You have forgotten so soon how you escaped death. For two weeks, three days, ten hours, I stood by your hospital bed and watched life flicker from your body like flames twinkling in dry harmattan wind. Everyone thought you were going to die. I watched how your family wept by your side, your mother in particular, she was there mumbling prayers from time to time and on the day you opened your eyes, she held her Bible against her breast. That day, you had so many visitors. Magdalene came too, the same one who called you worthless. At night when they all left, you saw me but could not recognize me. I smiled and watched on.
Days passed, months came, you were getting stronger and happier away from the shelter of my charms. Your friends returned and you made new ones so I felt you have forgotten about me and I left but two days ago, you came home crying, I knew you were going to need me and you did. We spoke about your insecurities, your fears – you told me everything. I comforted you and gave you a liquid to quench your thirst but you refused because hope held you by the neck. So I brought you the rope I had always kept for you and held it to your face and pointed to the ceiling. You did not refuse this time. So you tied out two knots, one around your neck, the other around the ceiling fan. I smiled when I heard your neck snap, I got you this time. I have imagined so dearly this final moment, the sweet whispers of your last breath leaving your mouth entrapping my soul in pure delight – saying softly “I give up, you win”. I am depression, I am your death.
About the Author:
Okoi, Patrick N’kanu (patrickokoi16@gmail.