Tendencies———What Could’ve Been⚰️

"Hi, Tabitha. Trust you’re doing well, my sunshine? It’s Dad,Kelechi said. I was just thinking about you—how’s school? I know things have been tight lately, but I hope you’re coping. Trust me, I know you are; you’ve always been stronger than I give you credit for.Anyway, I wanted to tell you some good news: I finally got everything you asked for your birthday tomorrow. The dress, the extras—it’s all sorted. And listen, don’t you worry about the logistics or how you’re getting around; I’ve got that handled. I promised you the best birthday this year, We’re going to make this one count.And Tabitha? Don't forget to pray whenever you’ve got a quiet moment. It helps. Keep your head up, okay? See you soon."Kelechi finished the message, his smile warm, his heart light. He had no idea that the world was about to shift, that the road ahead for him and little Precious wouldn't lead to a celebration, but into a dark, suffocating silence. The next morning, the sun rose on what was supposed to be the brightest day of the year. Tabitha woke up with that fluttery, excited feeling in her chest, checking her phone every few minutes for a "we’re on our way" text. But as the hours stretched from morning into a humid, heavy afternoon, the silence in the house began to feel less like a delay and more like a warning.Then, the phone rang. It wasn't him.The voice on the other end was gravelly, detached, and utterly cold. “Your father and the child are with us,” the man said, his tone casual, as if he were discussing the weather. “If you want to see them alive, you have ten million naira. By noon. Three days.”The air left the room. Tabitha’s throat tightened, a sharp, metallic pain cutting through her—the kind of pain that tells you your life has just ended, even if your heart is still beating. Then, a sharp crack echoed through the line—a gunshot—and the call died.She stood there in the crushing stillness, the reality of it all blanking out her vision. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She could only imagine the terrifying void of a future where her father and her sister didn’t exist. The ransom was paid the following day, a desperate, soul-crushing scramble. The coordinates led her to a patch of bush on the outskirts of town. When she arrived, the air smelled of dust and fear.She found them. Kelechi was slumped against a concrete block, his shirt stained deep, dark red. Precious was curled beside him, her eyes wide, staring at nothing, completely catatonic.Tabitha didn’t think; she moved on instinct, screaming for help as they were rushed to the hospital. But the chaos of the emergency room, the shouting, the sterile smell of antiseptic—it was all a blur. The doctors’ faces, drawn and tired, said it all before the words left their mouths. Too late.Hours later, sitting on the cold floor of the hospital hallway, the shock finally cracked. She looked at her own hands, still stained with his blood. She started shaking, a deep, bone-rattling tremor she couldn't control."It’s my birthday," she whispered, the irony tasting like ash in her mouth. "I did this. If I hadn't asked for anything... if I hadn't made him come out..."Then, a small, shaky voice broke the silence. Precious. She hadn’t said a word since they found her."It’s not you, Tabitha," Precious whispered, her voice thin and hollow. "It’s not you. It’s this place. It’s the people who decide we don't deserve to live. It’s the government, the roads, the fear... it’s everything." She paused, her small hands clenching into fists. "Papa said to pray. Even now. He said the tongue has power."Tabitha looked at her little sister—so small, yet carrying the weight of a world that had just broken them both. The anger, the blame, the desperate need to find a reason why—it all just… stalled."God knows best," Tabitha murmured, a final, fragile surrender to the life that could have been.The birthday that was supposed to be the "best" had become a permanent anchor, a day she’d spend the rest of her life trying to forget.…………..Curtain’s Draw……………….

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