Harrowed Fate

EPISODE 03: The Calvary.

Eyelids flutter and she startles awake. Her eyes dart over to the clock hanging on the wall just in her line of sight. Seven a.m.  She must have dozed off, she thought, reclining further back in her chair as she yawned. John and the Landlord had since returned, both promising to check back on them in the afternoon. She looks over to her right, where Tolu lay peacefully asleep in bed, then heaves a breath of relief. All through the early hours of the morning, as the doctors tended to Tolu, she struggled to keep her wit and strength; restless as she looked to John for support; he calmed her with reassurances and optimism, but that would not do, still, she dreaded the worst. She cringed to think of what she would become if she lost Tolu. 

And now as she examined the frail juvenile’s wrist; observing the intravenous needle attached under her skin and the blood coursing through the needle’s thin hollow tube from her end into Tolu’s veins, as she stared on, the events of the previous night flooded her thoughts and she fought arduously to hold back the tears, for she feared she might wake the reposing lass. But her resilience could not withstand the grueling images that recurred in loops in her head; she sobbed in silence.

“Knock, knock,” the soft voice called from without; quickly she wipes her eyes with her palm, looking askance at the door.
“Lola…” the voice called again, in a familiar tone as a head now pokes in from behind the door. She recognizes the guest.
“Clara… please, come in.” She managed through a faint grin, in an attempt to mask her most recent demeanor. The woman quietly makes her way in, garbed in black pantsuit and a sheening bob. Once in, she stood at the opposite end of the bed, looking over Tolu with a countenance of dismay and pity.

“Lola, how did it get to this?!” She blurted with stifled indignation. Lola gestures with her hand to suggest decorum for the sake of both children asleep. Bola, her youngest was laid on the mat beside her. She unhooks the intravenous needle from her wrist before doing same for Tolu, then proceeds to move the stand --- from which now hung an empty transfusion bag, away from reach.
“Let’s talk outside,” She muttered as she headed toward the door, her guest following behind.
“They had to do a blood transfusion?” Clara posed as they walked out.
“She had lost a lot of blood --- we share the same type…”
“How long do you want this to continue? We had agreed, he can’t keep hitting you like this?!” Look at you, Lola…look what he’s done to Tolu!” Clara fumed, once they were sat on a wooden bench just outside the ward. 

Lola’s face turned hollow as she cast a glance at Tolu from the glass window; the poor child had been through too much pain in one night than she has felt her whole life; she reasoned. Although, weak and disoriented, she remembers in truth opining to leave with the kids, days after the last abuse but she had since chosen to stay after nights of pensive conclusions.

“Clara, we’ve been friends for a while, now…you know me.” She started; her voice; soft and faint.
“Where would I go, with two children? Tolu needs to be delicately nursed back to health. Francis had lost his job, we were barely making ends meet as it were, and him taking to the bottle did not help.” She paused as if to bemoan her fate.
“And that’s my point!” Her guest interjected.
“The man is morbidly irresponsible and a raging alcoholic. I mean, he nearly killed Tolu, we might not be that lucky, next time. He’s a brazen brute!”

“Francis wasn’t always like that.” She retorted, feeling the strange urge to defend her choice of partner.
“He was gentle, kind and resolute. He would bring me books or magazines, every day when we courted; he knew how much I loved to read…I was to be a journalist” Her eyes lit up as the fondness of that memory played in her mind, a grin had unwittingly formed but was short-lived --- the sharp pain from her injured lip forcing her to quickly withdraw the attempt, that which now jolts her back to the tragedy of the current reality.
“I don’t know what to do, Clara.” She concluded in a resigned tone, tears welling up in her eyes.
“I have nowhere to go. I was so scared I was going to lose my little girl,” she muttered as her eyes freely gave way to the sobs. Clara moves closer to comfort her, so that Lola’s face rested on her shoulder as the latter cried.
“We’ll sue for domestic violence and a trial separation; that is what we’ll do, only if you agree, if for nothing, to get you and the kids to safety.” Her friend quipped.
“I have friends who deal in these cases. This won’t happen again, I assure you.” There was a momentary pause after Clara’s assertive reply but it was interrupted by the thuds of approaching footsteps.
“Stanley!” Lola gasped, as a sturdy figured stopped before them, she stands, throwing her arms around him.
“Does mom know?” She asked but he was too miffed with fury to manage a reply.
“He did this to you?! That bastard did this?!” The burly built middle-aged intruder snarled, releasing himself from the embrace to scrutinize Lola’s face.

“Where’s he?!” He barked again, his sonorous voice echoing through the hospital’s hallway, causing visitors to stare.
“Stan, please calm down, we’re in a hospital.” Clara interjected. She knew him from adolescence to be quick with temper.
“At least, go check in on your niece.” She concluded. Stanley pauses and exhales heavily, then walks inside the ward, leaving both women outside as they reeled from his outburst. He walks out barely a minute later and his face thickened with rage.
“That dog had better not come here…” he fumed.
“I told him the last time, if he ever touched you or Tolu again, it would be the last time he touches anything. I told him!” He yelled, addressing Lola and her friend as he paced with indignant strides, both women imploring him to keep his composure.

Hardly had Lola looked away from him, did she hear the upsetting noise of a brawl. It came from the bend that led to the wards just meters from the hospital entrance, she looks about her and notices Stanley was gone; quickly she and Clara rushed towards the entrance. As they got closer, Lola could hear Francis’ voice; “she’s a whore!” it echoed, followed by the sound of heavy thumps, but just as they got within a few meters to the scene, it all became silent. There were no shrilling noises, neither were there any sounds of struggles, all they had recently heard had suddenly gone mute. Nothing could have prepared Lola for what she saw next…