THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS (The Tale of Amara Osayande).

Photo credit; Shirts and giggles.

Edited by; @theunusual_writer.

Being a murderer came with a whole different feeling. It wasn't remorse, guilt, or fear; it was a fierce hunger for blood and a thirst for raw, undiluted power—the hunger to possess.

Amara Osayande Briggs, a spoilt brat that her parents had gotten tired of and disowned, was picked up at her secondary school by her aunt, Ifeoma, who failed woefully in training her. Smart and witty Amara It was once rumored that she had a mental disorder as she was always coming up with various delusional thoughts and theories. Expelled from four secondary schools, Amara wriggled her way through all of this mess and eventually graduated with a first-class degree in fashion designing. She has this needle of hers that she always carried about; that was her secret weapon in case she was attacked. Hmmm, so weird. Amara had had the worst relationship experiences, but she couldn't live without them; she always wanted to love and be loved, to be distracted from the immeasurable depth of loneliness that had dug a well in her heart. She loved the extra attention, the constant calls, texts, gifts, outings, pictures, and stares. She loved everything, and for as long as she was going to be around, she needed to taste every bit of it, one better than the other. She had just been served an appetizing plate of bread, eggs, and hot tea on Christmas Day. Everyone was tired of her, her incessant complaints and nagging, her overbearing clinginess, and her lies, but the honest truth is that she just needed to be cared for, and sometimes that consumes her to the extent that she would always go the extra mile to get it. It was like a beast inside her, constantly growling and craving more flesh—more and more of it. Amidst the hustle and bustle of Lagos streets on one of the busiest days of the year, Amara was seated at Mama Peju's bar, staring at the Christmas lights and decorations. a place she would never step her two tires on, but she needed noise and mischief at the time.She desired to inhale the sweet aromas of palm wine and goat meat, as well as the harsh odors of cigarettes, and most importantly, she desired to feel so out of place. Tunde's soothing voice was the only thing that rung in her ears at that moment; he was usually calculative with his words, and he always knew the right words to say at the right time. He curtailed all her excesses, and it was such a pity that he got tired and couldn't stay long enough. She wouldn't change as long as she kept reassuring him. It was never going to happen. Bloodshot eyes, smeared mascara on the face, and dry lips.Her heart was shattered to pieces, and an extra portion of loneliness was the last thing she needed. She noticed a fat, dark man staring at her from a distance. Her face was probably a terror to him. He was sitting with a couple of men. He looked nothing like what she'd ever want, she thought he was going to walk up to her and request for her number but then, sooner than later, he got up and walked out of the bar. Ouch! He didn't approach her. And as he walked, his hands dangled like a pendulum beside him, and she was greeted with the sight of a big, protruding belly. It wasn't like the ones those chiefs in those stories you read had; it was more like he was pregnant with a thousand babies. And Amara laughed so hard. Enough comedy for the night. I She sat still for a while as she reminisced on all the good times she shared with Tunde as tears poured down in torrents. One shot of vodka after another, and everything began to get blurry. She was hurting so bad, she thought everything was going to go her way this time. She thought he was going to be her last attempt at love, but no. Amara might be messed up and psycho, but she loved Tunde, and she loved him very much. This wasn't one of the many lies that spew out of my mouth effortlessly. And then, just then, she was consumed with anger; questions from different sides of the wall began to creep into her mind. How dare he even break up with me? How could he break up with the almighty Amara? Why couldn't he tolerate me? Why was he always judging me and placing all my errors like cards on the table? Why couldn't he love me regardless of who I was? "Why was he always complaining about everything I do?" "I am basically the best person anyone could ever ask for." She whispered under her breath. She stayed there for a while, thought for so long, got angry with Tunde, and blamed him for being so insensitive and annoying. She picked up her car key angrily and left the bar. She murmured incoherent words as she drove home; her vision was starting to get really blurry, and before you could say "Jack Robinson," she almost ran into a little girl who was crossing the road, but the little girl was fast enough. Thank Goodness. "Ahhhhhhhh". Amara screamed as she stopped the car. Fear gripped her like never before, and she panted heavily. After a few hours of waiting, she slurringly turned on the ignition and drove home like a snail. She got out of the car, staggering, as she slumped on the couch and dozed off. In her sleep, Amara saw something that scared her. She found herself in a cold dark room filled with blood that reached up to her knees. The room stunk so badly and everything was pitch black. As she thought of how she found herself here, her phone suddenly rang, it was tucked in the back pocket of the three-quarter jeans she wore. She hastily brought it out and froze when she saw the Caller ID. Murder. Murder?????? Murder was calling her, Who was it?. She slowly clicked on answer awaiting a voice. "Hello??". When she didn't hear any voices, she said "I know you are hurt and broken, but I'll tell you just how to fix it." He had a deep bass voice. "How—how?" "I really want to get over this pain." Amara stuttered in desperation. "There's a knife behind you; take it and leave through the white door." A light bulb went off as soon as the voice said it. Amara, with tears brimming in her eyes, spotted the knife, walked towards it, and picked it up, smoothing her fingers against it. She slowly walked out of the back door and shut it.

She did answer the call. The day after Christmas wasn't usually busy; those who were getting back to work were getting back to work, and everyone was going about their daily activities. The left-overs were eaten for breakfast. No food is supposed to be wasted, especially in this failing economy. Amara took a bath as she dressed up in red. She sat in front of her vanity as she ran a blazing red lipstick over her plump lips. She got into her car and drove to Tunde's house. So many thoughts were running through her head. Was she going to use the knife? Will Tunde even accept her?Will he chase her away? Will she meet another woman lying on his bed? Amara got to Tunde's estate, got to his house, and knocked lightly. Tunde, on hearing a knock on the door, peered through the spy hole and hissed loudly. Amara kept on knocking until Tunde opened the door. "Yes? How can I help you? "What do you want?" Tunde spoke rudely. "Ummm...eh, Tunde, good morning." Amara spoke calmly. "What exactly is it?" And you can't believe this. Amara broke down in tears—real tears. "I'm sorry, Tunde." She whispered amid the tears. After a few minutes, Tunde hissed and let her in. She took a seat on the couch. "You look good." She said "That's only because you are no longer in my life." He said, "Why are you here?" "I came to talk things out, Tunde; there's a lot." "Please, Amara, I'm not ready to talk things out with you. "I don't want you anymore." "Please Tunde! "You can just end things like this." And immediately Tunde stood up, vomiting all the things he had kept in. "Amara. "I gave up everything for you; you cost me my happiness, my job, and my life wasn't normal with you in it.He went on and on and on about everything. And before you knew it, a heated argument had begun. One person blames the other. Amara, in tears, ran to the kitchen and broke the cupboard where the alcohol that Tunde had hidden from her was. She took out one bottle, opened it, and gulped it down. She drank until she was drunk, and Tunde yanked the bottle from her grasp when she began to slur.She launched at Tunde and pushed him onto the couch, forcing her lips on his. This was total madness. Tunde thought. He struggled to get her off him, and in anger, Amara bit his neck as she cursed him and started crying. Part of his skin was stuck between her teeth, and blood flowed one drop at a time. "Leave me alone!" "Amara, you have caused me so much pain." Tunde screamed loudly, with pain and terror in his voice. Neighbors who heard couldn't come in; the curtains were down. It was his time, perhaps. "All I ever did was love you, and I expected you to love me too, but all you did was judge, judge, judge, and judge me." Amara groaned as she pulled the knife out from under the expensive pencil skirt she wore. She stabbed him on every side as Tunde begged, crying and groaning. He was innocent; he had tried his very best. She tortured him before she finally drove the knife into his chest. "Burn in hell," she said. rigidly. She took the blood-covered knife and wrote on the floor. "Rest in peace." Amara walked to the guest bathroom just near the living room and washed herself thoroughly. She took her bag and left stealthily through the back door when the feeling eluded her. It felt like she was seeing her again for the first time. "What am I doing?" She whispered to herself. She walked back to the house and met Tunde in a pool of his own blood. "Nooooooooohhhhhhh". Amara screamed as the incident flashed before her very eyes. Hey, I'll answer your questions. Couldn't he pry her off? I mean, he was a man. Tunde was a lanky ajebo that survived on vegetables. How can he push such a beastly girl? He tried anyway. Opening the door was his mistake, perhaps.

Merry Christmas!!!! 🌲

Thank you so much for reading

I love you.

©2022. ASINDI WENDY. All rights reserved.