MSC (Rewritten)♡•~

CHAPTER THREE: When I Sleep

The bed was soft and comforting when I climbed into it that night. The covers were thick and warm, which was necessary as the night was a cold one.

I sighed. It had been a long day. While unpacking, I couldn't help but feel like I was in another daydream of mine, as I often used to make up worlds in my mind where I had a different life, lived with different people, and knew what freedom tasted like.

Freedom tasted unreal. It was...different. It was also very, very sweet.

I was grateful for it.

However, despite the fact that I had left the small world Uncle Philip had created for me, in that secluded house at the end of the street, I still missed the small pieces of Ghana that I was able to know. The same people I had known for years always walked through the streets, and I would watch from the side of the house, as they went about their daily lives.

The builders who had been constructing a house just up the road. They had been there for a long time, and I always used to admire their hard work, labouring in the baking sun every day, and so I made sure to greet them when I passed by.

The jollof rice seller, whom I had secretly learnt the jollof recipe from, by going there early in the morning when Uncle Philip was still asleep, and watching her cook from behind a stool. I'm sure she knew I spied on her, but pretended not to.

I missed the dusty red soil on the sidewalks of the tarred roads.

I missed the smell of fried and grilled foods that were being displayed at the stalls along the pavements, and the shouts of the women cooking them, often gossiping among themselves about the others in the neighbourhood.

But most of all, I missed Auntie Gifty. I wondered if she was happy now. She wasn't with Uncle Philip anymore, and now I had finally left him too. I wondered if she would've come with us if she was still alive.

I would have loved for her to experience the happiness I was feeling right now. We had both been secluded for so long in that place.

I turned onto my side, as my thoughts drifted to the large blue house with the white roof. I thought about the last time I had seen it after I packed my things, and left the now empty property.

It was one of the few modern buildings in that area, with Uncle Philip being a highly respected member of society with his ownership of a famous drinks company.

If it wasn't for the dark and sinister memories that stained that place, I would have seen that house the same way other people did; the flashy property of the big business man, Mr Philip Mensah and his late housewife Madam Gifty, and the place the big people often came to visit.

And so I was relieved to leave it behind.

I curled myself into a tight ball. My life with Uncle Philip was no more...but why did I feel this strange emptiness inside me that made me feel like something was missing?

Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. I sat up quickly, as it creaked open. "Come," The voice demanded from outside.

My eyes widened. That voice...It couldn't be.

"Jemimah. Get over here, now". The deep growl of the dreaded sound came from the crack in the door.

"Uncle..."? I stammered, not wanting to believe who was in front of me. My breath hitched, as the door creaked open, and my Uncle's large, broad figure stepped into my once comfortable and warm bedroom. Now the place felt like a cold prison cell, with Uncle Philip standing in the only entrance of escape.