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Baby on a Revenge Mission

Baby on a revenge is deep narration of a betrayal and revenge. sometimes revenge seems impossible when you're dead but this story shows there are other ways to a revenge

How do you plan a revenge? why decide to go on revenge mission? Baby on a revenge is deep narration of a betrayal and revenge. sometimes revenge seems impossible when you’re dead but this story shows there are other ways to a revenge.

Baby on a Revenge Mission

I heard the scramble of multiple feet running in different directions as the sound gunshots filled the air. I thrashed, as raw, brutal fear clutched at me.
Then, I felt the anger! Hot, fast boiling rage. I was overcome by a huge sense of deja Vu. My body began to shake. I could smell the smoke. It was blinding me, choking me, my lungs felt too tight. I began to cough and wheeze. I sprang up, grabbed my inhaler and began taking long, deep breaths as I ran to the window, half expecting to see fire. There was nothing.
My hostel room
was dimly lit. My roommates sat on their beds, staring at me.
I wiped my face and saw that I was drenched in sweat again.
“Sorry” I muttered under my breath as I left the room and walked into the cool air outside. I didn’t need to check the time. It was a little after 1am. I knew.
I have had the same dream for as long as I can remember. It was always the same. The fear, the anger, the sense of choking, the loss of air, de javu…
My mum told me that as a baby, I used to wake up around the same time, screaming, throwing my tiny fists in the air as I tangled up my sheets. My asthma was discovered quite early, but it never explained why I woke up at the same time, struggling to breathe
When I finally grew old enough to put my emotions into words, I told my mum everything, and that, began one of the worst chapters of my life.
Mum took me from herbalists to men of God. I was forced to drink different concoctions of horrible tastes from several sources, all in a bid to cure my nightly drama.
Once, I was taken to a group of women who would commence flogging me all over with brooms once the dream began. They said I was a witch, and my witch mates wanted to scare me back into their midst. Till today, I still have the marks all over my breasts and thighs.
Another sick experience I won’t forget in a hurry is my meeting with a particular man of God. The fraud had asked my mum to drop me off for a 3 day intensive fasting and prayers. He was a well known man. Mum thought her prayers had been answered.
As soon as she left, he explained to me the progress of demon possession. He said I had a demon in me. The demon had come in through my mouth, and gone downwards. He had to bless the path of progress of the demon if I wanted liberation. I was to keep my eyes and mouth shut as he blessed me.
I was assailed with shock when his mouth ceased prayers and descended on the point of demon entry… my lips!
His hands then progressed into my blouse, rubbing over my budding breasts. It was when his hands began to rove downwards, past my navel that my head cleared and my body slammed into action. I sunk my teeth into his lips until they drew blood, simultaneously kicking his balls. I knew I had delivered brutal blows when he shrieked in pain.

I found my way home the next day and lied to my mum that I’d been delivered. I knew my mum would not put an end to my sufferings until I could prove my liberation. From that day, I began to do everything in my power to ensure I did not sleep until after 1am, when the danger hour had passed.
Once in a while however, when I still managed to sleep off, I tried to control myself, to stop the screaming from the terrors in my dream. I would chant over and over in my head.
“It’s not real, it’s not real” till I succeed in shoving myself out of the dream. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Whatever the case, my mum stopped taking me from pillar to post.

I was so immersed in my memories, I didn’t notice the puddle of water in front of the stairs until I stepped into it and slipped. I screamed as I tumbled down. I was trying to break the fall with my hands when my head slammed into something, and everywhere went white.

That was when I remembered!

Dele had had gone out of town to see his sick mother the previous day. I was alone in the house. A package had arrived in the evening.
As the shadows began to lengthen, I grew uneasy. Something kept pushing me to open the package. I never touched Dele’s things. My mum had taught us that a man’s privacy was to be respected. Women were supposed to submit totally to men. Somehow something made me ignore my home training. I opened up the package. It contained Dele’s passport and other travel documents.
How could Dele plan to travel without my knowledge while we lived under the same roof??? It as when I saw Cynthia’s name leaping at me that my head began to whirr.
Dele and Cynthia??!!!

My husband was married to, and planning to leave me and run off with my best friend??? After sweet talking me into put his name on all my property, he had access to my bank accounts and everything else I could lay claim to, and he was going to leave me all alone, with nothing to my name!
All the stupid things I had done to show him I truly loved him began to run through my mind.
The trip to the legal adviser who had advised me to write my will rushed into my mind. Of course, I willed everything to him. The lawyer must have been his partner in crime.
Was I dumb?
How could I make such stupid
sacrifices for love??

That night, I made the greatest mistake of my life. I called Dele. Called him to curse him, to tell him his plan would never work, to tell him I was going to the police as soon as day breaks.
What betrayal!
Cynthia, my childhood friend! Of all women!
I had cried myself to sleep in the sitting room. I could not call my mum or my sisters. They never liked Dele. I had gone to court to solidify our marriage, against all odds. Cynthia had been my only rock of support. I never knew she was also rocking my husband.
That night, the men struck. They came with guns. People had scampered away from the bar facing our house when they heard the noise. It was the gunshots and the sound of feet that woke me. They broke into the compound. I didn’t need to know who sent them.
I could hear their tough, drug roughened voice. They said my life had been paid for.
I felt the fear first, the fear of dying, followed by the anger. I was going to die, and people would console Dele. They would console Cynthia too. They would never know the truth. I rushed to my phone. I had to reveal the secret before I died. They had to be punished! It was with great anger that I smashed the phone against the wall when I realized that it was already dead!
There was no exit. There were guys at every entrance to the house. I heard as fire caught my house, feeding on the fuel they had sprayed all over.
The smoke got me first. As I choked, I told myself over and over that Dele had not seen the last of me. It was the last thought in my head as life was squeezed out of my body. I was coming back. I’d kill Dele, I’d kill Cynthia. That was my mission in the world.
I opened my eyes.
My mother sat in front of me. My new mother. Her eyes were red rimmed. I shook my head. This woman was nothing but a vessel to being me back to finish a mission. I wondered what my mother was thinking right now, what she was doing. My real mother….. if she was still alive.

© Tiwalade Jumai Soladoye-Adewole

Baby on a Revenge Mission

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