."

Mum's demeanour seemed to soften a lot, and I only glanced at her to know.

I ran my hands through my hair in tiredness and slight frustration, letting her know the major reason I just couldn't face my dad at that moment, "I'm just tired of hurting Dad."

"Is he ever tired of hurting you?" She asked me back.

"Mum-" I tried to argue.

"I'm with you." She said to me, assured me. "Things won't get out of control with you or your dad if I'm there."

I took her word for it.

And by my side, she walked with me to meet Dad in the Living room.

One step into the room, just one step was enough for me to feel all the sudden tension around us.

The Living room never been small. Never. Modestly, it was one of the largest spaces I had seen in any house. Yet, it felt claustrophobic in here, already. Even with the large space all around me, all around us, the white and gold walls that once used to look exotic and elegant seemed to look nauseating, and they were closing in on me, closing in on all of us.

"You'll be just mine." Mum mouthed to me, but I begged to differ.

Even the feel all around the room was the most eerie and uncomfortable it had ever been.

The various Candlelight Chandeliers that were decorated all around the white ceiling, the ones that gave the whole living room this almost dim, yet serene, comforting, and soft feel, was starting to give off an immensely eery, deadly creepy vibe that made me every uncomfortable.

And coupled with all the various flowers that were decorated by literally ALL the glass side stools by each white and gold leather couch, it didn't make the place look less like a funeral arrangement.

It took all my strength to stand my ground.

Ironic how no words had to be said to cause such discomfort.

Mum had made her way towards one of the large black and gold coloured, leather couches. The sofa, actually; the one directly under the largest, most beautiful chandelier - crossing her legs casually, and watching us carefully, as the lights of the chandelier reflected on her flawless dark skin, and Dad....

My hulk sized Dad was just sitting there, on the main couch that was opposite the large screen television. His biceps were flexing and unflexing as he hunched his back over, rested his elbows on his knees, and stared with so much concentration and vigour into the glass centre table in front of him, like he could see something else, past all the flower decorations on the table.

He seemed to not even have noticed my mum and I walk in.

Mum sat there, watching. I stood, troubled. And Dad sat there.... Oblivious. The kind of oblivious that was very very uncomfortable.

"Good evening, Sir." I cleared my throat to address him.

"I got a call from the Sports Master." He spoke into the table. Eyes; not moving from the spot that his glare penetrated on the glass.

"Sir?" I blinked.

"I know you heard me clearly." He deadpanned, and I was forced to straighten up an imaginary faulty posture, and move my shoulders as the discomfort from the word he deepened and stressed, attacked me.

"Sir, I-"

"When were you going to tell me, Son?"

I couldn't even answer. I literally could not cook up an answer.

"Tell you what, sir." I dared to utter

"Don't ask me dumb questions, son. You know exactly what I'm talking about." He responded, his voice, coming in an eerie quiet, deep tone that unsettled me greatly.

"I..." I was short of words. Tension increased in the room, and the room got colder. Much colder than it should get. It was as though I was a dead man. "I'm sorry, sir."

That was when he moved. First, it was his head that tilted as he stared upon the table like he couldn't configure some strange, invisible symbols on them, then his head turned to me and eyes that were spilling out dangerous anger, and one hell of intimation note into mine directly, threatening to blind me with such direct eye contact.

It took everything in me to not step back and crumble under my Dad's hostile, heavy, nearly demonic glare.

Mum looked at him, unbothered. I almost heard her pop gum. If it wasn't in my head.

"Sorry?" Again with that deadly quiet tone he had that scared me to death. "You're sorry?"

I looked away from his hard stare, but felt him walking towards me with a measurable speed.

"I'm sorry for failing you..." I kept saying. "For what happened on Thursday too.... For whatever other reason you're mad at me...."

For whatever other reason you're mad... God! I was well aware I was spewing bullshit, but I couldn't help it.

"Oh, they're quite a number of them," He basically towered over me with his height and mass, and it felt like his voice got deeper, more intense, more angry.

I would have said anything if I could speak. And at times like this, I'm reminded of the fact that my dad was the scariest person in the world, and no matter how much I tried, I wouldn't fully be able to back-chest him.

In other words, I stepped back from his hulk size, absolutely horrified.

"Solomon, you're scaring our child!" Mum was quick to reprimand him.

Dad stopped. Stood there in front of me, glaring directly into my eyes, and towering over me for more than the count of a second.

"Solomon." Mum warned.

He stepped back, slowly tracing his hard gaze away from me, before walking back to the couch he was sitting on, resuming that dangerous glare on the glass table.

Mum nodded to me. Telling me everything was under your control.

"Uju, you don't have to be here." Dad said to her.

"Why? So, you can kill our son right under our roof? Over my dead body." Mum retorted.

He didn't respond to her again.

"When." He was talking to me. "When were you going to tell me you were made the Assistant Head of the Senior School team, let's begin with that."

"I wasn't sure how you were going to take it," I told him the truth. 

"I wasn't exactly ecstatic." He deadpanned, fists folding over the other.

I knew he wouldn't be.

"But, at least, I was relieved that you'd actually graduate Castron High with having a useful post to show of for in Sports," He continued.

I knew where this was heading. My heart.

"I was actually thinking; At least, my son can do something useful for me. Even if it was almost nothing, at least he had a peanut to show off for."

I looked away from him, looked to the neat living room tiles on the ground, and felt like they should just open up and swallow me whole.

"But then, son, I barely had enough seconds to bask in that little joy..."

I wasn't looking at him, but I felt his hard gaze boring holes into my whole being.

"... Only for Mr. Ado to give me a brief summary of how you lost the post?"

My heart dropped.

There was an edge to his voice. A severe edge that made the hairs of my body to stand. A defined edge that was not there before.

I still felt that dangerous gaze on me.

"I..." I couldn't even form a good sentence. "I'm sorry, sir."

I knew he knew. About all that. Me, losing the post.

And, the only thing I was more scared about my dad finding out than the truth, was the details surrounding the truth. The details all around the reason I lost the post. 

"You had the audacity to lose this so quickly," Dad said to me.

I'm sorry.

"Two days, son. That was all it took you." His voice was surprisingly still calm.

I'm sorry.

"TWO DAYS!" He suddenly shouted, I flinged, not expecting him to blow up like that.

"Solomon!" Mum screamed back.

The air was toxic for me already.

I looked to Dad for the first time and saw all the lividness and anger in his eyes, all the disappointment , and I actually lost my breath for a moment, lost my confidence, lost my will power, lost my self esteem, and my my heart, my whole entire being tore to pieces, and shredded in bits before this man and he didn't even seem to give a shit.

"Dad, I..." I sounded hopeless, fought against breaking down in front of him and proving to him that I was indeed weak and unable like he thought me to be. "I didn't mean to, Dad... I..." 

I couldn't even form a sentence, my heart was beating so fast as my brain kept reminding me of how much I was a failure to my father. My hands were shaking, my whole body was heating up, and my altered, laboured breathing couldn't even let me be as I held myself together, used up all the remaining little strength I could muster up to not break down in front of him.

"Can't you see what you're doing to him?!" My mum was screaming at him.

I staggered, forced strength upon myself and stood my ground, forcing myself to not falter.

"Do you even know the gravity of the offences our son is charged for in school?!" Dad shocked me by screaming back at Mum. 

I knew. Not only had he found out about Tuesday when I got into trouble with Kaniru and his boys, but he also found out about what I did on Thursday.

That day, during one of the matches, Ivandor and I were getting most of the hypes for scoring the most goals on that very friendly match of football. It was not so friendly anyway, because the moment I realised that half time was nearly over, and Ivandor was making a head for it, attempting to score one more goal, the last goal that would have thereby, made his goal counts,  one ahead of mine, I got so angry......

"Destroy him." Dad's words, once upon a time, came to me.

In that moment of pure rage, I wasn't thinking anymore. 

Once again, it was all going to be about him. When my brother, Justice, was in this school, everything concerning sports was always all about him, and my Dad never stopped to remind me of how many times I had let Ivandor take my thunder.

Once again, it was going to be one more random proof that Ivandor Fejaun was always going to be one step ahead of me in everything. No matter what.

Once again, it was going to be big reminder to me how my dad would rather be so ever proud of Ivandor, over his own son. No matter what I do.

I wasn't thinking. God knows I wasn't thinking at that moment.

"It was an accident..." I pathetically tried to redeem myself.

I lied. It wasn't. I did everything I did, deliberately.

When Ivandor was about running past me with the ball, I aimed him like I was aiming a ball, slided my leg in between his, and watched in sick pleasure as he - running in all his speed and vigour - tripped over it, and landed face down on the ground, roughly twisting an ankle in the process.

I did it on purpose.

And people were witnesses.

Mr. Ado was one of the others that tried to give me the benefit of the doubt, but people like Mr. Harry and Mr. Jimmy were convinced it was as deliberate as it could be. The fact that I already had a case of gang aggravated assault pending against me by the School committee, and the fact that I 'intentionally' injured another player on the field, circumstances failed to be in my favour.

Hence, the consequences came with it. I lost my post, and Dad found out. I just didn't understand why I always had into get into so much trouble all the time.

"You know it wasn't an accident." Dad retorted, slamming a fist into the glass table - a powerful slam that forced all the flower vases to fall and hit the ground - as he stood up.

"Can you calm yourself, Solomon!" Mum rushed to grab my hand in hers, this time around, like my dad was a creature in horns that she wanted to protect me from.

I can handle myself, Mum.

"You told me to destroy him," I tried to say, resisting my Mum's efforts to pull me out of the atmosphere.

I couldn't leave now. Not when Dad was so furious with me.

"Dad, you told me to destroy him," I reminded him again.

"ON THE FIELD, SON! FOR GOD'S SAKE, ON THE FIELD!" He screamed at me. "HOW ABOUT PUTTING THAT MUCH ENERGY YOU USED IN INJURING THAT BOY INTO BEATING HIM ON THE FIELD!"

"I'm sorry," I sounded tired and broken, every strength I was summoning was starting to water down. "I'm so, so sorry, I don't know what else to say."

"He made a mistake, Solomon!" Mum wouldn't leave me alone.

"I tried," I fought back threatening tears. Tears that were even starting to blur my eyes.

 "I tried, I tried my best," I told him, tried desperately to convince him, "I tried everything to get better, because... because you said I should, I..." I breathed in and out, forced firmness into my breaking voice. "You wanted me to, so I tried my best. I stay back a few hours after Sports, just to train more. I.. I downloaded some of those videos online that's help me get better too, and I..I.. even watched started making training notes too, like... like.. like the ones Justice used to keep in his room, and and....those daily reminders and...."

"It's okay, it's okay, I know you did your best, baby!" Mum was assuring me.

Dad, however, looked at me like I was a clown.

"And so you really tried that hard, so hard like you claim, and what? Ivandor was just so difficult to overcome that you had to play dirty, then? Is that how much better than you that he is? That no matter how much you try hard, he still disgraces you?" He sternly asked me.

I felt daggers in my heart.

Yes.

I closed my eyes, admitting that that was the truth, and no matter how hard I tried, Ivandor would always be better. I closed my eyes to sink it all in as all my self esteem battered down, washed down, rendered me naked and useless before my father. I closed my eyes and felt tears squeeze through my eyelids and drop.

Loser. That's what I am. Loser. Loser. Loser. Boys aren't meant to cry. Loser. Loser.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!" Dad screamed at my face. "Instead of you to focus on truly working harder, you're busy thinking of how to win by mere short cuts? Is that how I trained you? Is that how I trained your brother? Do you think your brother would have been have as good as he was if he used your technique? DO YOU THINK IVANDOR FEJAUN WOULD BE WHERE HE IS RIGHT NOW IF HE WAS AS LAZY AS YOU ARE?! HOW ON EARTH DID I RAISE SUCH A SORE LOSER! YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT! YOU CAN'T DO IT!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, SOLOMON!" Mum shrieked,

Jesus.

I held a fist to my mouth to stop, force that scream of agony and pain that almost escaped through it as my Dad's words shattered me into a million pieces. Completely and utterly destroyed the last bit of confidence I ever had in myself.

"JUSTICE NEVER HAD TO GO OUT OF HIS WAY TO BRING OTHER PEOPLE DOWN!" He completely ignored Mum as he continued to scream at me. "HE DIDN'T NEED TO, AND YOU KNOW WHY? HE WORKED, SON! YOUR BROTHER, JUSTICE, WORKED HARD! HE WORKED FOR WHAT HE WANTED AND DID THINGS THE RIGHT WAY! WHEN YOU WORK HARD ENOUGH SON, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO RESORT TO DIRTY MEANS TO GET WHAT YOU CAN'T DO DONE!"

"I'm sorry," That was all I could say as a damn shower spilled out of my eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for any of this to happen!"

"SORRY? YOU'RE SORRY?!" Dad seemed to rile up even more.

"Solomon, stop being hard on the kid! You of all people should understand him that right now!" Mum screamed at him.

"NO, I SHOULD BE THE ONE BEING SORRY!" He ignored Mum again to bellow at me, closed up the space between us to tell me to my face, "I'm the one that should be sorry! I should be sorry for having a son like you! I should be sorry for failing to train you the way I did your brother! I should be sorry for failing as a father! Having a son like you is enough for one to be sorry about for all their lives!"

Mum charged him like a wounded animal.

She legit jumped on him, kicking and screaming and trying to punch, going the most ballistic I had ever seen her go in my whole entire life.

He didn't even budge. It looked like she was fighting a brick wall.

"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!"

"WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU THESE PAST YEARS!"

"WHAT KIND OF MAN HAVE YOU BECOME! 

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE ANYMORE!"

That was my Mum, screaming and attacking as Dad just stood there, not even shifting an inch from her gruesome attacks, not feeling a single thing.

As the both of them exchanged words, I just stood there, letting all the tears blur my vision until it was completely blinded by tears. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, as my Dad's words replayed like a broken siren in my head, attacking me anew from every harsh word, tearing me further and further to pieces.

"How can you even stand by his side, Uju?"

"He's our son, Solomon! He's our child! How can you aim to break you own child everyday like this? What kind of pressure is this you put on him! Don't you understand that every child is blessed differently? So what if there are others better than him?"

"I did not give birth to a failure!"

"Our child is NOT A FAILURE!"

"Then, tell me what he is good for! Tell me what this boy is good for! I want to hear it! Is it lazying around, because he's an expert at that one! Or is it mixing up into wayward groups and getting into trouble?! Is that it?!"

"He can't be perfect, can you just take it easy on this boy!"

"Yeah, like your own parents took it easy on you? NO WONDER YOU ENDED UP LIKE THIS!"

I swallowed Jupiter.

No wonder you ended up like this?

Dad did not just say that to Mum.

He did not just bring her misfortune in the race of life into this whole matter.

I looked at Mum, and knew instantly that Dad had lost this fight. Her eyes were burning with tears that screamed rage, hurt, and indignation, and my heart broke into pieces for her.

"You didn't even have to go there." She looked at him, glared at him. Her voice was restrained, hard and cold, as she death stared her own husband like he was an enemy.

Dad looked like all shades of regret.

"I didn't mean that, Uju.." He tried to redeem himself.

Mum scoffed, shook her head, poisonous venom lingered in that bitter sarcastic laugh.

"Screw yourself, Solomon Acha."

With that, she grabbed my hand and walked me out of the Living room with her.

My body felt weightless, lifeless as my mum just walked in all her fury, dragging me along with her and headed up the stairs, taking the route I knew was headed to my room.

But, that was the most I was certain about concerning my environment.

In my head, there was a crucifixion. My crucifixion.

Each word my Dad uttered replayed over and over, dripping the most toxic and deadly poison into my heart, and ripping me in half, three, a million little, broken pieces.

"I did not give birth to a failure!"

Yes, he did. He did. I am a failure. Always have been to him.

"HE WORKED, SON! YOUR BROTHER, JUSTICE, WORKED HARD!"

Meanwhile, I was the useless, slothful disgrace of a son.

"I'm the one that should be sorry! I should be sorry for having a son like you!"

Maybe I shouldn't have been your son. Maybe I shouldn't be your son.

"Having a son like you is enough for on to be sorry about for all their lives!"

I exhaled a shaky breathe. One I had been holding in for as long as I couldn't remember. A painful breathe that felt like I was exhaling all my being through it. Ironically, it only made me feel worse. Breathing wasn't working anymore. And each exhaled breath made my eyes blur with more burning tears. Tears that felt like acid.

"You really tried that hard, so hard like you claim, and what? Ivandor was just so difficult to overcome that you had to play dirty, then? Is that how much better than you that he is? That no matter how much you try hard, he still disgraces you?"

"DO YOU THINK IVANDOR FEJAUN WOULD BE WHERE HE IS RIGHT NOW IF HE WAS AS LAZY AS YOU ARE?! HOW ON EARTH DID I RAISE SUCH A SORE LOSER! YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT! YOU CAN'T DO IT!"

"Baby?"

Mum muttered my name hesitantly and on feeling her touch my shoulder, I sound myself completely falling into hers', shredding every bit of strength I had been trying to hold up in front of my father, and expelling them out, completely breaking down in her tight, warm embrace.

I was taller, she was shorter. My head drooped down onto her shoulder as I squeezed the fabric of my hoodie that she was wearing, holding her back almost as strongly as she was holding me, and bawling my eyes out in tears, wetting the fabric all over, panting with shaky breaths, crying, completely being the most vulnerable I could get. Ever.

Boys don't cry. Boys aren't meant to cry. What is this?

"It's okay, baby, it's okay," She held onto me, let me cry on her as she pressed my head onto her shoulder, crying softly along with me.

We were in my room now. It took me until then to realise. And God knows how long I stayed there with my mum, crying and crying and crying.

"Listen to me, baby. Listen!" There was an urgency in her tone as she pulled me along to sit with her on my bed, eyes that were brimming with tears, were also filled with so much alert and assurance, as she cupped my face in her hands to look me in the eyes as she spoke.

"Listen, baby, don't listen to your father, okay? You are not a failure!" She told me.

"Are you sure?" I cried more, my voice coming off to sound a lot less firm than I wanted it to be.

"Yes! Yes, I am sure! I am so sure, baby! I have never been more sure of anything else in my life!" She was almost sounding desperate, too desperate for me to hear her out, to believe her.

Hands cupping my face desperately, her tear filled eyes followed mine and I suddenly refused to look at her. I looked away from her. Down from her face. I couldn't look at her. Not when I was crying like this. Not when I couldn't control the tears, no matter how much I tried.

"Listen to me," She said, still tried to get back that eye contact we lost as she held onto the edges of my face. "You are not ordinary."

Why couldn't I stop crying? Why couldn't I look at her? Why couldn't I believe her?

"You are not ordinary, baby. No matter how bad things may seem now, I assure you of that fact," She said to me, softly, but in a tone that sounded a lot more intense, or scared.

"Are you really sure, Mum?" I asked again, sounding even more like a broken discord.

"Yes, I'm sure!" She answered. 

"Name one good thing about me," I wanted a desperate answer. Closed my eyes and let hot burning tears fall down from them. I needed an answer.

"There are so many!" She looked like she didn't even know where to start.

"Name one," I pleaded earnestly.

"Your determination," She said to me. "Baby, I love the fact that when you set your mind to do something, you do EVERYTHING  in your power to make sure it gets done!"

She left my face to hold onto my hands, tightly, desperately.

"And if you are certain beyond reasonable doubts that that is really what you want to do. IF YOU ARE, nothing will stop you, and absolutely NOTHING will stop it from being done too!" She said to me.

"That's not true," I cried. I had been trying for years to bring Ivandor down for years and it hadn't been done!

"Okay, okay," She held me, breathing in and out, a little too rushed, "Remember when you were seven and you came home sad because you could not lift that bowling ball in Gomery."

I breathed. "Yeah?"

I remembered. It was the day of Sean's seventh birthday party when his Dad took us to Gomery for our 'Men's Hangout' celebration.

"So, what did you do after that day?" She asked me.

I sniffed. Wiped the tip of my nose. "I came back the next day to lift it."

"And did you?" She asked.

I shook my head 'No'.

"Then, what did you do?" She further asked.

"I..." Sniffed again. "I came back everyday after that day just to try, and I was able to lift it when I turned 13."

"You tried everyday for seven whole years," She said.

I did. 

"Your big heart just adds a bonus to that determination you have," She said to me.

What big heart?

"Remember when you were ten, and you and Sean were playing with that little kite he made for his school project?" Mum asked me.

"Yeah?" I remembered.

"And remember it got stuck up the tree of the neighbour's house?" She said.

"I remember," I told her. 

Sean cried his eyes out that day. 

"What did you do?" Mum asked me.

"I climbed the tree to get it for him," I recalled slowly.

"You climbed the highest top of a tree at the age of ten," Mum said, "Even amidst all the screams of all the neighbours, even amidst the fact that what you were doing was very dangerous, you made up your mind you would help Sean nonetheless, and no one was able to stop you." 

I guess.

"And then, I can never forget when you came home with a terrible cold that day in Primary three...." She continued.

I laughed a little, remembering exactly what she was talking about. So did she.

It was raining heavily that morning of School, and JJ had an asthma attack in class. As usual, he  didn't have his inhaler, and while everyone was in hysteric panic, I decided to get an inhaler for him.

Of course, I didn't know how. I was just eight years old and didn't have any money. I still went ahead anyway, ran out of class, ran out of school, pushed my way through the gate men and security guards that wouldn't let me run into the streets alone, and when I fought my way through, I got to a pharmacy, stole an inhaler, and ran back to school just to help JJ.

"Do you even know how much confusion and commotion you caused that day?" Mum said to me, "And you went down with a horrific cold that scared the life out of me!"

I laughed, wiped a tear in my left eyelid. "I was wanted JJ to be okay."

"And you were ready to tear down the order of universe just for that." She said to me. "At such a young age," Her eyes softened at me, she looked at me like I was useful.

It meant a lot. It meant a whole lot.

"The only problem, baby, is that as you grew, I have watched you channel all that energy and determination into the wrong things," She decided to be more truthful.

My breath stopped for a moment on hearing the hard truth.

Was she right? My reputation in school? Staying worthy in front of my peers? Beating Ivandor Fejaun and being the best? Was she right?

"Into things that I'm not even sure you really, truly want." She added, looked at me.

No, those were all I wanted. I wanted to impress Dad. I wanted to impress my classmates. I was certain that was what I wanted.

"Now, you see, baby," Mum went on, "How you know that this your character perk has turned into a flaw is when it seems like your aims are starting to be misguided. When all you search for and work for is vanity. When all you so, so work hard for isn't even for you."

I looked down on the tiles of my room, eyes downcast. 

"Are you saying I'm doing things wrong?" I asked her, "Dad says I never do anything right. That I never work." 

"No, that's not what I mean. My only problem is that my baby does too much. Too much! And especially for the wrong reasons," She said.

She pulled herself, raised my chin up to get back eye contact.

"Have you ever tried impressing yourself, Marcus?" She asked me. "No, not your  dad. Not your classmates. Just yourself?"

I.. don't know.

"Instead of trying to be better than Ivandor Fejaun, have you tried being better than yourself?" She asked me.

What would that do for me? Dad would still not be satisfied until I can beat Ivandor Fejaun.

"Listen, son," Mum continued. "You have to learn to do things for you."

Okay.

"Love yourself the way you love others. Whole heartedly. Unconditionally. Aggressively. And I've said this before and I'll say it again, learn to also be brave for yourself. To unapologetically do what you want and get what you want, the same way you do for others! You can't be jumping into fire for others but when it's your turn to jump in, you back down. If you want something for yourself, get it for yourself! Confidently! Boldly! And without apologies! I know how far you can go for other people, do that for yourself too!"

I continued wiping off my tears, heeding to her words. 

"Just make sure of one thing," She told me, "Make sure whatever it is you are fighting to do is something in your passion line. Because I assure you of one thing, if you channel all that determination and will power into the wrong thing, into something you are not a hundred percent sure is what you truly want, you will find yourself regretting it all in no time, and pulling back when things start to get out of control. No matter how long your will power lasts, if you're not doing something you want to do, it won't progress much. And when that happens, you will give up."

"Okay, Mum," I nodded, heard her.

"Good," She said, "Just ask yourself one question. What do you want?"

"Thank you," I said to her. God knows I loved this woman.

She nodded. "Well, I need to get along to bed, don't you think?" I watched her stand up and easily saw threw her and figured something out....

She was shaking.

Like, her hands were shaking.... Ever so slightly. But I could see it.

And that's when I realised, with the urgency in her voice, the urgency in her body language, as she held me to assure me of everything she thought of me, I realised...

She was scared of having me make the same mistakes she made in her youth.

She was scared of making me end up like her.

That wistful smile twitched on her face as she blessed me with a genuine goodnight smile, and made her way to leave my room, quietly.

"Mum?" I called her back.

She stopped. Slowly turned to me, forced her smile to stay on her face.

"Will you be okay?" I asked her.

"Because of what your dad said to me? I'll be fine." She weakly waved it off. "He's the one that has the problems. He knows he's not sleeping on the bed with me tonight, he wouldn't dare."

I laughed.

Every time Mum and Dad had a fight, whether it was her fault, or his fault - which it was, most of the time - he slept on the Living room couch.

"And hey!" Mum called me to attention. "I saw that Dance Video that went viral on Social Media with you and that girl."

I laughed again. "She kinda hates me now, anyway, so it doesn't matter." 

"Oh, you're just being dramatic!" Mum slapped the air, dismissing that thought.

I shook my head. She didn't even get it.

"I just didn't know you went back to dancing." Mum said.

I dared to, lol. Even when we both know how Dad destroyed that field completely.

"I'm doing everything possible to hide that video away from your dad," Mum told me, "He won't find out."

"Thank you," I was immensely grateful.

She smiled at me. "And in the mean time, check your Whatssap. I sent you something."

"I will," I said.

She was just about to leave and I called her back again.

"About what happened with that Ss2 boy. The whole gang assault thing, I wasn't a part of it," I told her.

"I know," Mum said. "You'd never. I just don't understand how you got into such a mess."

"I..." I scratched the back of my head as I told her the truth. "I was trying to help Sean."

Her eyes lighted up, glinted. "Really."

"Yeah," I said, "I wasn't even intending to get into the fight, it looked too messy. But when Sean ran right in... I... I guess I wasn't thinking."

Mum smiled at me. An 'I told you so' smile, mouthed a 'good night' and winked at me, before leaving my room.

So much for today, lol.

As Mum had asked me to, I opened the message she had sent me on Whatssap and what I saw melted my heart...... and brought back so many old memories.

A picture.

I sat there on my bed, staring at the picture for almost an eternity.

She still had this?

I don't even know why I was prompted to, but I forwarded that picture straight to my Whatssap status...... Like, it was going to make a difference. I still did it anyway.

And I was just about to hit the shower and cuddle up into bed, when I got a massive shocker.

Wait, what?

I looked at it again and again and again.

Dabeluchi viewed my status. And she was the first person out of nine others to do so.

I saw myself in her DM in no time and seeing that 'online' status at the top left corner made my heart skip a beat....... Too many beats.

Dabeluchi was online. She was online!

This means she hadn't blocked my number, and to be able to view my status, she hadn't deleted it too.

And like that was not shocking enough, right before my eyes, I saw a message drop into my DM from her.

Hey. That was all it read. No emojis, no more words, Just a 'hey'.

Adrenaline spiked in me as the excitement hit different, like I won a lottery.

She texted! I had asked her to text if she believed me! She texted!

My thumbs were about to start action, I was about to even deliver a whole ass essay on how much I wasn't expecting her not to ever talk to me again.

But, then I stopped.

Going back to Dabeluchi would mean going back to Dance. And going back to dance would mean more trouble with my old man.

I remembered Mum's words; Just ask yourself one question, what do you want?

What do you want?

What do I want?

I already knew my answer.

I want to impress my father.

I don't want to fail him anymore.

I want him to be proud of me.

With that final decision, I switched off my phone, tossed it on my bed, and headed into the shower.

It tore me to write this chapter.

If only this boy called Marcus Acha knew how extraordinary he really was. I have already mapped out the future lives of all the characters in my book and how they all ended up in this race of life, and you guys don't even understand how much that Acha has in stall for him. There is no character in the whole TLT and TMBT combined that is going to be more successful than Marcus Acha in future, (sorry for the spoiler)..... but he doesn't know all that his creator has waiting, preparing for him.

So, just like Marcus Acha, no matter how horrible it may seem for you right now, no matter how useless you feel, no matter how much you have failed yourself and people you loved, just bear in mind that you are not ordinary.

After all, no successful person in life has a sweet back story to tell. *Wink wink*

Sorry again for the length of this chapter. See y'all soon.♥️