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Red Eyes

I didn't have anything new, so here's something old.



Otito scratched her eyes for the umpteenth time. Her body was weak, and the darkness encroached in on her as her torch light slowly diminished. She had prayed and hoped that ‘they’ would bring light but to no avail. The siren had never sounded, and the heat continued its attacks on her, leaving scars of sweat dripping from her body. Her history notebook lay open in front of her, but it was hard to see the numerous words because of the darkness. She had to use the torch to follow the words.

Otito wanted to scream. Why was she actually reading? Why didn’t she just fling this book away and go to sleep? She squeezed her head in frustration. Nothing was entering; facts and figures were all jumbled up in her head, leaving no space to think without receiving the gift of a migraine, and it wasn’t only for History that she felt this way but for all the nine subjects she did. Was this what it felt like to be at war, because her body and mind felt battered as if she had gone for battle.

She looked over at the sleeping figures of her two sisters on the bed. They didn’t need to bother with this suffering, at least not yet. Otito felt sorry for them; their time was coming soon. Suddenly the torch light went off, and Otito was unsure of whether to curse life or praise the heavens. She really couldn’t do anything, so she stood up and stretched, already anticipating her soft pillow and bed.

As she made her way to the bed, the familiar siren sounded through, and the bulbs flashed with low current electricity, making the room visible in a somewhat bronze color. Otito hung her head in defeat. She turned and made for the bathroom, where she eased herself and then washed her hands and face. She looked into the mirror at her wet face and saw fatigue staring at her. She washed her face some more and felt more awake, but her red eyes still stood out in the bronze glow, giving evidence of her weariness.

She went out into the room, put on the fans, and sighed as the cool air comforted her skin. She charged her torch because she knew the electricity wouldn’t last for more than an hour. She sat back down on her chair and resumed reading, just like many of her mates scattered all over Lagos and Nigeria (and maybe even West Africa as well). WAEC started tomorrow, so for now, sleep no longer existed.

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