Chapter 1: When Death Knocks Twice

My younger sister’s family just get accident for road. As she dey die, na me she call, beg make I help raise her pikin. I remember when we dey small, na me she go run to when rain dey beat am. Now, na her last rain she dey face, and na my name she dey call.

As I dey swallow the pain, ready to gree, na so plenty messages—like winch whisper for night—just begin flash for my front: WhatsApp, SMS, I no even sure again. Na so the air for my room just heavy, as if cold breeze enter through my window, even though NEPA don seize light. My chest tight like eba wey no get soup—no way to swallow. I press my palm for my chest, try balance myself for chair. This kain wahala, na only person wey get strong liver fit carry am.

"Your sister dey pretend say she wan die. She dey plan make you train her pikin finish, then when the girl don big, na your house and property she go collect. Abeg, no gree."

One side of my mind dey reason, how person go dey talk this kain thing when life and death dey ground? But the message just dey ring for my ear like early morning church bell.

"Na true talk. That your niece no get gratitude—if you raise am, na you she go bite last last."

Na so people for village dey always talk say, "No dey carry another person load for head, e fit break your neck." The words just dey worry my mind.

"Eya! If you gree, na so so suffer you go suffer, die on top another person matter, reputation go scatter, your own go spoil."

Even my papa voice, the one wey I dey hear for my dream, just echo: "Person wey carry family wahala wey no belong to am, na im go chop insult pass."

"Correct! That ungrateful pikin go even accuse you say you dey molest am later, say na because of your own bad intention you adopt her."

As I dey read all these things, my hand dey shake small, like person wey cold dey catch for morning harmattan.

All those messages just freeze my body like cold water. I look up, as if I fit see the face of the person wey dey send all these messages. I rub my face, hiss, tell myself say na devil dey try confuse me.

Meanwhile, my sister voice dey shake for phone, dey beg me.

The yes wey I wan talk just change to:

"Hello? Hello? Network dey break—wetin you talk? I no dey hear you well."

My mouth dry, I force myself make voice still dey sound normal. I swallow spit, heart dey pound. I wan talk yes, but my tongue heavy, like ogbono soup for throat. My spirit just dey jump anyhow inside me.

I dey wonder if this na real life or if dem don carry me enter another person destiny.