…Continued from Chapter Seven
Surely death is after me and this innocent man just got caught up in my bad luck. After moments of me screaming and the driver frantically trying to regain control, he managed to keep the car steady until we were parked by the side of the road. When the car was fully parked, he turned to see if I was okay, then said: “Aunty you get bad luck o! If you reach the house, go church make dem pray for you!”
He was right, only God could save me from this evil cloud hanging over my head. Fifteen minutes later, he was done changing into the spare and we were back on the road. We got to Ikeja at about twelve midnight, and he insisted on taking me home. I obliged him. Chioma wasn’t back from her trip yet and I didn’t want to be alone so I opted to go to our family house and he dropped me off there.
My parents were surprised to see me after a long time and at such a late hour, my dress was a little torn and I smelled terribly from the multiple times I peed on myself. I did not have the words to describe my ordeal to them so I just cried instead; they received me like a prodigal child and took care of me.
The next day my dad insisted we go to the police but I declined, it wasn’t an option. They were no good for nothing, besides how will I explain how plus how I got mixed up with cultists? I wasn’t ready to answer any question, so I stayed away.
Chioma got back from her trip and heard all that transpired. She came to the house several times to apologize and begged me to return, but I was too scared to live without my family, for the first time in a long time, I understood their value.
I never went back to live with her. I stayed with my parents and fought numerous battles with fear, anxiety and depression. For many months I could not leave the house because I was afraid something terrible might happen if I did. When I tried to, I would have bouts of a panic attack in public places. My condition deteriorated to a point my parents had to seek professional help for me.
After several attempts to get me professional help without any success, they invited the pastor over to the house to once again pray for me and to convince me to go get help. I agreed and the appointment was booked, I was to begin my sessions with the psychotherapist in five days.
On the day of my appointment, I reluctantly dragged myself to the address I was given. I walked into the office and there was a young lady at the reception.
“Good afternoon,” I said “I’m here to see doctor Obi”
“Good afternoon ma’am, do you have an appointment with him?” she replied.
“Yes, for twelve noon today.”
“Please have a seat” she pointed to the sofa as she picked up the intercom to inform him of my presence.
“What’s your name ma’am?” she asked.
“My name is Ebun”
“Sir, Ms Ebun for twelve is here”
After a few seconds of taking instructions, she turned to me and said, “He’ll be ready for you shortly.”
Minutes later, the intercom rang again and the receptionist answered, she turned to me and said, “He is ready for you now ma’am, this way” pointing to the open door that led to a hallway on her left.
I walked in through a short hallway straight to a door directly at the end of it, opened it and walked into a large, well-decorated office which had an office table to the corner. At the centre of the office were a big sofa and a chair right beside it. Doctor Obi stood up from behind the office table and began to walk towards me with a big smile on his face.
To be continued next week…