Whispers in The dark

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and something faintly metallic, blood, maybe. Sophia lay still in the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, her wrists wrapped in fresh bandages. She should have been relieved that she survived. But she wasn’t.

Because now she was back in her father’s world, and there was no escaping it.

Her ears picked up the faint shuffle of footsteps outside the door. Probably John or Osagie, making sure she hadn’t found another way to disgrace the family. The thought made her stomach turn.

A quiet knock broke through her thoughts.

Sophia tensed. “Come in.”

The door creaked open, but instead of John’s smug face or her father’s cold stare, it was the girl from the next ward.

Ada.

She had the kind of confidence Sophia envied, like the world owed her something and she knew how to collect. Her dark skin glowed even under the dim hospital lights, and the braids that framed her face made her look effortlessly rebellious.

“Hey,” Ada said, stepping inside. “You look terrible.”

Sophia let out a dry laugh. “Thanks.”

Ada smirked. “I mean it in the nicest way possible.”

Sophia watched as she pulled a plastic bag from behind her back. She placed it on the table beside the bed, then sat on the chair, her movements lazy but deliberate.

“I brought food,” Ada said. “Jollof rice. The real kind. Not the trash they serve here.”

Sophia’s stomach clenched. The thought of food made her nauseous, but at the same time, something about Ada’s presence made it impossible to push her away.

“You… snuck in food?” Sophia asked.

Ada shrugged. “Hospital rules are stupid.”

Sophia swallowed. This girl was everything she wasn’t. Free, unafraid.

Ada must have noticed her hesitation because she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

Sophia hesitated before answering, “Not when there’s nothing to say.”

Ada tilted her head. “And yet, I feel like you have a lot to say.”

Sophia’s throat tightened. She wanted to. She wanted to let everything spill, the loneliness, the fear, the way her father had stripped her of everything, even her own body.

But she couldn’t.

Ada seemed to sense the walls closing up. “Alright, I won’t push.” She leaned back and stretched. “You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

Sophia nodded.

“Good. Then we’ll talk outside this place.”

Sophia stiffened. “I… I don’t think I can.”

Ada gave her a knowing smile. “Then sneak out.”

Sophia’s heart clenched. It was ridiculous. Impossible.

But a part of her wanted to say yes.

Going home felt like walking into a graveyard.

Peter was the only one who showed any real happiness at her return, hugging her so tight she could barely breathe. Osagie didn’t say a word. He barely looked at her. And John…

John only smirked and said, “Welcome back, dear sister.”

Sophia wanted to scream.

She retreated to her room, locking the door behind her, though she knew it wouldn’t matter. Privacy was an illusion in this house.

Later that night, there was a knock at her door.

John.

She debated ignoring him but knew he wouldn’t leave.

“Come in,” she said, her voice flat.

John entered with a small box in his hand. He placed it on her desk, his expression unreadable.

“I got you something,” he said.

Sophia stared at the box like it might explode. “Why?”

John’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Can’t a brother care?”

She scoffed. “You don’t care.”

John sighed, feigning exasperation. “Look, I know things have been rough. But I’m trying.”

Sophia’s fists clenched. “Trying to do what? Make me believe you actually give a damn?”

John’s expression flickered with irritation. “You’re always so dramatic.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Dramatic? Do you even hear yourself? You’ve been spying on me for years, reporting every single thing to Dad, making sure I never breathe without permission. But sure, I’m the dramatic one.”

John’s jaw tightened. “Maybe if you weren’t so—”

“So what?” Sophia stepped forward, her voice trembling with anger. “So broken? So pathetic? Say it, John! That’s what you want to say, isn’t it?”

John opened his mouth, then shut it.

For once, he had nothing to say.

Sophia exhaled shakily. “You blame me for her death, don’t you?”

John’s entire body tensed.

“You think I don’t know?” Sophia whispered. “You think I don’t hear the way you talk about me when you think I’m not listening?”

John looked away.

Sophia swallowed the lump in her throat. “I loved her too, John.” Her voice cracked. “But you… you just wanted someone to hate.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then, without another word, John turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Sophia sank onto her bed, her hands trembling.

She should have felt relieved that she finally said it.But she didn’t.

Because nothing had changed.

And that night, she found out it was about to get worse.

She had gone downstairs for water when she heard voices coming from their father’s study.

John’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“She’s suspicious,” he said. “She knows something’s off.”

Osagie’s voice followed, low and firm. “Let her think she’s free. She wouldn’t see it coming.”

Sophia’s pulse skyrocketed.

They were talking about her.

John sighed. “And Ada?”

Osagie’s voice turned cold. “We’ll take care of that problem soon.”

Sophia’s blood ran cold.

Her fingers curled against the wooden door frame, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

They knew.

They knew about Ada.

And they were planning something.

Her mind raced, panic clawing at her throat. She needed to move. She needed to think.

But all she could do was stand there, frozen in the dark, as her world crumbled once again.