Blood was all over me, my hands and legs, clothing included were covered in it. Sweat was dripping from down my forehead and stinging my eyes as it ran past my sparse eyebrow into my eyes. Head pounding and heart racing, I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my windpipe was constricting, either that or there was no air, what had happened?
I looked down and saw myself staring into the empty eyes of my younger brother. He was just there, sprawled before me covered in blood. I looked at my own hands covered with blood that could only be his and let my eyes wander back to his empty eyes. I thought I’d be happy but I felt empty and disgusted. I’d hated him growing up. He was the favored one, the child that could do no wrong, the light of the family. And me? I barely even existed.
Growing up, mother tried to convince me she had no favorites but I was no fool. It was clear who her favorite was. The bigger piece of meat, which as the senior was/is my birthright, the better wardrobe, better gifts, could she really have been anymore obvious? Looking down now at the lifeless body sprawled before me I couldn’t help but think, “maybe it was my fault”. My fault? Yes. See, I’m hard to love and distance myself from love whenever I feel even its slightest touch. I have a lot to say but never really say anything leaving me always moody and weirdly quiet. I get angry too easily and absolutely detest aloofness even in little children, which is to be expected of them, and end up scaring others away. I’d rather spend a day with my thoughts and music than with family. So yes, it probably was my fault.
I looked over the body once more trying to figure out where I made the hole that caused so much bleeding, of no use but just staring was eating me up, but couldn’t seem to find any. His white shirt was soaked in blood, trousers too. The blood even pooling around him. I stretched to touch his body but moved back, I just couldn’t do it. Looking round I tried to imagine how I had done it but my memory evaded me. The chairs were neatly arranged, pictures in place, tables neatly aligned, not even a strand of hair out of place in the room, so how? What exactly had happened here?
Anger. It had to be it. I felt its evil smile from within me where it lay gloating. I blamed my anger for this. Having a mind of it’s own, my anger was a force to be reckoned with. It always just lay there, simmering beneath the surface. It’d lure me into a false sense of security and when I assumed I was now in control, its master, it’d strike. No warning. I’d be laughing one minute and the next? Hell’s flames would be waning due to my temper. It was my own heavy burden, my cross and looking at my dead brother sprawled lifeless on the floor, I’d failed to carry it.
What could have made me so angry? To slay in cold blood my own blood brother? To bleed him dry like this? I had no idea. My anger followed no logic of man so I couldn’t even begin to think of a reason I did that. However, is there really any justifiable reason? A reason soo sound and strong enough that it let’s you slay your own flesh and blood? A reason so solid that it’d make you feel it was alright to take the life of your own brother?
I looked down again into his face and the emptiness and disgust overwhelmed me. I broke down in tears. I let the tears flow cause they were all I had left now. He was gone now and all I had were my tears. I moved my hand to wipe my tears as they began to hinder my vision and the sight of his blood on my hands made the tears flow even faster. I dropped my hands, there was no point. Why was I even crying? I was meant to be happy, right? I mean, I wanted this. Why now did it feel so wrong?
I turned my head towards the door, I heard something. I kept my eyes fixed at the door and my ears open. I heard it again. It was low but I could hear it. The whirring of a ceiling fan. I kept listening and heard it grow louder and all of a sudden a gust wind flew in through the door. I raised my hands to my eyes to prevent the strong rush of air from getting into my eyes. I opened my eyes and behold there I lay gazing at my ceiling with the fan at full speed. NEPA had brought light.
“Chiedu! Chiedu!!”, I screamed jumping off my bed and running out of my room. “What?!”, I heard back with the usual venom in his voice. I dropped to the ground and muttered a silent prayer. Who knew there’d be a time I’d be glad to hear his voice? Oh well, at least he’s alive. “I better go and warm the okro and make eba now there’s light”, I thought to myself as I headed towards the kitchen.