PHASE: ORIGIN “You will die. Does that scare you?” The words make their way to my ears, but I’m not moved. “Nothing scares me.” The words aren’t mine, they never are. I laugh, the words brittle, dark, and filled with malice. My fingers shake, my body a temple of bad dreams. “You can’t save anyone.” “I know. I was never a messiah.” My body is riddled with shocks, but I don’t dare move, not while my body is held hostage. Not while my eyes dart from side to side, searching for something—anything. “This is your end.” “I know.” And the world is consumed in flames. My body jerks, once, twice, and the feeling subsides. “FIRE!!” A voice pierces my subconscious, and I stare at my surroundings with hazy eyes, watching my house burn to the ground, with me in the middle. Child apocalypse. The fire rages unchecked, a doll staring at me, half face unrecognizable, its button eyes melted and its raggedy mouth housing a smirk. I grab a poker and pierce it through its head, watching as my childhood loses its hold on me. The smoke is blinding, but freeing. I cough, going on one knee. The panic outside feels different, but out of view, out of mind. Chaos is beautiful, it reveals the best and worst of us. “Is anyone inside? Person dey here?” a flurry of activities just right outside the door, but I’m unmoved, my eyes blurry with tears. They hit the door repeatedly, and it caves, spilling forth a bunch of men wielding flashlights and wearing gas masks. “It’s him! Na him start the fire!” I hear the words, but there’s no interest in where it’s coming from. The lighter and gasoline are a stone's throw from where I am, and the men look at me, the concern etched on their faces morphing into disgust and something resembling fear. Their looks tell me all I need to know, I stand in the middle of everything I’d ever known and hold my hands outstretched. I know what’s coming, I’ve seen it, more times than I can count. “Won’t you play a requiem for your childhood? This is the last time.” The voice speaks, full of mirth and a sickening sense of pleasure. “I don’t care anymore. You’re firefighters, right? Take me away.” I don’t have time for theatrics, my masterpiece and life’s work is being devoured in one fell swoop. The moon hangs low in the sky, a pretty backdrop against the brutality I’ve experienced. “Take me away. And throw the key.” ~~ I’ve finally gotten a reputation, not one I expected. The system here doesn’t know what to do with me, their rehab centers are abysmal at best, and their cruelty is like a pat on the back. When you’ve faced hell, an inferno is just a lick of flame. They call me names, and the newest one is Ogbanje. I’ve been flogged, stoned, starved, and left for dead. But they’re not cruel enough, they don’t know what true cruelty is. My father left me when I was a child, and my mother followed after, chasing after a man who had his head stuck in the clouds. I had to survive, that’s when the voices began. At first, they were innocent, almost harmless, like a child’s prodding. Constantly pushing me to try new things, to daredevil my way into sanity. “Is this enough?” “No. Again.” So many Agains, I lost track. Hey, world. You will remember me. PHASE: METAMORPHOSIS They fear me, they fear what I represent. I do not die, I know they’ve tried. They’ve thought of legitimate ways to kill me, but my body refuses to give up the ghost, my soul clings for dear life. There are no roads here, just paths that diverge into nowhere. The people stare with sightless eyes, hope a luxury they daren’t consider. “Una no go commot for here. Make una bromance continue o.” The warden spits as he passes my cell, and it’s no longer business as usual. I am over 18 now, and my crime of arson remains a felony. I’m no longer protected by the system, the one I always hated. “You can break out of here if you wish. Why you sef still dey here?” a big burly man with a thick Edo accent speaks, and I shrug. I remember my welcome party, and how hard it was to win their admiration. But that’s all in the past, I’m not who I was. “There’s nothing waiting for me out there. I have you guys.” I say, more honest than I’d have wished. “Abeg no do o, we know say you no send anybody.” They jostle and laugh, but I barely spare a perfunctory smile. They’re my family, this ragtag bunch of evildoers, and they’re not redeemable. Just like me. We play games daily, but they know the truth; while they wait for a miracle, I create miracles. “Wetin Soji do you? You waste am.” They keep speaking, but nothing gets past me. They’re not my goal, they’re not within sight. I’m the one the wardens avoid, dubbed the most brutal inmate in a long time. Only, I do not fight with my fists, but my words have led a few to suicide. I was moved to Kirikiri earlier than planned because the therapist responsible for me tried to commit suicide. The voices haven’t stopped, but I don’t want them to. My house was set afire, my dreams going up in smoke. I am the Messiah. And I’m coming to save you. Just like all the others. PHASE: ORIGIN PHASE: ORIGIN “You will die. Does that scare you?” The words make their way to my ears, but I’m not moved. “Nothing scares me.” The words aren’t mine, they never are. I laugh, the words brittle, dark, and filled with malice. My fingers shake, my body a temple of bad dreams. “You can’t save anyone.” “I know. I was never a messiah.” My body is riddled with shocks, but I don’t dare move, not while my body is held hostage. Not while my eyes dart from side to side, searching for something—anything. “This is your end.” “I know.” And the world is consumed in flames. My body jerks, once, twice, and the feeling subsides. “FIRE!!” A voice pierces my subconscious, and I stare at my surroundings with hazy eyes, watching my house burn to the ground, with me in the middle. Child apocalypse. Child apocalypse. The fire rages unchecked, a doll staring at me, half face unrecognizable, its button eyes melted and its raggedy mouth housing a smirk. I grab a poker and pierce it through its head, watching as my childhood loses its hold on me. The smoke is blinding, but freeing. I cough, going on one knee. The panic outside feels different, but out of view, out of mind. Chaos is beautiful, it reveals the best and worst of us. Chaos is beautiful, it reveals the best and worst of us. “Is anyone inside? Person dey here?” a flurry of activities just right outside the door, but I’m unmoved, my eyes blurry with tears. They hit the door repeatedly, and it caves, spilling forth a bunch of men wielding flashlights and wearing gas masks. “It’s him! Na him start the fire!” I hear the words, but there’s no interest in where it’s coming from. The lighter and gasoline are a stone's throw from where I am, and the men look at me, the concern etched on their faces morphing into disgust and something resembling fear. Their looks tell me all I need to know, I stand in the middle of everything I’d ever known and hold my hands outstretched. I know what’s coming, I’ve seen it, more times than I can count. “Won’t you play a requiem for your childhood? This is the last time.” The voice speaks, full of mirth and a sickening sense of pleasure. “I don’t care anymore. You’re firefighters, right? Take me away.” I don’t have time for theatrics, my masterpiece and life’s work is being devoured in one fell swoop. The moon hangs low in the sky, a pretty backdrop against the brutality I’ve experienced. “Take me away. And throw the key.” ~~ ~~ I’ve finally gotten a reputation, not one I expected. The system here doesn’t know what to do with me, their rehab centers are abysmal at best, and their cruelty is like a pat on the back. When you’ve faced hell, an inferno is just a lick of flame. They call me names, and the newest one is Ogbanje. I’ve been flogged, stoned, starved, and left for dead. But they’re not cruel enough, they don’t know what true cruelty is. Ogbanje. My father left me when I was a child, and my mother followed after, chasing after a man who had his head stuck in the clouds. I had to survive, that’s when the voices began. At first, they were innocent, almost harmless, like a child’s prodding. Constantly pushing me to try new things, to daredevil my way into sanity. “Is this enough?” “No. Again.” So many Agains , I lost track. Hey, world. You will remember me. Agains PHASE: METAMORPHOSIS PHASE: METAMORPHOSIS They fear me, they fear what I represent. I do not die, I know they’ve tried. They’ve thought of legitimate ways to kill me, but my body refuses to give up the ghost, my soul clings for dear life. There are no roads here, just paths that diverge into nowhere. The people stare with sightless eyes, hope a luxury they daren’t consider. “Una no go commot for here. Make una bromance continue o.” The warden spits as he passes my cell, and it’s no longer business as usual. I am over 18 now, and my crime of arson remains a felony. I’m no longer protected by the system, the one I always hated. “You can break out of here if you wish. Why you sef still dey here?” a big burly man with a thick Edo accent speaks, and I shrug. I remember my welcome party, and how hard it was to win their admiration. But that’s all in the past, I’m not who I was. “There’s nothing waiting for me out there. I have you guys.” I say, more honest than I’d have wished. “Abeg no do o, we know say you no send anybody.” They jostle and laugh, but I barely spare a perfunctory smile. They’re my family, this ragtag bunch of evildoers, and they’re not redeemable. Just like me. We play games daily, but they know the truth; while they wait for a miracle, I create miracles. “Wetin Soji do you? You waste am.” They keep speaking, but nothing gets past me. They’re not my goal, they’re not within sight. I’m the one the wardens avoid, dubbed the most brutal inmate in a long time. Only, I do not fight with my fists, but my words have led a few to suicide. I was moved to Kirikiri earlier than planned because the therapist responsible for me tried to commit suicide. Kirikiri The voices haven’t stopped, but I don’t want them to. My house was set afire, my dreams going up in smoke. I am the Messiah. And I’m coming to save you. Just like all the others.
