TITLE: The Village Girl EPISODE: 14 * What is wrong with you? Cynthia asked. My belle turning me. I think I going to toilet. Mma had been gone for a while when Cynthias eyes flitted across the table and a thought came to her mind. Perfect time -- she was almost sure she heard Vanessas voice in her mind. She held up her soup-soiled fingers still in the air for a while, mind busy with cogitation. She finally rose and walked into the room. A moment later she was back at the table. She stared at Mmas food, turning the bottle Vanessa had given in her hand. Then, with one quick sudden motion, she let a drop of the purplish content of the bottle into Mmas soup. Are you okay? Cynthia asked as Mma returned to the table. I fine now. I just using the toilet. Ok. Finish your food before it gets too cold. Mma stared at the soup as though she couldnt recognize what it was. I think I full already. I not eating again. Cynthias eyes ran up at her. You are filled? Yes. So who will now finish the food? Mma wondered if she was upset. She had never known her to concern herself with who finished or did not finish her meal. She was the perfect picky eater herself: two or three spoons of rice and a few bites at the chicken and thats it. It surprised Mma now that she was still at the table, still on a dish she wasnt familiar with. Mma shook her head. I not eating again. I rushing and eating the food before and now it tighting my belle. Oh ok. You can clear the table then. Cynthia washed her hand. Mma left with the dirty plates and she quickly poured a glass of juice and added the killer drop in it. She swirled the yellow liquid in the glass and dropped it on the table. Soon Mma was back at the table to carry the wash water. Take the juice, Cynthia said, it will help your indigestion. Thanking you, ma. Mma picked the glass and downed all of its contents in a single drink. Mma did not get to the kitchen before the feelings started. First it was prickly pain at the walls of her stomach, like the feel of tiny glass particles on soft skin. She beat her belly lightly and thought probably shed need to visit the toilet again. But the itch-like feeling metamorphosed into something else. All of a sudden, her lower abdomen began to burn. Red hot pain like burning coals on feet. She let out a scream that frightened even the perpetrator of the wicked act herself. Cynthia shuddered and ran up from the couch. The bowl of dirty water fell from Mmas grip and water splashed all over the floor. She clutched the sides of the door to maintain balance but she was on the wet floor the same minute. She felt a sudden wetness underneath her pant and soon her garment was soaked through with speedy gush of blood. She moaned and groaned, writhing this way and that in the pool of her own blood. Cynthia threw her palm to her mouth. She was shivering. She ran back to the sitting room and picked her phone. She was too hysterical and kept pressing the wrong keys. Finally, Vanessas voice came on. Oh my god, Vanessa what did you give to me? You said she was just gonna bleed slightly like a minor flow or something. What are you saying? She is on the floor in the kitchen turning in a large pool of blood. What? What do you mean by that? Are you not supposed-- Vanessa hung up. Cynthia was dumbfounded. She tried dialing her again but her number returned busy. She dropped the phone and ran back to the kitchen. Mma was now still on the floor, a great pool of blood around her like a halo. Cynthia dropped to the floor and shook Mma. No movement. There was so much blood. She tried to pull Mma up but she proved too heavy. She shook her again and started to cry. Im sorry. She sniffled. Im so sorry, sweet heart, please, wake up. Another shake. Please. Another. Please, wake up, my dear. She heard noises at the sitting room. She wiped her eyes and ran out. Richard stared at her with confusion. Hey, baby, your friend called me, what is the matter? Cynthia sniffled and wiped at her nose. Vanessa called you? Richard lowered his briefcase on the glass table. Yes, she said theres been a fight in the house and that I should hurry. Oh my god. Cynthia covered her face with one hand. Tears ran down her cheeks. Ive been a fool. Ive been such a big fool. What? Richard walked up to her. Hey, baby, what is it, stop crying. He made to hold her and she moved slightly away. Im evil. Confusion and bafflement warred on Richards face. Baby, what are you saying? Cynthias fingers moved frantically through the air. Ive killed her. What?! I killed her. She waved toward the kitchen. Richard pulled back his eyes and ran into the kitchen. His scream of Oh my god resounded through the entire space. He appeared at the sitting room burdened with Mmas limp body, blood stains all over his exquisite suit. Cynthia stared, tears steadily running down her face, ruining her make-up. Richard turned briefly to her. You are monster! He said this with near-movie theatrics. Cynthia flopped down on the floor and pulled her shirt over her mouth. Richards words, You are monster, rang in her head. Cynthia slammed her fist to the front door the second time. She tried the bell again. Nothing. She pounded the metal door again. The handle turned and someone pulled it open from inside. What do you want? Vanessas face was devoid of any sign of familiarity. Cynthia pushed her aside and walked into the room. All Ive come for is an explanation. Explanation of what? This wickedness, what is in it for you? What do you stand to achieve? Does that give you the right to barge into my house? Vanessa! Yes? You are such an ungrateful Dam. After all I did for you, you could go this far to -- Vanessa thrust an open palm forward. Hey, hush it right there! What and what did you do for me? What? You spend his money like its yours and buy me useless gifts like Im some sort of school girl to you! What? Yes, Cynthia, remember that afternoon, it was me, it was me he came for before you smiled your way into him, like youve always done! Vanessa, what are you saying? Vanessa turned to herself. I dont blame you. Hes been but your puppet. Everything would have ended that night but, oh no, he is more concerned about making sure you are ok than seeing the picture the way it is. Which night are you talking about? The night at Chiefs party. Ever wondered why you were the only one so stoned you didnt even know how you got into Chiefs room? WATCHOUT FOR EPISODE 15
Posted on: Sun, 21 Dec 2014 19:19:32 +0000
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