A clique they were; filled with rancor. Day in and out, they sought respite in bottles of beer and laughter of mockery and conquest, relaying accounts of hurt and failed love. Today, Eve had a special tale. She spoke as if to cry yet sounded impressively evil. Seven years gone, seven good years from sticking right through college when he had nothing safe for some faded jeans and stripped long sleeves with armpits mapped from overuse to becoming voltron when her friends spoke ill of him. In past years, Evelyn was pretty and petite but in her words “he had sucked her dry”  her beauty waned,  her once radiant skin looked pale and strained. Then, she was the desire of men, turning heads as she walked but now the only eyes rolling were her mother’s reminding her she was thirty one.
Admist tears and lamentations, she recounted endless pregnancy terminations and postponed marital rites, Months back, he had called her mother and promised to come with his people and like the typical pride, Evelyn had bragged to the world yet he cancelled again. She wondered if she wasn’t attractive anymore, if she had added a few pounds or had a dropping jaw. She snooped around his pockets and his phones to understand. Then she found out, she found out what, rather “who” was stopping him, in her words, “a slut, a cheap pregnant slut”. The man she loved and turned down advances for had cheated and his man-thief was with child. Evelyn stopped speaking for a while and began to cry and they let her.

“I was really hurt, so hurt, so at dusk I hid his phone and held a knife to his jugular as he slept” she continued, He was awoken by the cold blade, silent pleas escaped his lips as he made hand gestures as if in prayer. Over him she spoke incessantly; an overwhelming combination of regret, betrayal and pain. He spoke of his love, he was sorry, willing to make amends, if only he lived beyond now. In one clean slit, his flesh bled but she missed her target, he guided the blade with his bleeding arm and took to his heels, barging into anything in his path.

For the second time, Shola stripped, laid on her back with knees folded and thighs astride, again, Aranga went on both knees, and with a finger pushed in some of his “mericin” into her orfice. She was to wait for hours and then it would all be over. She felt relief but yet feared death; she had heard stories and had lost friends too.
She couldn’t risk the anticipated contractions giving her away, so she laid in a room at Sandra’s and waited impatiently, minutes became hours and hours, a day, yet nothing. Now it was certain, she was ruined… her phone snoozed, it was her husband, definitely him she thought, she had been out for the night and had forgot to tell a lie, reluctantly she reached for it, cooked up a quick lie and took the call, on the other end was a man screaming her name and asking how she was doing, it sounded familiar,very familiar, just who she needed to share a burden with…Ernest.