When The Light Dims

Chapter 8: DAVID

"Don't give in to worry or anger; it only leads to trouble"
-Psalm 37:8

The rustles of leaves and the chirping of crickets could be heard as I walked past the same trees. I dragged my feet with every step I took, dreading the horror that happened that night. I walked up to the shed and placed my palms against its door. For a second, I hesitated. What would she think of me? I dismissed the thought and with a deep breath, I pushed it open.

It was empty but her rose scent lingered in the air. She always liked the scent of flowers. Tentatively, I stepped in. Everything could have gone differently. All I had to do was let her out.

"Daviddddd!"

I turned to see Sopuru in the arms of a strange man. He dragged her across the grass as she screamed my name.

"Save me!"

Her eyes filled with tears. As I dashed towards the door, it slammed shut. I pulled at its knob but it was adamant. Her screams were consumed by the night.

I got out of bed. Sweat trickled down my temples as the image of the shed resurfaced. I couldn't save her. I was useless once again. I calmed down as I recognized the white walls with the posters of Eminem. The red curtains basked in the glow of the sun as it set my room ablaze. I sat up on my bed as the heat penetrated through my pores, staring at the family portrait on my bed stand. I knocked it down, unable to keep staring into her innocent eyes. Her screams rang once again in my ears. I burrowed my fists into my bed and clenched the sheets until my knuckles turned pale.

I remembered when I was asked about Sopuru's whereabouts. I told them I didn't know. I was not lying. I had no idea where she was. She could be several feet under the earth by now.

I mentally prepared myself for my first day as a senior. I just had to survive today and everything would probably be back to normal.

Mum was snoring heavily by the dining table made out of glass when I walked into the kitchen. She had tons of paper works and posters of Sopuru piled under her arms. The room reeked of stale food. The plates in the sink were still unwashed from the past week and the garbage was filled with five-days-old trash. I made a mental reminder to clear it up when I had the time. These days, no one ever complained about undone chores.

Two months after Sopuru's disappearance and our home still lacked its colors. Elsa was in her usual spot under the dining table. It was as though the darkness that filled our home had crept up on her. Sometimes, I was sure I could hear her whimpering at nights. I drew closer to mum and tapped her lightly.

"Mummy, wake up."

She stirred from her position with confusion written all over her face. She ran her fingers through her scattered curls. "Is Sopuru back?" She yawned.

"No, she's missing." The words hurt every time I had to remind her. I was afraid she was beginning to lose her mind.

"Ooh," She said as her face squeezed up.

I moved to the fridge. As I grabbed a bottle of water behind the yoghurt, I heard dad's shoes click on the tiles as he entered the kitchen. "Nne, you're still at it again?" he asked mum in a tired tone.

When she didn't reply, he held her hands in his. "I know you're worried about her. I am too but look at you." His sad eyes swept over her face. It lacked joy and the circles under her eyes had darkened.

"Well, you're not worried enough," she spat, withdrawing her hands.

"Please, resume work. Go on with life," he pleaded.