As those tears pushed open the floodgates of her eyes and rushed out to form a pathway across her cheeks, Atinuke felt the heaviness in her heart trigger the flow of an endless fountain of pain whilst she stood hopeless, starring at her reflection in that mirror. It was the second month since her perfect gentleman had perfectly shattered her strong, yet tender heart. She blurrily remembered the day he went down on one knee, looked into her eyes and placed a ring on her engagement finger.
It was almost like her soul broke through her body to dance in excitement. Damn! He was such a perfect player! How could I not have spotted the lies in his perfection? Was it a crime to feel? Or perhaps this coat of many colors called “Love” was never fashioned to fit into my skin, Atinuke thought aloud as she slipped into another flashback.
On that tragic day, Atinuke had returned earlier from work than usual. She was tired and had this banging headache so she thought going home to rest before she’d prepare dinner for her darling fiancé who’d return home later would be a great idea. Of course, Atinuke didn’t expect anyone to be at home so she headed straight for her room after opening the gate without making any noise. Atinuke flung the door of her room quickly only for her eyes to meet the man she’d walk the aisle with right in the “middle of it” with another woman on their soon to be matrimonial bed.
At that moment, Atinuke could not tell which feeling was worse; being shot by a gun, or being hung by a rope! Immediately, she jerked back to consciousness with her eyes still drowning in the pool of her own tears. Atinuke knew she couldn’t bear this anymore. She was fed up with the frustration and depression. So she braced up, wiped her tears, picked up the gun that laid beside the mirror and stepped outside. BOOM!! was the loud noise that echoed on 15th street.
A bullet to her head, her body laid in the pool of her own blood. Others may call it suicide. But to Atinuke, she knew she had redeemed herself. She just murdered the woman who was holding her back from smiling again.
This is written by Oche_Writes 2017. Photo source: Google Chrome.