Divine Visitation

Trigger warning: self harm, suicidal ideation, substance abuse

Divine Visitation.

Change they say is constant, but Chisom felt the same way every year since the death of her parents. It wasn’t that she willed herself to be depressed, things weren’t just working out for her.

Her caretaker had demanded that she had a month to pay her rent, or she’d park out of the lodge, her grades were dropping the more time she spent drowning in alcohol, instead of studying for her exams.

She repressed a sigh, making a vow to get out of the slump she was in, something she had never thought about the year before. But for now, she wanted to do nothing, other than allow herself to be submerged in pity stares; a lot of those were being thrown her way.

She took a swig from the beer bottle, belching loudly as her eyes scanned the dimly lit area, the music thrumming in her ears. A tear slipped from the corner of her eyes, she’d give anything to die, to feel the slit of a razor against her bare skin. Chisom had done it a number of times to ease the ache in her heart, but it wasn’t enough. 

She needed something stronger and that was why she took to drinking, forgetting her sorrow in a haze. She took another swig—longer this time—the lingering taste of alcohol on her tongue made her scrunch her face. What other choice did she have?

She slid from her chair, her legs wobbled as she pushed through the horde of people moving their bodies to the tempo, the mix of sweat and rotten fish, making her wrinkle her nose in irritation.

Her stomach rumbled, she clutched it, feeling the urge to throw up. Chisom rushed to the bathroom, not bothering to differentiate the female section from the male, through the words inked on the door. Her eyes widened as they collided with a guy trying to zip his trouser. He swore under his breath, raising his head to look at the intruder.

She blinked, realizing herself. Chisom muttered her apologies, turning to leave when he grabbed her arm. She was shoved against the door, the guy looked at her with something akin to recognition.

He grunted, his breath fanned her neck, making her sweat. “You don’t look okay,” he said, pulling back, “I’m sorry, I must have lost myself for a minute. Feel free to use the loo, I’m out.” His gaze lingered on the pinkish bruise on her wrist before releasing her, she staggered to the porcelain sink, turning the tap on.

“Will you be fine on your own?” he asked, concern lacing his tone. Chisom was too weak to answer or keep her gaze steady, she clutched the edge of the sink, balancing herself as she retched into the flowing water. The stranger shuffled his feet, unsure, he reached for the door knob. Her eyes rolled back, she slumped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. 

Chisom woke up with a migraine, she dug her head into the pillow, grunting as she raised an arm. Her eyes fluttered, she blinked over and over, mumbling something as she turned to her side. The first thing she noted was a guy leaning into her, as if observing her for the first time. Her eyes widened as she took in his bulging forearm, his fist pressed into the bedsheet.

She gulped, shifting her gaze to the only desk at the corner of the room. “I need pills,” she said, forcing the words out of her mouth. Her head was reeling and she struggled to breathe, craving for her own space. The stranger got up, releasing a sigh as he walked to the bathroom cabinet, tossing bottle after bottle on the floor. Some shattered, their contents staining the crimson tiles. Chisom watched in horror as his foot stepped on the broken pieces, he didn’t wince or show any sign of discomfort.

She blinked over and over, wondering if her eyesight was still intact. The smell of antiseptic hit her, her stomach churned. She hated the odor, when she was little, her mother made use of scented air fresheners after cleaning the house as opposed to bleach. Even as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, an itch made her lift the sleeve of her t-shirt, she was expecting to see rashes all over her arm but to her surprise, her skin was clear—shinning as if groundnut oil had been rubbed on it.

Chisom knew that the guy standing before her with a glass of water and two pills, was no ordinary human. Her brows arched, her headache began to clear the longer she gazed into his azure eyes that glittered like the sunlight reflecting on an ocean. “Who the hell are you?” she managed, her eyes following the movement of his fingers as he popped the pill in his mouth and washed it down with water.

Her jaw dropped, her legs trembled, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Was he a god sent in a human form? Her guardian angel? A robot sent to kill her? Different thoughts were running through her head, she wrapped her arm about her, shivering with just the slightest touch of his thumb on her cheek. 

“Don’t be afraid. I was sent to you by your maker,” he spoke in the clearest tone of voice. Chisom swallowed.

“My maker, who is that?” she looked around, puzzled.

“He’s God, our heavenly father. The one we call on in times of tribulations and need, he sees and hears all.”

As he spoke, she noticed that a white robe sparkling as a constellation of stars had magically appeared on him. “Are you even real?” she asked, pausing to inhale, “Where was he when my parents died in that car crash? Where was he when I prayed to him, where was he when I wandered the streets of Portharcourt with nowhere to turn until an old friend of my dad sighted me on the road and took me in. Where was he when I cried myself to sleep, rolling on my bed. 

“Where was he all those times, huh?” her tone was bitter, bearing no emotion. 

“He sent me to tell you that he’s heard your cry, he sent me to you for a purpose. Now, wipe your tears. It’s not over yet," his voice was raised, his face clouding over in anger. A shudder ran through Chisom, her teeth began to clatter.

“Well, it is for me.” She stepped back, creating a gap between her and the stranger.

“God is knocking at the door of your heart, all you have to do is let him in and say a word of prayer. He’s always with you.”

She shook her head, those were lies told to deceive her and make her believe that there was a God, the almighty, that actually cared about her existence on Earth. Her eyes squeezed shut, willing the image of the man to disappear from her head. By the time they flew open, she noted that she was on the bathroom floor, curled up in a ball, and spent from shedding tears. 

Chisom sprang up, feeling energized and somewhat different from how she’d been. Her lips moved as if in shock, she realized that God had been there for her, all the while.