Lashes fluttered open and close against her skin. They felt anything but soft. They were hard and dry and could be nothing but tears. It was all a dream.
She tried to sit up straight but there was this loud and fast beeping. Her hands shot up to her head writhing in pain from the noise. A nurse rushed in and called outside through the open door to no one in particular. "She's awake." Hope laid still as the minutest movement felt like being hit with hammer right on the head.
"Where am I?" she asked foolishly as if she did not know the answer.
The nurse smiled and Hope felt so small, so tiny, helpless even. "Relax." She spoke softly. "you're in the hospital. In safe hands."
Hope watched as her shoulders slumped in the wretched reality that after all, it wasn't a dream.
YOU ARE READING
Justice, Law and The City
ChickLitThe African version of ''The Hate You Give.'' The story reminisces police brutality in Nigeria. It captures our pains, loss and the disgusting evidence that lady Justitia has remained without a blindfold for most part of history. I write for everyon...
