DEATH JUNCTION

7

"A young girl named Isabel was discovered dead yesterday at her house. The recent deaths have spurred a number of rumors, the main question being whether or not these murders were actually connected. As released by the police , using statements from families and associates of victims, it has been discovered that there are glaring patterns amongst the deaths of all the victims, meaning they are most likely being committed by a group or a person. Concerning the issue, the divisional head of police assured the residents during yesterday's briefing that he and the special task force that had been created to find this person or group of people, will not rest until justice has been served. He went further by urging residents to report any suspicious individual whether from strangers or family as no can be trusted in these perilous times. That's it for tonight and we'll see you again tomorrow."

No one can be trusted.

My mind travelled back to mummy's death, the stained windshield, the foul smell that caressed the tang of blood. My heart thudded. Disgust breathed down on me again, bathing me in the need to shower despite having showered thrice this evening already. No matter what I did I could still feel the sticky blood congealed on my knees and the paste spreading down my face like water.

I jolted out of my reverie before I walked past our grand sitting room. The tray I held cooled my palms slightly, a hot plate of jollof rice and chicken on top of it. The aroma made me feel sick in my stomach despite myself I pushed past it and walked through the halls before ascending up a wide wooden staircase. Soon I reached my step sister's door and I suddenly felt dread pile in my stomach.

It's just Jemimah.

My  body almost recoiled in knowing, any wrong move would result in a beating from both mama and worse off, her father. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I laid my hand on the door handle, balancing the tray with my other hand.

In and out.

The palpitating of my heart accompanied with the increase of my salvation reminded me that my mindless chant wouldn't work. I pushed a hand into the pocket of my apron that held the doll and squeezed it slightly.

"Worrying would never make the situation turn out better, just breathe and everything would turn out fine."

I followed mother's advice and inhaled. All it brought along was the alluring smell of the rice with the thick perfume that Jemimah usually wore, the one that Jemimah had lied that I had broken. I refused to give into the memory that wanted to bubble out of the box that stayed at the corner of my mind. Finally, I knocked.

"Who is it?" Her voice came through and I didn't like the fear that came through at the sound.

She's younger than you, you know.

That doesn't mean you have any power over her.

That's because you're a stupid little coward.

"It's me." I stilled the thoughts in my head.

"You may come in."

I don't need your permission to let myself in.

But you know you do.

Opening the door, the familiar light walls covered with pink decorations of her private living room filtered into my eyes. The heave scent of her perfume almost choked me as she sat, cross legged by the largest of the sofas that circled the glass table that shimmered underneath the chandelier.  I stood by the corner, wanting nothing more than to drop it all and leave it but I knew what that would result to.

"She almost poisoned me!" Jemimah shouted and the belt snapped at my back. I rolled away, howling in pain as mummy shouted for mama to stop.