It could have been the cold or something else; maybe the uniqueness of the weather which was still cold. 

Was she not eating well enough? No. Was she not taking fruits like she used to OR her diet was not being fit like it should have been? 

For one reason or the other, Precious could blame the whole of eternity for how she felt that morning. 

It was 10AM already and she still found it hard to slip off her bed, scared of the rug, water. 

She knew the house would be empty by then and she would have no one to call to help. 

'Someone had better made food, someone had better swept, someone had better cleaned,' she thought. She didn't want the house looking like it had harboured no one for centuries. 

That was to elaborate a thought. She knew she would still meet the house looking like a piece of cloth attacked by a mad man. 

Her door cracked open and Tara was standing in the doorway, all dressed up and ready to hit the road. 

Precious was took weak for a lengthy conversation. It was clear with the way she moved her eyes. To her greatest surprise, Tara stood one more hour to help her get things fixed. 

The house was cleaned up already, like it would be if Precious was up early enough to stand in the position of a nagger. 


Tara got away from home, glad she could avoid the tracing eyes of her sister. 

She took public transport and her objective was to make it to town before 10:30AM.

She walked up a complex some few minutes to 11. Knowing she was late, her heart raced as she imagined the fleet of stairs she was going to scale this time around. 

She had been booking appointments with this same man for weeks now. 

Close to a month, she had been reporting at the complex at least once every week, unnoticed. 

She went in and as usual, instead of sitting in the tiny reception that was always over-crowded, she would book a space, and go to the restroom to avoid being noticed. She always had this big wig on and a headwarmer, with some part of the wig covering a certain portion of her face. 

She met the receptionist and collected a number. 

She hit the restroom, brought out her phone and forwarded a call. 

Whosoever she was calling, would make her go in without having to wait too long. 

She got out almost immediately and her number was called out of turn after five minutes. 

She walked in and the first thing that went off was the fan.  The bearded man seemed familiar with her and he was ready for a conversation. He waved her to a seat and sat on the seat opposite. A long desk separated them with books everywhere, an old laptop and a telephone. 

"What do you have for me this time? I was around to pick your last week's report," the bearded man said. 

"I was sick last week," Tara paused for a smile, "So I didn't come around," she added. 

The bearded man gave her that long seductive look and she adjusted herself in the seat. 

"I had an accident..." 

The words had the bearded man flying out of his chair. He literally curved the whole length of the table in a quick pace and was sitting opposite Tara, his hands holding her. 

"I just want him punished for killing my sister," Tara continued, tears running down her cheek and ruining her make up. 

"He took away my only sister," Tara said again. This time, her tone was harsh. 

"As long as you planted the knife well in the last scene, I am sure he won't go scot free. The police would get to him and if he escapes this, we would reframe him," the bearded guy said. He noticed the panic Tara was going through and in no time, he pulled her closer and grabbed her lower lips with his. 

He stopped all at once and checked the door. It was locked.