Must Read: The Devil Who Loved Me By Foxyflow…Part 12

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The Devil Who Loved Me By Foxyflow…Part 12

The days that followed in the school was totally sober. Lots of girls stayed back in their hostels and refused coming outside once it is past 6:00pm. Stories started flying around about how the girl had foreseen her death and had told her room mate about it. Tales about how she had stayed in her room all day but took her bath towards evening.
I wasn’t in the least bit part of the rumours. The only thing I felt throughout that period was guilt. Amara had excommunicated me. The only time I saw her was during classes and she was quick to leave immediately after each class. I had tried stopping her on countless occasions but she snubbed me. The last one had drawn attention because of her outburst.
“Justice… Stay away from me. I hate you!!!”
There I was, right in front of the cafeteria with my arms outstretched and a pleading face. Her face was a mask of rage. Maybe she felt the same guilt. Maybe she blamed me for the girl’s death too. Amara ran away.
I was weak. My legs did not move. I just stood watching her retreating shadow with people dropping one input or the other.
“I only see this in movies.”
“So Romeo and Juliet dey this school.”
“Na wa oh. Hundred level and you dey play this kind love. Your GPA turn to credit wey no fit flash now you go begin blame one innocent winch for your village.”
“I no fit beg girl like this oh. I rather kill myself.”
The last statement caught my attention. The world had been unfair to me from the beginning. Even though my mother had tried to make it up, the constant calls, visits and cash I wasn’t using in my account still felt like nothing to me. I had come to love Amara, body, soul and spirit. The moments we had spent together. The long strolls in the night around the school. The group reading and most especially, her tender voice as she sang songs to me. Would I be able to forget her good heart?
I thought about all these as I made my way towards my hostel. I had barely entered my room when Wilson my room mate started talking.
“Justice, I will not pretend that I don’t feel what you are going through. You come back to this room these days with a gloomy face. Since Dotun was killed you’ve been like this. See, what has happened has happened. You cannot bring her back moreover you don’t even know her.”
I looked at Wilson in his red shorts and Arsenal jersey. He had not shaved his beards for some days and his eyes were bloodshot. He had probably eaten beans and cannabis sativa (igbo) again.
“Wilson, tell me something, if you find yourself in a situation where saving someone’s would cost you your life and that of someone you love, would you still go ahead and act as a superhero?”
Wilson was quiet for some time staring at me. Maybe trying to decode something. He had left where he stood as I sat on the bed and moved to a corner of our room. Pulling the single plastic chair that we both interchange during assignments, he sat down.
“That is a tricky question. It would have seemed like a good thing if you had saved the girl but that would have put you and your girlfriend in harms way. The action you had taken was the best. Do not whip a dead horse but if there is a way you can correct what happened, go ahead and do that. If there isn’t then shake the guilt off you.”
I never mentioned a girl, the example I gave did not include me. Sociologists are crazy people. I knew he wanted me to argue with him about his assertion but I kept quiet. I had gotten the answer to what I wanted. If I had failed to help, then perhaps I could bring the culprits to justice.
I started whistling as I got dressed, ready to hit the town of Lafia for the first time since I was admitted into Federal University Lafia.
***************************
I sat in the conference room looking at the faces of the other staffs. From my boss who occupied the head of the table to Abigail, a lawyer by training who was appointed to serve as the legal adviser to our organization. She was looking extremely beautiful that morning. Fair, a little pink lipstick and her hair pulled back in a bun. Mr. Fadeyi was also there, he was the company’s accountant. He hardly smiled and his breath was always laboured. Maybe his potbelly and his extremely wide nose that complemented his black face caused his nasal cavity to experience extreme pressure.
Blessing was also there. Afro, silver necklace on her neck and eyes that carried warmth. She was the marketer and sounds so convincing that our boss, Mr. Job had told her that she could convince Eskimos to buy ice. We had eaten lunch together a couple of times but that was where it ended. Maybe I respected her enough not to push my luck into getting all cozy with her.
I cleared my throat and tapped my nails on the table. The AC made breathing a wonderful exercise. The cool air going straight into ones lungs and coming out warm. We were waiting for Mr. Fadeyi to give us the turn out of the first quarter. Mr. Fadeyi after spreading his file in front of him cleared his throat a couple of times, tipped his glasses that balanced uncomfortably on his huge nose and stared into the white sheet in front of him.
“Well, we have done great so far. I have three uncleared cheques that would amount to two hundred and fifty million naira. All in all, let’s say the first quarter had reeked in six hundred and twenty million naira when all expenditures are subtracted. I wouldn’t want to bore you with those calculations but know that if we decide to buy a land and develop our office complex, furnish it and employ staffs, pay them a year’s salary upfront, we would still have money to go for vacations.”
This drew laughter from all of us. Mr. Fadeyi is known to exaggerate a lot. I looked over at my boss and he winked at me. He was obviously happy. Who wouldn’t be when he had Bonnie and Clyde in Blessing and I?
“Ladies and gentlemen, I say we eat lunch together. Payment is on me. Sheraton it is.”
And the meeting came to a close. Abigail had been stealing glances at me.

To be Continued

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