72

I hurry into class, cold and exhausted. When I walk into martial arts, training has started, but Elder Mdu, is hunched over his desk, searching through a pile of pages. Teenagers are still whispering among themselves, giggling softly.
I stand in my usual spot in the back, facing the window and hug my old sweater tighter around me, my hands are trembling and numb with frost.
“Ya playing?” Mondo asks coming toward me. She's following behind Luleka.
I give a curt nod. “Fine.”
“Sure?” Luleka asks, “Coz ya look kinda not okay to me.”
Mondo hugs me briefly. “Tell us about the Shadows, we hearing that ya seen and fought them.”
I shrug.
“Better ya then I. If I seen a Shadow, I don't know what I'd do. But I know I wouldn't risking my whole lives.”
Luleka bursts with laughter. The sound tearing out of her like a gunshot. “Whole lives? Girl, kanti how many lives do ya have?”
Mondo rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
They both laugh, turn to me for a reaction. I can't bring myself to even smile. They stop immediately, concerned.
Luleka studies my face carefully. “Ya absolutely positive everything is fine?”
“I said I'm fine didn't I?” I scream at them. The whole room turns to stare. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”
“Let's going,” Mondo says, linking his arm with Luleka. “She is very mooding today.”
I know I should apologise but I just watch them leave, the hurt in their eyes tearing my heart apart.
Elder Mdu calls the class to order then and passes pages around, martial arts theory.
The rest of my classes pass without special incident. It seems impossible, but the icy winds outside only get worse as the day drags on.
I don't go back for lunch. D'ziko will worry but...but for some reason I can't leave this building until I absolutely have to. Whatever that means.
I am particularly agitated in self-defense, the last class before training is over. I try to convince myself it is because I am starving. But I know better. It has a lot more to do with the dreaded thought of the important dream I can't seem to recall, than the vicious growling of my stomach — these are embarrassing — I try to be nonchalant about it, to make it look like they aren't coming from me but I don't think I fool the class.
As soon as the shrill of the bell sounds, I swallow my heart, which seems lodged firmly in my throat and take flight.
The class I've been dreading is finally here. I am scared to see Papa, but for some reason I have to see him. It's a compulsion. I walk into African Herbs — almost spilling into the room — and stand in my usual spot, waiting for him. The other trainees fill in at a snail's pace and as time passes, I realise Papa isn't at training at all. As the hour drags I grow more nervous.
The minute training is over, I am running.
I have a hunch, premonition if ya will, that Mama is in trouble. It is like a sixth sense.
I don’t stop even when I ran into the janitor; he sings a string of profanities behind me. I don’t look behind. In the hallway, a few people I share classes with bid me farewell and I barely acknowledged them, racing home.
Outside, I slow to a fast walk, there are three people by the door and I shove roughly past them, mumbling a low apology when they glare at me.
As I round the corner of the training yard D'ziko's carriage (the same carriage he got me home in last night) backs out of its parking space. It looks new, and stands out from the crowd of easily affordable carriages.
I wave my hands, hysterically. “Hey wait... stop!” I call, running behind the carriage. It stops, and I slow to a fast walk, exhausted.
I jump in, breathless.
“Relax, I wasn't going to leave ya behind,” D'ziko says. He frowns at me.
I'm not worried about people seeing him, the carriage windows offer no view from the outside.
“Sorry,” I mumble between heavy breathing.
He cocks his head to the side and looks at me like I am a difficult maths equation.
"What?"
He shakes his head. "It's nothing."
My head throbs hot. I sit very still in my seat, a chilly tingle of panic working its way up my spine. The dread in my stomach is heavy and hard, like the statue of Liberty.
“Imani, are ya okay?” D'ziko is worried now, his eyes glancing frantically at me through the rear-view mirror and then back at the road.
“Can ya drive faster?” I ask.
“Any faster, then I’ll be way over the speed limit,” he complains. “I don’t need attention brought to this carriage.”
“I need to get to my old house.”
“Why?”
“Please, D'ziko, please.”
“Fine,” He grumbles.
It is a long, agonising ride.
D'ziko is silent for a moment after he parks near my driveway, then says; “I'll see ya later?”
"I'll come over once I'm done helping mama here. I'm sure she's getting some herbs."
I swallow and turn away, my eyes stinging. D’ziko takes my hand and squeezes it. His eyes narrow suspiciously. "I can come in with ya if ya want."
For some reason I can't look at him. After what seems like an eternity I shake my head. "No, it's okay. I love ya." I finally turn to look at him and inhale sharply. "I'll see ya later."
"My stomach shouldn't have tightened so painfully when ya looked at me," he says.
I force my myself to roll my eyes. "Ugh, c'mon I'm sure ya're overreacting."
I kiss his cheek and hold him to me for a minute. "I'd invite ya in but ya know the risks, Carzo would... We can't risk him seeing ya here."
"It's still doesn't feel right to leave ya and I don't know why." His voice is steady but I hear the uncertainty in it.
I grab the door handle, my hands are trembling. The sky rumbles and my breath catches. A storm is coming. Outside the shelter of the carriage, the wind is bitter against my exposed skin. I stumble to a stop at the sidewalk and D'ziko takes a deep breath, turns his carriage around and gallops across the road.
It is silent, too quiet, once D'ziko’s horses gallop down the street and out of earshot. Dread creeps up on me as my eyes land on the wooden door.
There's nothing to worry about.
The door complains when I push through it. My heart lunches to my throat, and I gulp. How haven't I noticed how much noise the door makes?
The foyer is dirty, shadowy. Machines I don't recognise line the walls. The walls are cream white, and the floor is uncarpeted and the room smells oddly of purifiers. What had happened in just a few months?
Don't panic. Don't panic.
The windows have its curtains shut and from the three doors that are within sight, two are closed and the other is ajar with light creeping through the open space.
Muffled screams echo through the walls. The sound is coming from the lit room.
I can't move at first though; my arms and legs are shaking, and for a moment I forget how to put one foot in front of the other.
A sound, something crushing against the floor... maybe, makes me jump. Suddenly, it feels like the walls are living, breathing things that are plotting against me. The shadows are demons intent on haunting me. I take each step with caution, afraid that something out of the ordinary might spring from the shadows. The screams stop just as I walk into the narrow office, leaving a ringing in my ears.
The office houses a desk and a chest of drawers in the north wall. It is dark, empty.
There now, nothing to be afraid of. See? ya were being paranoid again.
And then suddenly the lights flicker on.
I stagger a step back in surprise, stumbling in panic, my eyes frantically searching for the looming danger. I realize I am not alone at all. There is a woman, bloody, beaten, something about her looks familiar but it is hard to tell through the dried black blood and the gag in her mouth.
There is something more pressing. Something that intensifies the fear attacking me. Something a lot more sinister. It is the shadow of a man. Not my imaginary demons but a man in the flesh, breathing the same air as me.
Shouldn't I be relieved that I won't face the shapeless shadows alone? That there is a man that can terrify the imaginary demons away?
Yet I only feel surprise... and shock... and most gripping of all... fear.
There he stands, still as a statue in front of me, studying me with his head cocked to the side. His eyes amused.
It is Papa.
I can't swallow the sudden lump in my throat. Instead, I stare back, and then he frowns, his eyes puzzled as though he can't fathom something.
He shakes his head and shrugs. His demeanour casual, relaxed.
"At the sound of my fingers snapping, ya'll be fully awake." His voice is commanding, low.