Birds With Broken Wings

22* Home Is A Four Lettered-Word.

Let's see what goes on in David's home, shall we?

And please, take it easy on David in the first part of this chapter. He's drunk and as he said, he does and says the craziest thing when he's drunk.

And we all know that he loves Dunni, more than words can even explain.

DAVID

The whole house was eerily quiet when I walked in the next morning.

By house, I meant Senator Doyle's house.

Or better constructed, my Dad's house.

I stepped into the enormous sitting room and the first thing my eyes sought out, like always was the big family picture that took up almost half of the left wall just like always, I felt those feelings I was used to feeling anytime I saw that family picture.

The feeling of being unwanted.

Of being a pest.

A weed.

Something that shouldn't be but was.

Something that deserved to be gotten rid of.

Because no matter how hard I stared at the picture of smiling faces, flying agbada, huge caps, and enormous Angeles the people in the framed picture stared at each other as if they literally have stars in their eyes with postures and demeanor that screamed happiness, that screamed a very happy family, I just couldn't find myself in the picture.

Because I didn't belong there.

Because I didn't belong to that happy family.

I never have and I definitely never would.

That has been clear from day one.

I heaved a sigh and I forced myself to tear my eyes off by a source of torment which was practically an impossible task because everything in this house, the whole of the house was a huge source of torment for me.

The other framed pictures of kids growing up, the pictures of them receiving awards in schools, their height graffiti at the side of the sitting room that was marked with colorful markers, and basically just everything in this house was more than enough proof that I would never be enough.

That I'd always be inadequate.

I breathed out deeply, hard rocks slamming against the insides of my head and my heart squeezing painfully in my chest as if someone was stabbing and twisting a knife in it.

This place called home was my least favorite place to be. Ever since I could escape in 100l, I've always steered clear of coming here unless it was absolutely necessary. While other students were always excited to go home during holidays, I always stayed back even if it meant I'd be the only one in the whole of Zik Hall because being completely alone in that big hostel where I found hear nothing but echoes of my thoughts was totally better than coming here.

Then coming home.

But now, I was here because I couldn't go back to the hostel. After all, I couldn't bring myself to face Wale after the events of last night.

The events of last night...

God! I ran my left hand through my hair, and felt a sharp and instant pain in my face which was the aftermath of what happened last night as I started to climb up the stairs that led to the rooms.

I'd vowed within myself not and never to say that out loud, to take it to my grave but there had been something so self-righteous about how she had answered the 'Have you ever cheated?' question, about how she had flared up and insisted I was the one that wasn't interested in keeping the relationship, about how she had insisted that I was the one who had never prioritized our relationship enough.