A few days later and my rolls of tissue are still new. Normally about this time of the month I feel a different type of pain, followed by bleeding. Have I outgrown this? Or has the good Lord cured me of my monthly sickness? These questions kept going through my head for two days as the vomiting did not stop.

At this point, the Aunty with the ‘Shinny bra’ had moved to the room beside me. For the first time, she approaches me and stares at me, for 20mins non-stop. I fear for my life as I had seen 3 able bodied men try to subdue her only a few hours ago, ‘hello’ she says as she smiles pointing to my stomach.

‘She is a witch’ I whispered to myself. How could she have known my stomach was hurting just as I was about to turn around she shouts, ‘Boy or Girl’? ‘What’? I asked. She responded ‘are you having a Boy or Girl’? There and then, I realised those special nights with Rosco had taken its toll on me. I am pregnant! Where would the baby stay? Would the baby feed from this same dirty plate?

She moved over to comfort me as she saw confusion on my face. The warmth of her touch and well rounded breasts could only give me temporary succor. It was at this point I started reeling out my secret affair with Rosco inclusive of all the gory details. As my sickness intensified she started to care for me going to fetch my beloved indomie and eggs as well as other meals.

As I became weaker, I could not make it to the spot where Rosco and I meet. An effort to force myself out there one night gave me the shock of my life. Rosco had moved on to ‘Shinny Bra’. She seemed to have been enjoying what rightfully belonged to me. They even seemed to be doing all we never did. ‘So that’s where she had been getting all those N500 notes’, I thought. I guess |Rosco had not only moved on, but onto someone he liked and enjoyed better.

It’s this jealousy that has driven me to this spot; ‘Shinny bra’ is lying on my lap dead due to the rat poison I fed her with as she returned from her rendovous with Rosco. I had picked it off the body dumped off a few weeks back. I’m in more pain than I had had in a while; I see blood dripping down my thighs. I can’t call for help for myself as my neigbours would surely set me ablaze for killing ‘Shinny bra’. Is this my end? To whom shall I tell my story? Let me lay down, possibly for the last time as I don’t expect to survive this pain or the consequences of my actions.

Good bye Rosco, Good night shinny bra, Good night world.