Delight Chilegide Olumati

My third attempt at love making ended in death. He’s always argued that love making is supposed to kill and since I wasn’t dead yet he wasn’t making the right love. Today, he said for the trick that’ll either kill me and save us or keep me and take the relationship, he needed my lifeless body on his bed.

I also wish to die for this love, for his sake, I have cleansed my body like the Levies would their animals before slaughtering them on the altar. I have called my friend to tell her that today, I may not return home and if I don’t, she should know that my body is resting peacefully on the bed of the one whom I love.

Two days back, I spent three hours on the phone with Osariemen and I listened to her convince me that death is how a love is kept alive and that dying for it, with him by my side would be the best form I could ever think of. While she spoke, I kept pondering on the many reasons why the other two times I thought I made love didn’t kill me, what did I miss? Why didn’t those other men die? Are women the only ones supposed to die for this. After the first hour on the phone with her, I stopped listening, my mind couldn’t contain the many questions, my knowledge couldn’t find me answers and so I stayed there, on the phone, quiet with occasional responses of “yeah, that’s right.” The call ended and the words that didn’t end with it were, “I hope you let yourself die this time, your entirety will thank me.”

A friend shouldn’t lie to you, a friend shouldn’t lead you astray, so maybe she’s right. Maybe this should feel different, maybe this should feel good enough to allow my body a smooth transition into something surreal.

Yesterday, I called him, I told him I was ready to save us and I was ready to keep us and he sighed; that type that embraces you, that makes you feel safe. It’s usually slower, calmer and ends with a little smile. I continued talking about the things I’d like for him to do to me before the act that leaves me lifeless; I told him I’d like a gentle kiss to my ears, a careful touch between my thighs, I told him all the things Osariemen had told me about her different attempts at dying and just when I was about to conclude I heard a cocky laughter, it was my brother,  Jonathan. He had been listening all along. I intended to convince him that this was a play for school and I was on the phone with a coursemate. I doubt he’d listen long enough to understand, with the look on his face, I think he’s already seeing me for who I am. My nipples are failing to hide the reality of things and my voice cannot keep still enough to make this conversation sound real. At this point, Chidera stayed with me on the phone with silence and an unfamiliar level of attention. Do I end this call and have this conversation with Jonathan or should I let him listen?
I continued regardless, at this point making the conversation seem like a play from school and I needed to excuse from my colleague, “Chidera, I’ll call you right back, my big brother just walked.”

With this, I hoped he got the message that it was a practical exercise for school but that didn’t work. My tone gave me away and Jonathan in his words was no child. I couldn’t wait for his unsolicited advice to end so I could go back to my mental preparation for what’s to come.

It’s a bright day and I woke up with a full smile; today, I die, I give a part of me away and I hope to call Osariemen on my way to my death. If this goes well, if I can go through with the trick he intends to perform today, then maybe the thoughts we’ve carried of a family of 6 may be more than just another delusional conversation.

Just after dressing up and stepping out, I called her, “hey babe, wish me luck” and she said “may the gods that grant our little desires, grant you a space in his world” and if that didn’t sound poetic, I wonder what poetry was, I smiled and I hung up while waving my hands in an attempt to getting a bike.

I finally got to his place, he had this warm look on, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that’s the look priests wore when they wanted to sacrifice their lambs. He hugged me so tightly and the hug carried with it a different level of intensity, he quickly went for my neck and kissed it slow enough for my heart to race quickly. I held onto him tightly, I rather lose my life than let go of this grip, I didn’t want it to end, I slowly let my voice sing a familiar song of pleasure, this time, a little louder. If I must die, I need every moment leading to it to stay resounding in both our minds.  He took off the one thing that held my tits away from the freedom of his touch. I hope to keep myself from bursting from this level of intensity. Why are his other fingers playing “fast steppers” between my thighs? I still have my clothes on and I haven’t been touched this way so I do not know what’s expected of me. Can I hold his rod and staff? Will they be able to comfort my body? What tricks are up his sleeves?

I stayed still, feeling everything there was, singing as loud and as fast as my heart beat could permit. We are finally on the bed, now that’s a place I am familiar with, we now have our birthday suits on, I think the next step is to quickly go on him and ride him to his milky way and watch him sing this song he’s taught me to sing today. He’s doing most of the work and his kisses are no longer plastered on my face. I want to possess the powers to quiet the voices in my head. I am on the bed, a familiar place but the feeling isn’t familiar. My eyes are slowly shutting down on me. Am I dying already? Is this what the road to death looks like?

He just stopped. He just turned me over. It feels so great. Where has this experience been all my life? My voice is slowly going down, with every slit to my throat, my breath is leaving my body. How do I explain to Osariemen that this wasn’t just pleasure? It was a lot of pleasure; new discoveries and yes, I bled and I died.

Chidera was afterall, a murderer and I, a saviour. My strength has finally killed me and saved us.