Chapter one
I mustered the strength to persevere as I collapsed to the ground. My friend wandered off,
His voice gradually faded into the distance. I am uncertain as to where everything went awry, and now I find myself alone in the twilight of the night.
My weary eyes remained fixated on a single point. I pondered in despair,
wondering why sleep had become so elusive lately. Footsteps approached the place where I lay helplessly in my own blood.
Nature was taking its course, evident from the way my blood had thickened.
A crowd whispered my name, inquiring if I was okay, innocent souls... What happened?
They stood behind me, unaware of my dying body longing to escape this cruel world. My life flashed before my eyes,
transitioning from adulthood to infancy, and I was unable to change even a single word.
I recalled my father's wise words: "No matter what challenges you face, always find the strength to rise above."A blinding light interrupted my vision, causing everything to blur. We all have come to experience Earth,
yet my presence cannot be erased—not today and not now. That was my plea to God in a moment of prayer amid my crumbling life.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp slap across my face, and all I could hear was,
"Please… please don't do that to me!"
My vision was unclear, and it felt as though I had been in a deep sleep for a decade every time I shut my eyes. The lines on my palm seemed familiar,
and I recognized the scents surrounding me. From the sound of the horn, I could tell I was in a fast-moving car,
with the driver urging me to hold on. My sense of hearing never fails me. Then, I heard a voice filled with determination say,
"God has finally answered our prayers," as she grasped my cold hands against her belly.
I couldn't manage a smile out of disbelief because I comprehended the exciting news I had always yearned for.
The blood on her hands left me feeling numb, causing me to faint once more.
When I woke up, I felt cold and found myself staring at the floor.Unable to move a muscle, hearing my mother cry deeply affected me, striking right at my core.
She even shed a tear as she called me by my childhood name.
The realization that I held such significance for someone made me feel that while I could face death another time,
it wouldn't be today. They had asked her to wait in the waiting area,
assuring her they were doing all they could. It felt as if I wanted to rise from the wheelchair, take her hand,
and tell her it was all a misunderstanding—that I was okay.
Struggling for breath, the only emotion keeping me alive was anger. Even though I felt no pain, a strong desire for revenge consumed me.
I reminded myself that I couldn't succumb like this. After the doctor stitched my wounds,
I was sent home with the knowledge that the pharmacy was closed until the following morning—the only place where I could find help.
So, on my way home without medication and in such a vulnerable state,
my poor mother had to endure this once more. Just when I was supposed to be the one caring for her in her middle age,
I found myself feeling like a child again.As a father of two, I never anticipated this turn of events—
discovering my girlfriend was expecting on the same day I was sprawled out on the grass.
It's true what they say: during tough times, friends become scarce. It felt like I had just relocated;
everything and everyone seemed unfamiliar, although there was a sense of familiarity that lingered.
I found myself feeling lost in the chaos after losing my job while my girlfriend was two months pregnant.
It felt as though the weight of the world was resting on my shoulders.
The ride home from my former workplace was the most emotionally challenging journey I have ever experienced.
Contemplating my next steps, I spent an hour gazing out the window,
trying to piece together my narrative and figuring out how to gently inform both my mother and my child's mother about my job loss.
As the sole provider, I realized that life was about to become overwhelming.
We were managing day-to-day, just scraping by, but with my mother's support,
the situation couldn't have been any more daunting.That woman is not only a mother but also a resilient individual; remarkably, she has guided me in becoming a man.
Even now, I'm unsure how she manages it all,
but her ability to be a single parent while also serving as a father figure to three boys is truly impressive.
On January 8, 2022, an old friend of mine came to town and sought me out.
It was a Sunday afternoon, and we decided to step out for some drinks to cool down from the scorching sun.
We had plenty to catch up on since it had been a while since we last saw each other.
At the venue, I gave my friend some money to purchase our drinks while I searched for a quieter spot away from the noise and loud music to set up our chairs.
Once we found a table, I settled in and waited for my friend.
While I was busy scrolling through my phone, a random girl approached our table.
She spent a few moments shouting, but with the music being so loud,
I didn't pay much attention to her words. Eventually,
she came up to me and rudely remarked, "It's their table.
Attempting to capture everyone's attention.
There was absolutely no reason to shout, I said politely.
As I prepared to offer her a chair—after all, the table was large enough for all of us—I suddenly felt a sharp pain piercing my upper left shoulder.
I turned around and saw him standing there, knife in hand,
covered in my own flesh and blood! Fueled by rage, I charged at my assailant, with no time to ask questions as my blood splattered everywhere.
The only thing I remember clearly is the sound of an engine starting;
I'd be dishonest if I said I could recount how I got home from the hospital that day. My situation went from bad to worse,
with my mind operating on autopilot. Like a flickering light,
my thoughts came and went. One morning, I realized I had been staying with my cousin, who played a significant role in supporting me.
After three months of suffering, I was unable to talk, walk,
or even pinch myself to confirm I was still alive. It felt as if I were a lifeless doll,
forced to endure the sensation of a spoon in my stomach.…so I can experience another day.
Much like in films, death seemed imminent. Sleep became my closest companion and never let go.
Each day, I am questioned about what truly happened,
yet no one understands why I'm speaking. Gradually departing from this world,
I find myself unable to voice anything to save my spirit. I was unaware of how much burden a soldier could carry in his heart.
A strong believer in God, I'd walk on water! It was challenging to witness my mother weeping in despair every day.
Deep down, I struggled to accept the idea that my eyes didn't want to close for good.
Those familiar with cemeteries understood the atmosphere I was in. Only birds would occasionally come to visit,
highlighting the desolation of my resting place.
Neighbors were aware of my situation and knew I was too delicate for visitors. In my final moments,
I prayed while gazing at the ceiling, sensing God's presence.
Although I wasn't perfect and didn't always live a virtuous life, the creator of humanity never judged me.
As the days went by, my vision grew dimmer.My days passed in a blur,
shifting from the present to three days later, with only brief moments of regained vision.
Much of the time, I was left blind. My uncle witnessed my struggles and encouraged me to be kinder to myself.
He understood that no amount of money could make me perform even the simplest action,
like nodding in response to a yes or no question.
He would help me get out of bed, assist me in using the bathroom,
and guide me to the dining room. The troubling thought that I was putting their lives on hold weighed heavily on me.
They too had their own commitments and responsibilities,
while I struggled to even blink my eyes. I often found myself asking a profound question:
why did he have to inflict this upon me?
I wished my aggressor would provide an explanation,
even if only in my dreams at night. He seemed to have decided that my life was not worth living.
Who was he to make such a judgment about my fate?
Why couldn't he confront me directly while committing such an atrocious act?
I've wrestled with these thoughts internally for months,but the conversation feels fresh each time.
I had stitches and scars that I've never been able to see with my own eyes.
I find it hard to accept that God would create such a cruel and heartless being. Today wasn't my final encounter,
so I have the chance to face another day. They often say, 'healing is a process.'
This is easy to claim when you're not the one facing the struggle.
When I look into a mirror, I have a different perspective. While dealing with a migraine,
I was acutely aware of everything under my bed and the tiles in my room seemed enormous.
I took a moment to search for a missing piece of a puzzle.
'Sorry,' someone said. 'Please help me lift him off the floor,'
and in that moment, I found the missing piece! I've been gradually moving towards the edge of the bed,
even though I hadn't realized it. Witnessing what had just unfolded felt like my mind had traveled to an unfamiliar place.
I didn't see that coming! As they assisted me in getting up,
a soul appeared, always in the right place at the right time.
'What's happening? Where are you taking him?' My uncle said.