Ms. Rawlings
(a story)
my eyes darted to the pair of scissors, just barely under my pillow, a few feet away. somewhere between my stream of consciousness, Ms. Rawlings' voice mumbled incoherent words, she was saying something I heard but could not really register at the moment as my attention was at the scissors, wincing thoughtfully and wondering how fast I could make the distance. would I do it? but isn't this one a bit too much now?
"Hannah."
"hm?"
quickly snapping out of my thoughts, I turned once again to look at the women in front of me. she was peering intently into my face, her's drawn taut and with a small smile playing over her lips. she quietly adjusted her glasses, then scribbled something on the notepad sitting in her laps. watching the pen dance rhythmically over white sheets, I didn't look up when she repeated what was said, "Hannah, I was asking how you think our meetings are going so far. have you been keeping tabs on your progress?", she peered over the rims of her glasses now and I absently wondered if it was Cartier. well, atleast one of the fakes.
I loath these meetings now. everything about coming to this strange place made me want to crawl out of my skin. Ms. Rawlings is, apparently, too nosy and I think she derives special joy in barraging me with questions. good ones, terrible ones, personal ones, they were all the same to me.
that's one thing I've hated. questions. everywhere I go were people, people with their probing eyes, filled with something that brought stings to the back of my eyes whenever I thought about it. disappointment.
and so they ask questions. why did you do it? what kind of monster are you? what-? why-?
"yes. I took your advice and have been cutting off people that were not contributing to my peace and growth.", finally, I beamed a smile at her, straightening up on the soft sofa. It creaked a little from the weight, "you were right, they can't afford my attention."
yes, the price of my attention cost an arm and a leg. literally. somewhere inside my head, Mabel's high-pitched screams resounded, it rang until her voice grew hoarse and she, exhausted and weak from all the bleeding. that serves her right, atleast next time she'd think twice before running her mouth at me. there won't even be a next time. since she likes to shout, I might as well give her something to shout about.
earlier that fateful morning, I had only thought to do my laundry but the water I had in my room wasn't much so I set out with two buckets to the tap downstairs. I got there to see a small queue forming, as is usual every single time.
we always stood in queues to do anything here, since the landlord's refusal to renovate the building and add more utilities for us. so every day, one had to endure long or short queues to fetch water at the tap. I was grateful the line this time wasn't so long and so I fell in with the last person. two buckets to my turn and I discovered that whoever own the bucket in front of mine probably left the queue or something as they were no where to be found.
and so, seizing up on the opportunity, I quickly maneuvered and switched our buckets, so that mine was in front now. it got to my turn and just as I was filling my bucket and thanking my luck that I didn't have to wait so long, the owner of the other bucket came back. that was when hell broke loose. Mabel, apparently the troublesome neighbor in our compound, screamed accusations on how I one upped her and other such extremities. I thought that to be really dramatic, as my bucket was already filled up and since no one had joined the line again, she could have the tap for all I care.
I thought to quietly ignore the raving woman and carry my water upstairs but just as I reached out for the handle, Mabel's quick feet gotta them first. I watched in shock as the liquid bathed everywhere, she had tipped the contents of my bucket, spilling water all over the place. satisfied with her act of wickedness, she had hissed and carted away her bucket, back into her room.
amidst all this, I never said a word. no, I wasn't the type to shout and curse and kick people's buckets. I'm not Mabel and I will never be. but I do know how to handle the likes of her. my therapist taught me that, you see. how to handle people like Mabel. she said to cut them off, you see. ofcourse, someone like Mabel doesn't deserve my attention but oh she paid so, so dearly for it.
that evening, I had sneaked over to the gate man's backyard which also served as a storage place for his gardening and working tools. on getting there, I picked up a machete from the select of tools, hid it under my shirt and walked back gingerly to my room. I waited patiently till 1am and then setting out with my weapon and my face covered, I navigated my way to Mabel's door. knocking faintly on the door, I quietly noted my steady heartbeat. It was so quiet into the night that I could hair the faint thump ringing in my ear. It wasn't loud or frantic, and I understood it signifies the absence of fear.
yes. Mrs. Rawlings, I hate to admit, was right. cutting people off was definitely the right thing to do. I heard someone stir inside the room and after a while, a shuffle of feet and for a split second, I looked up to the heaven's and sent gratitude to whoever was out there for sending the therapist my way. she was slowing becoming the answer to my problems.
the wooden door opened after some time and, immediately Mabel's small head peeked at me from behind, I quickly kicked open the door with my feet. first to do, actually, no dey pain. sleep vanished from her eyes at once and she yelped and ran back into the room. her eyes widened when she saw the machete in my hand and I could see her quickly calculating if screaming for help was the best option.
“please..", she clasp both palm together in plea, "if it's money you want, I really do not have any. please, spare me!"
money? ahh no, I told you before that she couldn't pay me enough for my attention. darting at her, so swiftly that she didn't expect it, I watched the lifeblood stream in rivulets at where my weapon had landed. the orange bulb on the ceiling revealed red liquid pouring out, as Mabel fell to the floor screaming her lungs out and holding the shoulder where I had cut her. the cut revealed a gaping wound and I thought I saw bone. that didn't stop me, I released the machete again and it landed with a sharp thud as blade met the flesh on her feet. with my goal accomplished, I quickly ran out of the room before the other neighbors woke up to the commotion. back at my room, I had soaked my outfit and the machete in bleach and tied them up with an big sack. then I took a hot bath right after.
watching the steam rise from my bare body, I pondered over what had happened.
atleast that'll teach her not to go about troubling people who wanted no trouble, I thought. there was no way they could tie the incident to me and the only thing I had to worry about was to discard the items. that wasn't going to be a problem as I could always burn the clothes and throw the machete into a bush somewhere. It had all gone to plan and that night, while the neighbors were frantically trying to get a bolt ride to cart an already unconscious Mabel to the hospital, I slept like a baby.
my attention came back to Ms. Rawlings. she had taken off her glasses now, dropping it on the table between us, along with her note pad. I've always thought she was beautiful with them on, but taking them off, she looked even more breathtaking. her eyes were a pale blue, and it glinted faintly in the light. It was a very unusual eye color for our people, but I excused it on the fact that Ms. Rawlings is not like our people.
she's... different.
yes, she annoys me occasionally with her questions but she always provided solutions to my problems and she is the only one that seem to show genuine care about me. no, she's not like our people at all and only I know the difference. her pretty eyes, small mouth and broad nose gave more attention and beauty to her features. she was always smartly dressed and knew exactly what to wear to fit her physique perfectly. an epitome of beauty, she is, and the reason why I chose to continue our sessions, even after the Mabel incident.
speaking of Mabel, the little wimp survived. but as I guessed, she wasn't able to name her attacker and so the matter was dismissed as a failed robbery attempt.
the thought brought a smile to my face and earned me an inquisitive look from my pretty therapist. uh oh.
"what are you thinking about, Hannah? it seems to amuse you. let me in on the thought?", Ms. Rawlings asked again. she spoke softly, always. in as much as I hated her prying and probings, I loved hearing the sound of her voice. perhaps, that was what made me follow her guidance so diligently, because she delivered them in such reassuring and confident manner.
ofcourse, she had to have the answers if she maintained such a cool demeanor regardless what I tell her.
"I was just thinking about our conversations. since I've been putting your teachings into practice, I've had no problem embracing my inner peace. I'm really glad I met you.", I beamed a toothy smile at her and she smiled back, sultry and reassuringly. if only she knows how much lengths I am ready to go for her.
"have you been channeling your anger into productivity like I taught you to?", Ms. Rawlings suddenly asked.
I gave her a small nod. ofcourse, I take her teachings very seriously, she should know this.
I've got the obituary in front of our compound gate to prove it. the poor guy didn't have to go that way but one thing Ms. Rawlings taught me is that when people don't respect you, instead of begging them to, you should reciprocate the energy. and that is what I did.
I had just gotten home from class that fateful Friday and decided to do a little studying before the day got dark. the compound was quiet and lonely, as everyone else was either away for work or school. I stripped out of my uniform and took a cold shower, then afterwards made noodles for lunch. I duly noted the decrease in noodle seasoning and I shook my head in disgust. being in this country is indeed very terrible.
having dished out my meal, I settled into my reading table to start the task at hand, when all of a sudden a loud disturbance sliced through the quietude enveloping the environment.
turns out that Jude, my rascallous neighbor that lived downstairs had turned his stereo system on full blast, spinning all the latest afrobeat releases one after the other. this, like my season-less noodles, did not go down well with me at all. I covered my food and quietly went down to ask him to reduce his music.
on getting to his room, I had to knock on the door really hard and for a long time before Jude came to answer, clad in draws only, with a toothpick lodged between his teeth and one in his hair. ignoring the quizzical look on his face, I had promptly asked him to turn down the music as I had studies to attend to. to this, he had laughed manically and asked me to leave his sight. It was his house and he could do whatever he wanted, he said. the air was hot and the mid-Friday sun beat down heavily on my head. my stomach churned continuously with pangs of hunger but none were as intense as the anger welling up inside my heart.
who are raising all these people?! didn't his mother teach him to talk to a woman with respect? or maybe he was one of those kids who refused paying attention to elders' advice.
back when I was younger, whenever one of us disobeyed our elders, my mother would give the offender a resounding knock on the skull, or she'd twist your ear into knots until it feels like it'll fall from it's attachments. I concluded then that maybe Jude has never had his skull knocked on or ears boxed so hard that his blood rang in his ears, therefore the mantle has fallen upon me to teach his some manners.
just as he turned around to head back into his room, I rushed at him immediately, shoving him as hard as I could. the impact of the push had him knocked off balance and the widened look in his eyes was the last thing I saw just as he fell hard on the concrete, breaking his skull in the process. he twitched and gurgled incoherent sounds for a few minutes and everything went still. a pool of blood formed almost immediately where he lay, scarlet red and gleaming.
he was found lifeless that evening by another neighbor that claimed he came to take his charger he had lent Jude the previous day.
both his ears had been cut off and stuffed into his mouth and they said he had a look of terror in his widened eyes right before he died. the compound whispered speculations as to what horrors he probably saw or felt in his last moments, and over the next few weeks, most of them packed out of the lodge.
a half-assed investigation was even conducted at the time but once again I was unperturbed. I knew there was no way they could tie it back to me. finishing with Jude, I had gone back up to my room, washed my hands and sat down again to my plate of now-cold, season-less noodles. the food finished in a matter of seconds and afterwards, I took another shower and as I watched the clear water flow down my body in rivulets, I thought about what had just transpired that afternoon. once again, I pulled something like that off while evading discovery and it only helped solidify my reasoning that I did the right thing, that Ms. Rawlings was right once again in her tutorship.
"If indeed you've been diligently following my advices, then I think they have no reason to keep you locked up in here. maybe it's time you start taking control over your life, Hannah", Ms. Rawlings continued.
maybe she was right.
I looked up at the CCTV camera right above the room, wondering if the two officials were watching her. they who had dragged me into this room long ago and told me I'd rot in here for a long time. they had laughed and made fun of me, they called me all sort of names.. and ever since I've been asking myself, why? what am I doing here? I was just doing what I was told, they had no right to lock me up here. I looked up at the lady in front of me, my head was starting to hurt and my eyes were red and bloodshot from thinking too much. but I knew what she meant. I knew what she wanted me to do, why, hasn't it been her orders I've been following through all these while?
Ms. Rawlings and I had discussed pushing away bad energies from my life, and, right up to a point, I didn't know which energies were classified as "bad" in this case. well, right up to that visit from my mother three months ago.
she had dropped by my place unannounced one fateful day and in as much as I was elated to see her, I grew cautious and wary, deciding to reduce my "activities" around the compound to a minimum. before now, there had been widespread panic in our lodge as a result of several cases of unprovoked murders reportedly going on in the place. this further chased future tenants from coming for the vacant spaces as everyone was scared of being the next victim. for the ones that were desperate and took the rooms anyway, they slept with one eye open, training their eyes and ears to pick up even the slightest movements outside their doors. the pandemonium was outrageous but so was the peace that came after.
less people in the compound meant less trouble to deal with, or so I thought, before my mother came by.
it started with her occasionally disturbing questions during my sessions, with weird questions like, "who is there with you in the room? who are you talking to?"
when I explained to her that it was Ms. Rawlings and further went ahead to introduce them, she had looked at me with so much shock in her eyes and walked away silently. I didn't understand her reaction and was a little embarrassed at why she would be so rude to our guest. but I let it slide.
until two days later, she had called me to the living room, "to discuss something", she said. I had just gotten back from class and since it was the weekend, had decided to take a long nap that afternoon. having completed a lot of projects and attended every lecture set for that week, I was totally exhausted and so the nap was much needed. but mother had said the discussion was more important, and so I respectfully obliged.
mother sat too straight on the armchair, hands folded over her handbag. but she didn’t look tired, she didn’t even look angry. her steady breath and taut face looked like she was about to announce rain had been seen falling elsewhere. the afternoon light slanted through curtains and catching in the fine lines beside her eyes. she looked older than I remembered.
“Hannah, sit.”
her voice was calm and that scared me more than anything else.
I closed the door softly behind me and it's click sounded loud in the quiet living room. Ms. Rawlings sat at her usual spot on the couch, legs crossed, back perfectly straight, the faintest curl of a smile sitting on her lips. she gave me a nod as if to say you’re doing well and for a while, I felt steadied.
“yes, mommy?” I replied, smoothing my hands gently over my skirt. I did not sit. could not.
she didn't bother making me, either.
“who is Ms. Rawlings, Hannah?” her voice had trembled slightly. I laughed then, relieved then confused. was that the bone of contention?
“haba nau, mommy, she's my therapist. I told you already. why are you acting weird about it?”
“because there is nobody in that room with you.”, she heaved. the words came slowly and methodically, like dropping something fragile, bad news or maybe a bomb in this case.
“I saw you talking to a chair.”
that couldn’t be right, I thought, “don’t say rubbish, Mummy, you greeted her.”
"I was actually greeting you, but you were smiling at nothing and it really scared me.”
silence swelled between us.
I looked across to Ms. Rawlings and she said nothing.
“you’ve been talking to yourself again, Hannah.. when did this start? why didn't you tell me??”
the air around me felt thin, my eyes flickered instantly to Ms. Rawlings and then back to my mother. a confused laugh escaped me again, too fast and too strained. surely, this was a bad joke.
“w-what do you mean?”, I rasped, “but you’ve met her. and even, she's-”
I stopped talking when I saw mother’s mouth tremble slightly. in haste, she opened her bag, brought out her phone, and slid it across the table toward me.
“here.. there is no one in that video, Hannah.”
I looked down at the phone screen to see a clip of me sitting in this very living room. I saw myself talking nodding, laughing, pausing to listen, responding to and engaging with… nothing.
there was indeed no figure on the couch.
I couldn't find those pale blue eyes, nor perfect smile nor angelic voice. what was there was empty space where Ms. Rawlings now sat so neatly.
I slowly raised my head.
a joyful but unbelievable sight, Ms. Rawlings was still there, with arms folded across her breasts, head tilted to an angle, looking at me. “you see? I told you” said Ms. Rawlings while shaking her head slowly “bad energy tries to disguise itself as love.”
I felt my blood pressure rise immediately. mother was crying now but I couldn’t hear her properly anymore. all that filled my ears and all I cared about was my therapist’s calm, syrupy voice folding into my head like warm smoke. no, there's no way she's unreal! but the video..
“who are you talking to, Hannah?”, Mother demanded sharply, her voice cracking open at the edges.
I just pointed.
“Ms. Rawlings. see, she’s sitting right there, Mom. why are you pretending she isn’t?”
there is something horrifying about being looked at with both fear and pity at the same time. mother stood up so suddenly the chair legs shrieked against the tiles.
“Hannah, baby.. there is NO ONE THERE!”
her words echoed, bounced off the walls and split into several smaller versions of itself. again, I looked at Ms. Rawlings and mother followed my eyes. I found my pretty therapist still smiling at me, completely oblivious to mom's turmoils.
“I think,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly, “your mother is the problem.”
I felt a cold shiver down my spine and my skin prickled. outside, the sun out and raging but the room felt cold. “that’s not true,” I murmured, shaking my head as well, but the thought had already planted its roots.
“does she respect you?” Ms. Rawlings continued, voice like silk dragging over broken glass. “Is she not doubting you, undermining you?"
her soft voice engulfed my senses, dragging me back to that abyss again.
no.
"... embarrassing you?”
no. no.
“she wants to send you away,” she added.
I think mother was saying my name over and over again, but her voice felt so far away. she stepped closer, reaching for me as though I were a frightened child and not a grown woman with an impeccable sense of reason.
“this has gone too far,” I heard her sobbing, “Hannah, we are going to the hospital right this minute. they’re going to help you.”
help. it was such a strange word.
Ms. Rawlings stood then, gently smoothed the front of her skirt, and my eyes followed her as she walked slowly toward my mother. there was a tight politeness to her face, the calm before a storm.
“she is an anchor, Hannah” she said, “you have to cut her off.”
the world narrowed to a tunnel and my breathing turned shallow. but my heartbeat was not as frantic as I had expected. it was… measured, almost bored.
everything after that felt like a dream.
the last thing I remember seeing was mother’s shocked face and red blood blooming a twisted flower across the pale-coloured tiles.
then silence. but not for long.
they came for me in uniforms and gloves and heavy eyes and mouths that moved but their words were meaningless noise. the neighbors had informed the authorities about a disturbance. and by the time they arrived, I was very much marveled and exhausted from everything that I did not bother doing anything. I just sat there in resignation, beside Mother's body, watching as the life blood gleamed and pooled under her.
they pulled me away from the living room, from the body and the staining floor. from Ms. Rawlings, who watched it all from a corner with an approving, almost proud smile.
“you're finally learning, Hannah,” she whispered to me as they cuffed my hands.
"good job!”
It's a few months passed and the institution I was held in still smelled like bleach and piss. my small room had soft walls and no sharp corners and a single dull-white bulb that buzzed like it had an insect trapped inside it.
outside the door, about 3 guards walked around in slow, looping paths, keeping an eye on the closed door.
“you must stay focused now,” Ms. Rawlings said. it was one of our later sessions, with her seated elegantly on the edge of the narrow bed. “you know they will try to erase you here. they will try to separate us. they say they want to help you but it's all a lie, Hannah", she cooed.
I swallowed.
“I don’t want that,” I said.
“yes. yes. and you won’t let that happen,” she replied. “because you are strong, and you know how to remove what stands in your way.”
My eyes drifted to the small pair of scissors I had stolen at the laboratory the other day, during one of their tests. they said they were going to help me, but all they do is hurt me with their stupid tests and experiments. Ms. Rawlings followed my gaze and a slow smile curved her lips.
“bad energy rarely leaves on its own, Hannah. you know what to do”
that night everything changed and it was quieter than usual.
I was sitting in a crouching position in the middle of the room. waiting. soon enough, I heard footsteps approaching and knew it was one of the guards bringing dinner, as they usually did everyday. I heard bundle of keys clanking and the heavy metal door swung open abruptly. he walked in a few steps and gently out down the tray.
“Hannah! here, eat something. you’ll feel better.”, he was saying, but those words hovered in the air like an insult. he turned to leave.
Ms. Rawlings rose from her sitting position gracefully.
“now,” she said.
I suddenly found unwavering strength within me as I leaped at the unsuspecting guard, pushing the sharp edge of the scissors into the back of his neck. the details of what happened next are blurry even to me. I remember feeling warm liquid on my skin, I remember him falling to the floor. I still recall the weight of his bunch of keys in my trembling palm. I remember a series of unlocking and bolting out of doors.
alarm sounds blared through speakerphones.
it hadn't taken them long to discover the dead guard, and my absence from the cell.
once again there was chaos, blooming like a familiar flower.
Ms. Rawlings walked in quick steps beside me through the corridor, unbothered by the blood, the sirens, nor the screams behind us, nor my frantically beating heart. she never once left my side.
“you’re free now,” she kept telling me, surprisingly falling in step with me even though I was sprinting through hallways.
“no more cages. no more questions, Hannah. you're free!”
finally, the exit doors yawned open before us. outside, the night was wide and waiting, full of everything and nothing at all. momentarily, I forgot my predicament and stared up at the starless sky.
then I looked at her.
“where do I go from here? and.. and will you come with me?”
this time, she paused and my breath hitched. for the first time… uncertainty flickered in her pretty eyes.
“wherever you go,” she said carefully, “I always exist.”
"there she is!", a voice shrieked behind me.
I felt a blunt force against the back of my head and then the lights went out.
my ADHD tried. i kept drifting apart. but I took control and read every line. wow.😧
I wasn't expecting Ms Rawlings to be a hallucination.😭 This is too good!