Chapter 4: Book of Death

"Why you go think say na me hide am? One week now, I never do anything except find her—"

My voice dey break, I dey almost beg. The pain for chest dey heavy.

He raise hand, shake the notebook. "So why this one dey here?"

His eye dey hot. For Igbo family, once person dey suspect you, trust no dey again. E dey pain me.

"Wetin dey inside? I swear I never see this notebook before." I try collect am, but he no gree.

He move hand back, hold am like say na gold. I dey fear the kind wahala wey fit burst from this small book.

"You sure you no know?"

Obinna eye dey search my soul. I dey sweat, dey swear in my mind.

"If I dey lie, make thunder fire me. God see my heart, I no fit kill am."

I shout, my hand for air. For Naija, if you swear like this, you dey show true pain, but sometimes e still no dey convince people.

"No dey do all those childish swear." Obinna throw the notebook give me.

He hiss small, cross arm for chest. E dey look me like say 'I dey wait'.

I open am—just few small words dey for bottom right of the blank title page:

Book of Death.

I trace the letter with finger. The writing get small shakiness. Na Ifeoma style, but the word dey strange.

Those words just dey look me like say person dey play wicked joke.

My skin cold, the house even quiet. E get as everything dey, like say spirit dey hover.

"Na her idea, or na both of una plan am?"

Obinna voice loud, he dey suspect say na prank. My chest dey pain, I shake head.

I open first page. The way the diary dey talk, na Ifeoma style be that.

[April 18, 2024, sun dey shine like say e wan roast person.

Today, one strange thought just enter my mind: I want kill person.

But everybody around me dey treat me well—I no fit bear make any of dem die.

E be like say to kill person na wahala.]

I read am out loud. The voice in my head na Ifeoma own. I dey shake as I talk am.

The handwriting na her own, no doubt.

The way she dey form her 't', curve her 's', no mistake. My mind dey wonder, which kain wahala be this?

How Ifeoma go write something wey dey fear person like this?

She never talk anything like this before. I dey try remember if we ever gist about crime or murder. Nothing come up.

I turn back to the title page, look the ‘Book of Death’ part well. The strokes light, like say the person no sure—almost as if dem add am later.

I rub finger on top. The ink be like say e fresh, pass other part of writing. My suspicion dey grow.

But even say Ifeoma dey keep diary—I dey hear am for first time.

Na so people dey hide secrets—even for people wey dey plan marry. My chest dey heavy.

"You think say na because of this Ifeoma hide herself?" Obinna ask suddenly.

He dey rub chin, eye dey narrow like person wey dey calculate change for market. His voice low now, as if fear don catch am too. He dey hold chair like say e wan fall.

"You dey talk say she really kill person?"

My own eye wide. For Naija, if woman kill, e dey rare. But anything fit happen.

"Maybe if we read the diary finish, we go see answer."

Obinna voice dey tired. He dey hope say the book go bring closure. I dey hope too, but fear dey bite me for stomach.

He just point the notebook for my hand, make I continue to read.

As I open the next page, my hand dey shake—wetin I see fit change everything I believe about Ifeoma.