#StoryTuesday:Suicide Note [Page Seven]

Few weeks ago we began a new story on our #StoryTuesday series. The story is titled 'Suicide Note' and new episodes will be published on Tuesdays. Suicide Note will be written in pages (episodes) and here is the link to Page Six in case you missed it. Continue reading page seven below

There are slaps and there is that slap I received from that bros, mehn my brain reset, I am not sure I have ever receive any beating like that again. I literally lost a tooth and I had to lie to aunt Florence that I injured myself playing football, I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth, how could I?, knowing what awaits me if I do, that was the last time I ever went to 5th avenue. 

Okay if you are reading this, let me quickly say this, everything you have been reading is because my therapist believes that writing down what I have gone through will help me move forward in terms of dealing with it. I met my therapist few months after I left Festac and I have to say meeting her has been a blessing so far, she has done a good job making sure I get myself together. I remember when I met her, my life was really messed up, I was sleeping under different bridges, eating from different dumpsite and at times na market I go go steal wetin to chop. 


Na wetin I wan chop I go steal for market the day I met my therapist, I thought I had successfully stolen bread off this woman's kiosk only for me to hear the daughter of the woman shouting “ole ole ole" and before I knew what's up market people began to chase me, I am a lazy runner but that doesn't stop me from running and like always I was caught. You know what they say about stealing in the market, sharp sharp, tyre was already hanging around my neck and I could feel the taste of petrol in my mouth, the jungle justice was about to be carried out. 

'Please please stop it, stop it, make una no kill am', these were the first sets of words I heard my therapist say. She literally saved my life that day or let me say she has being saving my life since that day. She took me to her house, changed my clothes then she fixed me something to eat. From the way I was eating she could tell I was very much hungry that she didn't even ask, she just went to get me more rice, after eating she then asked me what my name was. From the market till the moment I finished eating she didn't say a word aside asking if I was okay as we left the market. 


I told her my name is Benson Afolabi Richard, lied to her about where I stay but told her the truth about everything else. I have to say at first I thought this woman was using jazz because I haven't been that free with anyone in my life the way I was with her in terms of speaking. Even aunt Florence that thought me how to speak, I only spoke with her when necessary but with her, from the moment she asked for my name, I just opened my mouth like tap water and I started talking. 

It took me a while to understand that therapists have way of making you talk, though I have to say that's one hell of job, how can you just sit down and listen to people talk and complain all day, I would have been dead if I have to listen to my problem. When I told my therapist what I had gone through and what I am going through, she was fascinated, she couldn't believe how I was still able to put it together, she told me that at the point when we met I was going through depression (at first I thought that was like common disease) and also mentioned that based on what I have told her, that this will be the second time, she said she is afraid that if I continue this way I might not be able to make it to my next birthday. 


Well I have tried, I have come a long way since then, soon enough I will be eighteen though the guarantee that I will live to see that day is slim, I have done something very bad and it has to do with my father, the same father I told you abandoned me and my mum. The world is a small place they say and humans are like water we don't know which direction we might flow to tomorrow, well my father and I flowed to the same direction two years after I left Festac, funny thing the man didn't even recognize me. 

Growing up, watching how my mother's life fell apart, I have always had this thought in my head about what I will do to my father if I ever get the chance to see him, there he was this very day, walked into the fast food where I work, place an order and he didn't even recognize me. As I saw him walk up to me to place his order, I started to remember everything he did to us while growing up and everything my mum had been through since he left and I wanted to do right there was to just ask him why, why did he have to leave us?, why didn't he even bother to check on me?, why was he so relieved after the death of my twin?. 


I got my answers eventually but it wasn't in the way you would have expected.