Femi woke up earlier than usual and left for the police station. He was disappointed as he couldn’t see his father yet. It was too early in the morning. He went straight to work to face his query.
Just like he expected, he was summoned by the manager. He sighed deeply on getting to the manager’s office.
“I’m not here for any ritual. I’m here for something different,” the man said in his calm voice. His thick voice had to be censored so as not to pass the wrong message. His son, the direct opposite in that aspect, had no trouble trying to sound calm.
“Stop pretending Step-daddy. I’ve talked to your son. You can take me away,” Bimbo insisted.
Bimbo opened her eyes quickly. The knock came rapidly again. Bimbo was already up on her feet. Her hands now seemed to have a mind of their own – they vibrated seriously.
“If this man gets in here, he’s not going to kill only me, he’ll do the same to you. Do you have anyone that can help us? Maybe your parents, I mean, your mum, or maybe someone else? Your pastor maybe?” Bimbo asked frantically.
“Who are you? Why are you here? Are you the one he sent to kill me?” Bimbo asked, teary-eyed.
“No, Bimbo.” The Holy Spirit sent me here. Even I don’t understand why I’m here.”
With no more questions and answers from either of them, Sandra had to leave. The burden had been shared and halved. Sandra walked sadly to the church to join her parents with a lot of questions on her mind. She now had a reason to go to church.
Bimbo sat in the same position till she remembered that her saviour was sitting on the table. Memory card 3 would be a good antidote for the day’s emotional breakdown. On pressing play, and setting it to the lowest volume, she lay on the bed. The playlist promised deep sleep and that was what it did.
“Sister Bimbo,” he called, before realizing that he didn’t know what appropriate prefix to add to her name.
“Sister Bimbo,” he called again. He placed his ear on the door to listen to whatever she had to say. All he heard was the loud song.
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