I did not do it. It wasn’t me. They just keep blaming me all the time. It has never crossed my mind to hurt anyone in my life. Why then would they think I killed this man? He has never hurt me. Ever. There is nothing I can think of right now that this man here has done to me.
But her. I know she did it. She has always been the one. That time Mama accused me of giving the dog poison, it wasn’t me. It was her. Matter of fact, I watched her strangle the poor thing to death. It was about the most viscous thing I had seen an 8-year-old do. The little dog, struggling for life. But then, it was satisfying to watch. So, I didn’t tell on her.That was the second time I saw her. She never gets blamed for anything. It is always me.
One night, Mama called the prophet to conduct a deliverance session on her, he kept asking “who are you?” But she was silent. We all knew she had to say something, but she just smirked at me and at the prophet. Mama beat me up that night. She called me an evil child. But it was her. She never owns up.
This dead man, who is lying here in his blood, is a neighbour. Like I said, he has never done anything to me, but I have seen him do things to her. The first time I met her was in his room. He called me in. It was just the two of us. Then he tried to touch me in a bad way. Mama had warned me not to let anyone touch me like that. So, I said “uncle, leave me alone”. But he didn’t stop just yet. He told me it was alright. He held me. I threatened to shout, but he promised to buy things for me. I struggled. He left me. He apologised. He gave me 2 buns that he bought from Mama Aboy’s shop. The type I liked. As I was eating, I saw her. She suddenly was there. I watched him do bad things to her. She cried. I cried. Did her mother not warn her like my mother did? Why didn’t she say anything? He warned her not to mention it to anyone or he would beat her. She looked at me with fear. I saw her often after that day. Every time she was around, I got blamed for something.
It has been about 3 years now since I saw her last. I only saw her in my dreams. I began to see her again after I returned home from Aunty’s house, where I stayed to learn tailoring. On this day, I went to say hello to our neighbour. She walked in as soon as I did, but this time around, she didn’t look as unhappy as she used to. She was in control. A seductress in her element. Handcuffs. It was beautiful to see. He smiled. She smiled. I smiled. Everyone was happy. Everyone was comfortable. Then, just like that, she brought out a pair of scissors. My pair of scissors. And with speed and skill, stabbed him. In his neck. Repeatedly. In his groin. His stomach. Repeatedly. He screamed. She smiled. I smiled. People hit the door. Someone kicked it open, and they all shouted at the sight. Why were they screaming? I thought it was beautiful. They hit me. Mama was there, too. In Mama’s eyes I could see anger, not disappointment. She called me an evil child once again. But it wasn’t me. It was her. I looked around and couldn’t see her. In my hands were the pair of scissors. My pair of scissors. His blood was on my dress, as well.
But I did not do it. It wasn’t me.
