CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
Beautiful Girl
The nursery glowed with warmth.
Soft golden sunlight spilled through white curtains, dancing across pale-yellow walls painted with tiny stars and clouds. A wooden crib stood in the corner, draped with a delicate mobile that turned lazily overhead. Stuffed animals sat neatly on shelves.
Everything was perfect.
I stood in the center of the room, gently arranging tiny clothes. I picked up one of the onesies, a warm smile spreading across my face as I imagined my baby in it. As if sensing my mood, I felt a sharp kick in my lower belly, and a huge chuckle escaped my lips.
Then I was rewarded with another kick, and another. This baby was kicking the hell out of me, but I couldn't quite describe the joy I felt at experiencing it again.
“You are alive,” I said as tears rolled down my cheeks, accompanied by more chuckles. “My stubborn baby girl is alive.”
I placed my hand on my belly and moved slowly around the nursery, humming happily.
Close your eyes
Have no fear
The monster's gone
He's on the run
And your daddy's here
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful girl
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful girl
Then my body jerked, and pain shot through me. I gasped as I felt something warm slide down my leg. Thinking my water had broken, I looked down.
Blood!
A single drop hit the soft white carpet.
Then another.
And another.
“No,” I whispered.
Within seconds, red flowers bloomed across the floor, and soon more blood poured between my legs.
Dark.
Thick.
“Alice!” I cried out. “Alice!”
I frantically covered my belly in an effort to protect my baby.
“No. No. Please, no.”
I stumbled backward as I watched the carpet greedily drink up what remained of my daughter.
“Please, please, not again,” I wept, still clutching my stomach. I had to save my daughter. I had to save her.
So I stood and ran out of the nursery.
I rushed downstairs and entered the dining room, where I found Alice and the Clouder family.
“Bewaji!” they called out, their expressions furrowed with concern.
“What is it?” Alice asked as she hurried toward me.
“My baby. Save her. She is dying,” I cried.
“What baby?” Isa asked.
“My baby…”
Then I looked down and saw that I was clutching my flat belly.
“What?”
I looked at the people staring at me.
“No. She was right here. I was protecting her in my belly,” I yelled.
“Bewaji.” Alice moved closer and gently took my hands. “There is no baby.”
“No, Alice... that's not possible. She was right here, inside me.”
“There is no baby, Bewaji,” she repeated sternly. “Because you killed her.”
“What?”
I stared at her in shock.
What was she talking about?
“You killed her, remember?”
Then she glared at me.
“You are a murderer. A killer. That's what you are.”
“No.”
“You are a murderer!” the others shouted.
The room twisted around me.
The walls stretched impossibly high.
The ceiling disappeared into darkness.
The window panes began knocking violently against one another.
“No, no, no...” I cried. “Stop saying that. I love my baby.”
“BEWAJI!” a voice hollered.
“No. Save her. Bring her back to me,” I kept saying.
“BEWAJI, PLEASE WAKE UP!”
I felt my body being shaken.
Hard.
Desperate.
“BEWAJI!”
The voice called again, and my eyes flew open.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
The nursery.
The blood.
My baby.
Alice's accusations.
Everything lingered around me like a suffocating fog.
When I could finally breathe, it came in ragged, labored gasps. I sat upright with a strangled cry and immediately grabbed my stomach.
Flat.
Empty.
The realization struck with the force of a freight train.
A broken sob tore from my throat.
“No...”
Tears spilled down my cheeks as my trembling hands roamed over the surgical scar beneath my nightgown.
Gone.
She was still gone.
“Bewaji.”
A pair of warm, strong hands cupped my face and turned it toward a pair of eyes widened with worry.
Marcus.
The bedside lamp cast a soft glow over his features, revealing the agony etched into every line of his face.
“You were dreaming.”
I stared at him, trying to catch my breath as my body shook violently. Tears flowed freely, and I watched panic spread across his face.
“Hey. You're okay.” He pulled me into his arms.
“You're safe. I promise you.”
I don't deserve to be safe.
So I pulled away from him and hurried into the bathroom. A strangled wail lodged in my throat. I covered my mouth with trembling fingers to trap it and leaned heavily against the wall. My legs gave out beneath me, and I crumpled to the floor, my body shaking with silent sobs as tears streamed down my face.
Tears are for the victim.
I killed my baby.
I am the murderer here.
I don't deserve to cry.
I had a baby.
A daughter.
I was going to show her the world.
Raise her to be a strong woman.
But she died.
All that blood...
She must have suffered.
My poor baby.
I failed her.
Where did I go wrong?
I never should have gone through the back door.
I never should have entered that house.
I never should have called Frances.
I should have stayed at home like Alice wanted.
I should have taken better care of my body...
I heard a knock and looked toward the door.
“Bewaji!” Marcus called from the other side.
“Come in.”
I rose to my feet as the door opened. He smiled at me when he entered.
“Are you okay?” he asked and I nodded.
“Alright. Lunch will be ready in ten minutes. Please come to the dining room.”
“I don't feel like eating,” I told him.
He nodded and moved closer to me.
“I don't know what is going on with you,” he began, “and I'm not going to pressure you to tell me. But while you're here, I need you to eat.”
“I know, but right now I just don't—”
“It has been two days,” he cut in sharply. “You have been in my house for two days, and you've spent most of that time sleeping without eating anything. Please come and eat, and afterward you can go back to sleep.”
It was best to listen to him because I didn't have anywhere else to go.
“I'll be there soon,” I agreed.
He nodded and left.
“Are nightmares part of postpartum depression?” I heard Marcus ask as I was about to enter the dining room.
I stopped.
“So, you think she has postpartum depression?” Joy's voice came through Marcus's phone.
I peered into the dining room and saw my friend setting the table. He sighed deeply.
“The signs are there. Dark circles beneath her eyes, weight loss, trembling hands, slumped shoulders. It's like she's lost her confidence. And she's here with me instead of the husband she loves. She's completely withdrawn.”
“So because of that, you think she has PPD?” Joy asked.
“My brother's wife went through it after her first child. The signs are similar, but with Bewaji, I think it's more severe. The light is completely gone from her eyes. It's like Bewaji is locked away somewhere inside herself. I'm worried.”
“Well, if she's having nightmares, then you're right to be worried and that means she needs help—not you.”
“But she came to me. She probably needs a safe space to heal, and I can provide that.”
“Marcus, she just had a baby and abandoned her baby. That means she needs professional help. You can't handle that.”
“I know. But first she has to want help. The Bewaji in my house right now seems to have given up. I need her to know she's safe, and until she feels safe enough to seek help, I'll provide her with love and support. Moreover, the baby is not the only one at stake here; Bewaji needs to be healthy to be able to take proper care of her child.”
“Marcus, she is not your responsibility. You can—”
“Goodbye, Joy.” He ended the call.
He wants to help me. But I don't deserve to be helped. When he finds out that I killed my baby, he'll understand that I need to be punished.
I entered the dining room and he lighten up when he saw me.
"The chef made your favorite" he announced as I I sat down to eat. I looked into his eager face
Don't worry, Marcus.
Soon, you will realise that I can't be saved
TO BE CONTINUED ON NEXT SATURDAY, 9.00PM WAT.
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