After my submission for TNC’s competition here, I was called out for being partial to females and asked to write a story of my choosing with a female as the villain.
This is the end product, please let me know what you think
Most people live their entire lives without realizing the power we wield at the tip of our fingers, and the pleasure it can give. I still recollect the faded, grey classroom with its wobbly tables, where it all started.
Biology class was after lunch, and not long after the bell was rung, Mrs. Jaiyeola walked in with a trolley. The entire class went quiet, as she removed the cover, revealing rats for dissection. Some of the girls ran out to throw up but I was one of those who didn’t. We were called out one by one to receive the rats we had paid to examine.
As the class began our feeble attempts to reveal its inner secrets, I remembered its distant relative who kept me up last night in the boys’ quarters my mum and I currently lived in. My aunt Funmi took us in when dad brought in a new wife to replace mum because she was unable to give him a male heir. I suppose I should have been grateful that we at least had a roof over our heads. Here’s the thing, I was fifteen and in the flash of a second, we went from elite to beggars. Having to sponge off cousins you once considered beneath you does wonders to a girl’s confidence.
The sight of the congealed blood brought me back, bringing another memory to life. Not long after I resumed in this school, I started my first menstrual period in class – the school toilets are horrible so I never use them – and walked about unaware for the entire day. As a result, they started calling me Bloody T, the T coming from my name Tiwa. With each cut, I gained a measure of peace; at least this was one less rat in the world to worry about.
School ended and I walked home, I entered the compound and was greeted by one of the new pups from aunt Funmi’s dog. His siblings were huddled under their mum but he was yapping around my feet, paw raised high, not dissuaded by my shooing. Surely this was the noisy one, so I brought out my newly acquired knife and gave the pup a slight jab. It howled and retreated, I looked around and there were no heads popping out. I continued walking, and there it was again, following me to the back of the house where our rooms were.
Till today, I have no idea if it was a he or a she. I picked it up and stabbed it again and again, fascinated by the blood flowing out, seeing the faces of the girls in school as they laughed at my ill-fitting uniform, cast-offs from my cousin, never caring if I could hear them or not. It howled louder with each prick, squirming for release. In my mind’s eye, I saw them all trapped, begging for mercy. Thankfully, the distance from the house kept its noise from carrying. I pictured my father grovelling at my feet, the girls in school at my beck and call. I was in total control, and in my hands rested great power.
Reality came crashing when I heard uncle’s horn at the gate. My clothes were a bloody mess, and the pup lay in my hands weak and whimpering, barely alive. I had been so lost in my thoughts I didn’t notice when its howls quieted. I hurriedly tossed it under a pile of manure in the garden and rinsed the blood from the pavement with the watering hose.
Once I got indoors, I washed then soaked my uniform in bleach and started on my homework. Mum came in hours later, from her job as a cleaner in a bank where she was once a top customer. I overhead my uncle cautioning her, it would seem that someone had performed a sacrifice with one of the pups and no one knew why.
For the first time in months, I slept through the night.