My Sister, the Serial Killer - oyinkan braithwaite Page 0,48

mouth. “My baby!” She leans over the bed and lowers her cheek to her unconscious daughter’s mouth—to feel her breath, like she used to do sometimes when Ayoola was still a baby. When she straightens, she is crying. She stumbles into me, and I put my arms around her. Yinka excuses herself.

“Korede, what happened? Who did this?”

“She called me. I came to get her from where she was. She had the knife in her.”

“Where did you pick her up from?”

Ayoola moans and we both turn to look at her, but she is still sleeping and she quickly settles back into the task of breathing in and out.

“I’m sure Ayoola will be able to tell us both what took place when she gets up.”

“But where did you find her? Why won’t you tell me?” I wonder what Tade is doing, what he is thinking and what his next move will be. I will Ayoola to wake, so that we can agree on whatever story needs to be told. Anything but the truth.

“She was at Tade’s house…I believe he found her there, like that.”

“Tade? Was there a break-in? Could…could Tade have done it?”

“I don’t know, Mum.” I suddenly feel exhausted. “We’ll ask Ayoola when she wakes.” Mum frowns, but says nothing. All we can do now is wait.

FENCE

The hospital room is tidy, mostly because I have been setting it to rights for the past thirty minutes. The teddy bears I brought from home are arranged at the foot of the bed, according to color—yellow, brown, black. Ayoola’s phone is fully charged, so the charger has been wrapped around itself and placed in her bag—which I took the liberty of also rearranging. Her bag was a mess—used tissue, receipts, cookie crumbs, notes from Dubai and candy that had been sucked and rewrapped. I take a pen and write down the things I have thrown away, in case she asks.

“Korede?”

I pause what I’m doing and look at Ayoola, whose big bright eyes are looking at me.

“Hey…you’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Like hell.”

I stand up and fetch her a cup of water. I hold it to her lips and she drinks.

“Better?”

“A little…where’s Mum?”

“She went home to have a shower. She should be back soon.”

Ayoola nods, and then closes her eyes. She is asleep again within the minute.

The next time Ayoola wakes, she is more alert. She looks around, taking in her surroundings. I don’t believe she has ever been in a hospital room before. She never has anything worse than the common cold, and everyone close to her has died before they reached the hospital.

“It’s so boring…”

“Would you like someone to paint graffiti on the walls for you, o great one?”

“No, not graffiti… art.” I laugh, and she laughs with me. There is a knock on the door, but before we say a word, the door opens.

It’s the police. A different pair from the ones who questioned us about Femi. One of them is a woman. They make a beeline for Ayoola, and I block them.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

“We understand that she was stabbed.”

“Yes?”

“We just want to ask a few questions, find out who it was,” replies the woman, looking over my shoulder while I try to hustle them out.

“It was Tade,” says Ayoola. Just like that. It was Tade. She doesn’t pause or hesitate. They could have asked her what the weather was and she wouldn’t have sounded more relaxed. The floor is unsteady beneath me and I grab onto a chair and sit down.

“And who is this Tade?”

“He is a doctor here,” my mum adds, materializing as though from thin air. She looks at me strangely, probably trying to understand why I look like I am about to throw up. I should have talked to Ayoola as soon as she woke up the first time.

“Can you tell us what happened?”

“He proposed to me and I said I wasn’t interested and he lost it. He attacked me.”

“How did your sister get to you?”

“He left the room and I called her.” They glance at me, but they don’t ask me any questions, which is good because I doubt that I would be very coherent.

“Thank you, ma’am. We’ll be back.”

They run out, no doubt to locate Tade.

“Ayoola, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean what is she doing? That man stabbed your sister!”

Ayoola nods fervently, as outraged as our mother.

“Ayoola, listen to me. You will ruin that man’s life.”

“It’s him or me, Korede.”

“Ayoola…”

“You can’t sit on the fence forever.”

SCREEN

The next time I see Muhtar’s

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