“Ivy! Ivy! Ivy!!! Answer me now.”

“You two faced…”

“Don’t even dare complete that statement!” I cut him short.

I stood up from my couch and looked at my childhood friend.

I knew it was him. I could recognise that voice even in the midst of 10,000 voices. Not because he was worth recognising, but because I loved the idea that I knew him more than he knew himself.

“Answer me!” he shouted, jerking me back to reality.

“Why are you yelling, fool? If your girlfriend left you again, give me the full gist. Which one is ‘Answer me’? ‘Answer me’?”

All his life, he had always been a product of heartbreak.

Poor boy…

Not him even beginning to have feelings for me.

“Dummy… I knew you were, though you think you’re hiding it well.” (I thought within myself)

“Ivyyyyyyyyyyyy! For the last time, answer my question!”

I jerked back to reality againnnn. I nearly hit myself.

Why am I even jerking off?

I swore under my breath.

“Kinniii…” I couldn’t hold back. “You haven’t even made mention of anything worth giving an answer to. Or do you think I now read minds?”

It finally dawned on me that he had been speaking even before I rose from my couch.

But what was the question initially sef?

I heard you almost dropped Mummy Bola’s baby from the stairs, thanks to Love who came at the right time.

Naso una dey do for here? I mumbled to myself.

“I was just trying to improvise, and I had no intention of actually doing that sef.”

“But you almost did!”

I sighed.

It all made sense now that I was replaying the scene in my head.

-----------------

“Ohhh myyy…”

I looked down at the beautiful baby in my arms.

“What would it feel like if I released my hands? Would it drop down dead, or would I have a quick reflex and catch it back?”

I paused.

Should I give it a try?

“Yes. No. Yes. No.”

I smiled.

“Okay, one quick tr…”

“Hi.”

A sharp tap landed on my back.

I almost jumped.

“You foooool! Be careful, I’m holding a baby.”

I turned and met Love’s sharp gaze.

“What were you thinking that made you flinch that hard?”

“I was trying to improvise.”

“Improvise what? With a baby in your hands? And don’t you think you’re too close to the edge?”

Maybe I should have tried it.

If anything happened, I’d blame her. After all, she tapped me senselessly.

I smirked.

“Ivyyyy.”

“What?”

“I’ve been calling you. You sure you’re here?”

“No, I’m not.”

She shook her head.

She was staring straight into my soul.

I shoved her a smile.

“Hmmm… improvise, you say.”

She smiled.

I smiled back.

I could tell she was studying me.

The way she stood.

The slight narrowing of her eyes.

Then she mumbled,

“Interesting. Very interesting.”

I handed the baby back to its mother.

“Ivyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

Another tap brought me back to reality.

“Whattttt?”

“I was just improvising, and did that silly Love of a girl tell you trash?”

“No! You yourself just told me trash.”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”

I folded my arms.

“I mean, they say an average person has about 60,000 thoughts a day. Some are good, some are negative. I was just exercising one of the negative ones. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Like you’ve never thought of doing something awful before.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Abeg, free me.”

I was about to make my way back to the couch when I noticed his cheek protruding.

He was pressing his tongue against it.

I knew that habit.

He did it whenever he has something Annoying to say.

I looked at him properly.

Better not burst your cheek in disguise of being angry over a baby that is not even yours.

Speak the real thing that is angering you.

Mtchewww.

He folded his arms.

“Why did you tell Love that I was in love with you?”

“Me?”

I pointed at myself.

“Tell Love what?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I responded sharply.

“That thing you do when you know exactly what you’re doing.”

I smiled.

“You mean being beautiful?”

He didn't smile.

He just stared at me.

Then he started rubbing his thumb against his palm.

There it was.

He wasn't angry.

He was nervous.

No.

He was scared.

Interesting.

“You know what your problem is?”

“What?”

“You care too much about what people think.”

He went quiet.

I smiled.

There it was.

I knew I had him.

As usual.

He took a breath.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I met your father yesterday.”

My smile remained.

For a second.

Then it disappeared.

“What did you say?”

“I met your father.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

“The same father you told me died years ago.”

Silence.

For the first time that evening, I had nothing funny to say.

Not because I was shocked.

Because he had found him.

“You lied to me.”

I shrugged.

“I told you what I wanted you to know.”

“You told me your father was dead.”

“And?”

“And he isn’t.”

“I never said he was.”

He stared at me.

“You literally told me he died.”

“I told you a story.”

“You made me believe it.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

His face changed.

“I trusted you.”

“I know.”

“You made me feel like I was one of the few people who actually knew you.”

“You were.”

“Then how could you do this?”

I went quiet.

He was waiting for an apology.

I could tell.

That was the problem with people. They always wanted guilt to accompany the truth.

“You’re not who I thought you were.”

I looked at him.

“No.”

A small smile appeared on my lips.

“I was exactly who I showed you.”

He shook his head.

“No. You weren't.”

“Then who was I?”

He couldn't answer.

I smiled.

“Exactly.”

“You knew everything about me.”

“I listened.” I replied

“You remembered every little thing.”

“I pay attention.”

“You remembered things I told you years ago.”

“People reveal more than they realise.”

“You made me feel understood.”

“I understood you.”

“You made me feel heard.”

“I heard you.”

His voice dropped.

“And you didn't care?”

I tilted my head.

“I cared.”

“Then why does none of this feel real?”

I smiled faintly.

“Because you thought understanding someone meant loving them.”

He stared at me.

I continued.

“I understand why people cry. I understand what makes them angry. I understand what makes them feel safe. I understand what makes them insecure.”

I paused.

“That doesn't mean I feel what they feel.”

He took a step back.

“You mirror people.”

“I observe them.”

“You act like them.”

“I learn them.”

“You tested me.”

I smiled.

“Eventually.”

His face hardened.

“How?”

“Boundaries.”

I watched him carefully.

“I moved one little line.”

Silence.

“Then another.”

He said nothing.

“I watched how much you tolerated before you reacted.”

His jaw tightened.

“And you enjoyed it?”

“I found it interesting.”

He shook his head.

“You’re sick.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re manipulative.”

“Maybe.”

“You're a monster.”

I smiled.

“Now you're getting closer.”

He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

Then I remembered.

“You know what I find funny?”

He said nothing.

“You forgot when you made me apologise for being weak.”

His expression changed.

“You forgot how you made me believe my existence was an inconvenience.”

“We were children.”

“Exactly.”

I chuckled.

“You were already teaching me how people work.”

He looked away.

“And now you want to question me?”

“I was wrong.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“About what?”

“About you.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“You were wrong about yourself.”

He looked at me.

“You thought you knew me.”

I smiled.

“You only knew what I allowed you to know.”

He was silent.

Then he whispered,

“You’re a dark empath.”

I smiled.

“Now it’s making sense to you, dummy.”

He looked disgusted.

“You think you're powerful because you know how to hurt people?”

“No.”

I stood up.

“I think knowing where to hurt someone is different from actually hurting them.”

He stared at me.

“But you did hurt me.”

“Yes.”

“How did you know exactly what to say?”

I looked at him.

“Surgical precision.”

He frowned.

“I knew you well enough to know exactly where to strike.”

I paused.

“And I knew exactly how hard to press.”

His eyes dropped.

“You really did all of this on purpose.”

“Not everything.”

“Then what?”

“Only what mattered.”

He swallowed.

I could see the anger building in him.

His hands tightened.

His breathing changed.

I watched.

Quietly.

He was becoming exactly what I expected him to become.

“You know,” I said softly, “every human being carries a beast.”

He looked at me.

“What are you talking about?”

“The part of you that wants to react. To hurt. To destroy. To make someone pay.”

I walked towards the window.

“The goal isn't to destroy the beast.”

“Then what?”

“Chain it.”

He frowned.

“Chain it?”

“Discipline it. Starve its impulsiveness. Teach it to wait.”

“Even when someone provokes it?”

“Especially then.”

“And if they cross the line?”

I smiled.

“Let the beast watch.”

“Watch?”

“Yes.”

I turned towards him.

“Let it smile.”

“Why?”

“Because it knows what will happen if the chain ever breaks.”

He stared at me.

“So the goal is to remove it?”

“No.”

“What then?”

I smiled.

“The goal is that it obeys.”

He shook his head.

“I hope you get the taste of your own medicine one day.”

He turned towards the door.

I didn't stop him.

He opened it.

Then looked back at me.

“You will regret this.”

I smiled.

“Not all roars are heard, fool.”

He slammed the door behind him.

The house became quiet.

I looked at the clock.

8:47 p.m.

My phone buzzed.

I looked down at the screen.

One message.

He’s on his way.

I stared at it for a moment.

Then I smiled.

I locked my phone and placed it beside me.

Some beasts don't need to be unleashed. Sometimes, they only need direction.

I leaned back into my couch.

“May your soul rest in peace.”

I chuckled.

“One more patient to attend to.”

P:S: This is not a series                                

                                 keeyra writes✍🏽