Wayne started beating me five months into our marriage. Initially, it was simply an unexpected slap or a punch to the kidney. It was so unpredictable and out of character that I deemed it my fault. I reasoned that I must have brought it on myself, and that I deserved it. That naïve perspective changed when the abuse became far more regular and intense. After two further months of humiliating, soul-wrecking beatings, I finally walked out. I left with only the clothes on my back and firm resolve burning in my heart. I moved in with a friend, but I knew I needed help. “Speak to Mr. Eden,” Sinead advised me. “You know he's always been kind-hearted to us and helps everybody without hesitation,” she added persuasively. And that's how I ended up outside his office the next morning, clutching my college bag and courage firmly to my breast. Mr. Eden was the College Counselor, and one of the most unselfish men I had ever met. Not a single student had ever been turned away by this gentle, unassuming man. And I was about to ask him to not just go the extra mile, but to also go out on a limb for me. How classically clichéd. “Marina, come inside,” Mr. Eden invited me the minute he saw me. “Have a seat. How's life been treating you?” he asked innocently, but his tone and the innocuous question triggered a flood of sobs. I was embarrassed; I chastised myself for making such a spectacle of myself. Mr. Eden instantly took charge, soothing me with encouraging words and a soft tone. He offered me a bottle of water, which I gratefully accepted. I confided completely in him. I was surprised by the first words he said, but I shouldn't have been. “We need to get you into a women's shelter today. I know a place near the college. I will take you there after I've called them to give them a heads up, all right?” As if that wasn't enough, this amazing man then spread the word – with my permission – on the college WhatsApp group that a student needed donations of clothes, toiletries, food; the works. The response was overwhelming! Mr. Eden took me to the Saartje Baartman Women's Shelter, and they agreed to house me as well as try to resolve the problems Wayne and I were having by giving us marriage counselling. All absolutely free of charge! I received so many donations of barely-worn clothes, brand new underwear, toiletries and even money that I could give some of the things to Sinead to thank her for having granted me a safe haven when I had needed it. And the best thing of all? Wayne is a changed man. The couples therapy had opened his eyes, even bringing him to the point where he apologized tearfully to me for ever having lifted a hand to me. “You are a treasure, Marina,” Wayne said to me on the first night I returned home. He was holding me gently in his arms while he spoke in a voice shaking with emotion. “I nearly lost the most precious gift I had ever received, but I will never again be this careless.” “If not for Mr. Eden, both of us would have lost each other,” I said and smiled, feeling the heavy burdens lift off my shoulders like fog burned off by the warmth of a rising sun.

Ding-Dong! “Stand clear of the closing doors, please” blasted the announcer's voice across the station. Jonah had heard this everyday since he could remember. “3 stops till Kingston” he thought, carrying a backpack full of books that he dreaded carrying for hours on the commute to and back from school. Jonah kicked his feet back and forth, his feet grazing the ground just slightly. He stared at the creases on his shoes who's brand he couldn't recall. They were some off brands anyways, no reason to remember which ones. The subway screeched to a halt, the faces outside the car that were once blurred stare back at Jonah. People start to push and shove the minute the doors open. Running up the stairs to leave the station, a mirage of conversations, mumblings and people talking flood Jonah's senses. He can't really make out what they're saying, he doesn't really try. “Jonah! How was school?” Jonah's finally made it to his destination. A small deli run by an older Korean man and his daughter. The sign outside reads “Ray's Delicatessen” but most people here call it “Ray's”, “Mr. Park's”, “the Park/Park” or “the Deli”. For Jonah, he calls it “home”. “Fine Mr. Park! Same as always!” replied Jonah Mr. Park shook his head and chuckled as he continued to tend to other customers, “As long as you're not getting into trouble” It's become a routine, Mr. Park asks how he is and Jonah replies with fine no matter what. Jonah tries to not stress him out, he always hears Hannah, Mr. Park's daughter, complain about her forehead wrinkles, crows feet and smile lines. Jonah doesn't see a problem but still tries to avoid making them worse Jonah slips behind the checkout counter, he sits on the blue crate right under the cash register and starts his homework on his knees like usual. History, English, then Science and Math, hardest to easiest. Jonah loves closing up shop and definitely not just because he gets to eat some of the unsold bagels and sausages. “Ai *tsk* Jonah, you know you mustn't sit here” exclames Mr. Park. Jonah doesn't move, Mr. Park doesn't really care. Time passes, business has been slow these days but it only means more time for Mr. Park and Jonah to talk. The deli was not just a place to get a quick eat for Jonah after school, it was his place of refuge, one of love and community. He had somewhere to be and all Mr. Park asked for in return were English lessons and to use some of Jonah's beginner-level novels to practice his reading skills. Jonah knew Mr. Park stopped needing those lessons a long time ago and for those textbooks, Mr. Park still reads them. Even though he completed all of them, cover to cover, hundreds of times, it still gives those literary works a second life. And Jonah would never mind when Mr. Park read them outloud to him either, even when he pretended to hate it. Bed-time stories were for ‘babies' and not 8 and a half year-olds. Still, “Maybe these books aren't so bad” thought Jonah. For without them, their friendship would be lost in translation.

I used to have a friend who was from another country. I had never seen him in person but, I think, we used to be good friends. I learnt many from him and he always gave me good advice. Because of my marriage I had to delete my facebook account and we are not friends anymore. Now my only friend and adviser is my husband. Alloh never leaves us alone! Allah knows better what is good or bad for us! Don't care and take everything easy! Live your best life!

Jake and Fiona had been inseparable as kids. They were the best of friends and spent every moment they could together. They lived on the same street and went to the same school, and even ended up in the same class for most of their elementary and middle school years. When they were little, they loved to play dress up and have tea parties in the park, climb trees, and run through the sprinklers on hot summer days. As they got older, they started to explore their interests and passions more, and while they still had a lot in common, they also started to drift apart a bit. Fiona became really interested in art and spent most of her time drawing and painting, while Jake developed a love for sports and spent hours practicing and playing with his friends. They still saw each other often and would hang out when they could, but it wasn't quite the same as it used to be. When high school came around, they ended up in different schools and saw each other even less. They stayed in touch, but their friendship wasn't as strong as it had been. After high school, Jake and Fiona both decided to go to the same college, but they ended up in different dorms and had very different schedules. They ran into each other from time to time, but it was usually just a quick hello in passing. One day, they ended up in the same study group for a difficult class they were both taking. At first, it was a little awkward since they hadn't spent much time together in years, but as they started working together, they realized how much they still had in common. They started to hang out more outside of class and their friendship picked up right where it had left off. As they spent more time together, they started to realize just how much they had missed each other's company. They laughed and talked about everything, just like they used to when they were kids. They even started to do some of the same things they used to do when they were younger, like having picnics in the park and going on adventures. Before they knew it, Jake and Fiona were the best of friends again, just like they had been all those years ago. They were each other's support system and were always there for each other, through the good times and the tough ones. As they graduated college and started their adult lives, they knew that they would always be there for each other. They had come full circle, from being the best of friends as kids to drifting apart and finding their way back to each other as adults. They were grateful for the time they had spent apart, as it had helped them grow and discover who they were as individuals, but they were even more grateful to have each other in their lives again. They were a team, and they knew that they would always have each other's backs, no matter what life threw their way.

My Paradise: Now i am going to share my own life story which i underwent when i was 9 or 10 yers old. Let me give you first background general information : when i was 9 our family used to be one of the poorest one in our countryside my dad and mom had nothing to do and no job like other parents, once or twice in a month only my dad used to visit another countryside and he used to came back with a less amount of money. that would be enough for our living expanses, that said , ironically my father was addicted to alcohol , he was alcoholic and used drink even though we had no money for bread. So he spent half of his money for purchasing alcohol drinks. There was always conflict between my mom and dad . Whatever as i was young, immature boy i did not care of anything. I could not get on well both with my mom and dad , instead I had the best family member of us and the best friend of mine his name was alpha and actually he was my dog and both best friend. Today my story is wholly devoted to him, to his memory . i remember whenever i had fight with my father mostly due to his unconciousness i used to go away from home mostly to the hill of the nearest mountain to our home with alpha and rarely i used to cry, weep over everything I do remember once I was going to my frends home for some schoolworks almost by sunset and of course my friend Alpha was going together with me . As usual situation I faced some bullies maybe 3 or 4 , they were just hiding their facewith masks and startood to approach me , I was so proud that i had my brave friend with me . he just sprang up and went to the bullies with barking like the Lucifer , he tried to bite them, that said they ran away and did not come back again . Due to such events i was loving him more and more, day by day as buddy. we used to get, understand each other fully , whenever i came back from school firstly i used to hear the " Welcome home" bark from Alpha. several months maybe a year passed, as usual i came back home from school. hmm but I did not find Alpha he was not home so i went inside of the house there were my parents and brother all together sitting . my dad showed his kind and said " Come on son today your mother cooked soup for you, today is happy day becouse we are going to eat enough meat" . I was happy also I had not have breakfast that day i was starving. i went and sat down I ate couple of bowls of soup and probably 300gramms of meat. I was stuffed. I had never eaten such and I was feeling like a king becouse of lush food . i was a lad who always cares of his friend , I callected all bones which we had cleaned the meat of it and wanted to give them to Alpha. S o I went out and called " Alpha,Alpha come on where are you i have surprize for you". After my dad said " come back son he can not hear you now". I went to him, set down and said " did he go somewhere". Dad said " Yes now he is with you, sitting with you together ( I thought he was on good mood and joking around ) " i said " I am asking seriously, i thibk Alpha is hungr too so let me give these bones to him". Dad laughed a bit and said " No dog eats it's own bones son you now just ate your dog. Whatever I needed to do this becouse we all were hungry also we will not catch cold . do not get upset you will get used to live without him , he was just a dog". I could not say a word only , i was shocked . i felt burst of anger , i raised my noice ,c ryed and sprang up and striked my father several times. Of course my punches were not powerfull so my father asked to stop it and slapped me on face. the flood of tears were on my face i ran to the restroom, put my finger into my throat and vomited voluntary. i was almost unconcious... that is how our friendship ended up. Years passed my father went to Kazakhistan to earn money and fund us. every week i try to find a daily work for some money to pay for my Ielts courses. sometimes as this month I struggle to find 30 bucks and be needed to miss my courses for a month. I hope one day to be a rich person and provide all poor people to be the knowladgable . that is why i am trying to read and learn more everyday . THE END

Old man James sat in front of his porch as the sun caressed his harsh features. His face was relaxed- a rarity indeed, considering he always has a frown etched on his dark face. On Sunday afternoons like this, when all the folks were in church, he sat outside exuding a moment of serenity, like now. I almost gave in to the urge to take a picture commemorating oldman James's first smile in decades. Almost. Consequently, the chattering of people permeated the solemn atmosphere, effectively putting to death old man James' peaceful aura. Kickstarting his feet to life, he stood, grunted a good afternoon to me (much to my surprise since he'd effectively ignored me for the two and half hours I'd been staring at him- or maybe four hours, anyways-), he adjusted His brownish-whatever-coloured cap on his thinned hair and entered his salon before anyone could shout "Old man James". He doesn't look as old as his name implies, however, his never-smile-till-I-die demeanor added a decade to his 50ish self. On the flip side, not many could mess with old man James. I mean, his cold demeanor could give anyone a brain freeze. That, however, doesn't stop the people of Achimota from giving him names. A little payback for all the times he'd declined their festive dinner invitations, or their housewarming parties- which is everytime. So, behind closed doors, he's known as 'memuna' (always frowning), kakai (beast), James Debond (don't ask) among many other derogatory names- by kids and adults alike. I also didn't like him at first. Don't get me wrong but he is rude and scary. The last time, for instance, he'd sacked his client for crying too much and snotting in his shop. The client was two years old and it was raining heavily outside. Both mother and child would have been drenched if my mom hadn't let them in her shop. So yeah, Old man James has a terrible rep. However, hearing his life story from the town's Wikipedia, which is my mother, and writing it down, put things in perspective. Apparently, there was a time Old man James smiled. Believe it or not, he even laughed. Yep. Teeth and all. That was eleven years ago, before he lost his wife in a car accident. According to my mom, it broke him so bad he moved out of their town house in the estate-y side of Achimota, into his barber salon. It finally explains how he manages to keep up with his rent even though few people frequent his shop. Apparently, he's loaded. Anyways, sitting here side by side with Old man James' as he narrates his tragedy, in a voice with more than just coldness in it, will forever be one of my dearest moments in life. It's a shame you think I'd tell the most vulnerable parts of a person's life without said person's clarification. However, It's more shameful that no words can accurately describe the pain, longing, misery and regret running across his features. Apparently, 20th July, was his wife's eleventh year anniversary and he needed someone to talk to. Guess who played incompetent therapist to the melancholic old man James, this girl! For accuracy sake, let's ignore the "he needed someone to talk to" part. This is how the session began Me (suspiciously cheerful): Good morning Mr James Old man James (eyes narrowed in suspicion): *grunts* Me: How are you doing today Old man James: *less enthusiastic grunts* Me( still with a huge smile): Is it me or you sound...sad? As our elders say, happiness is the uhm... antidote for the uhm.. .heart but sadness...sadness is veeery bad, like terrible, you- Old man James (with a heavy sigh and wistful voice): I see your mother told you.. Me (with a heavily dumbfounded face because that's the longest sentence Old man James has ever said to me): Uhh

Idolo knew only two proper sentences in second grade. Thick, tall and seventeen of age, he was quite the sight in the wooden desk meant for eight or nine year olds like me. And he wasn't the only one. At nineteen, his sister, Lariba was a grade ahead of him and could form close to four accurate sentences- a feat, considering where they'd moved from. Born and raised in the Northern region of Ghana meant less access to basic schools, or any school for that matter. Idolo and Lariba had been child workers, that was until an uncle in the city took them in and enrolled them in our community basic school. A miracle which brought them so much joy. How do I know? They never flinched or cowered anytime the students in school mocked them for their English grammar. At eight, even I knew better than to mock people thrice my size. Nevertheless, Idolo never kept mute in class. He either spoke in his ‘broken English' or asked questions in same ‘broken English'. The best parts of being in class with the relentless Idolo was whenever he applied question tags in his speech. His answers, ridiculous as they were, roused laughter even in me. That was until his straight face had taught us- Idolo never joked. I recall the afternoon when Madam Eva had once asked him “Won't you go for your food?”, because he'd been writing notes down during lunch period. Looking straight into her eyes, he'd replied “Won't you go.” A statement, not a question. Richard had run over to the lunch hall, telling everyone in our class. We hadn't believed Idolo could possibly mock Madam Eva and had ignored the stupid Richard. A few days after that incident, Sir Addo had asked Idolo “Won't you bring your homework?”. We were all in class then. Lifting his immensely broad shoulders in a casual shrug, Idolo had replied “Won't you bring.” I still blame Madam Eva for not correcting him. Months passed on but Idolo and I never crossed paths, until we did…in the most flattering way…at least for him. Everyday, my best friend Miriam, and I walked home from school together because we lived in the same compound. We took a new path to avoid Nadia mess-with-our-lives and her minion, Esse; two fifth graders who'd made it their personal mission to bully the lives out of us. Anyways, we'd been in the middle of a laughing fit over something, probably stupid, when we'd spotted the devils of our lives. They were seated under a palm tree, obviously waiting for us. Nadia spotted us and nudged Esse who turned to us with a maddened glint in her dark brown eyes. We gulped. Advancing till they had us cornered, they did a poor impersonation of brutes, rolling their sleeves and cracking their knuckles. You should know that at this point, we'd squinted our eyes, bracing ourselves for the impact(s). Which never came because a thick, dark figure barreled its way to the girls, nailing them in the stomach- with his head. The girls fell hard…and far away, grunting and moaning from the hit. The megahead turned to us- it was Idolo! Casting all inhibitions aside, we threw ourselves on him, squeezing him in a hug. A joyful, tear wrenching hug. How could we repay this kindness? The Idolo effect proved incredibly effective, because after the incident, Nadia and Esse avoided us like the plague. Nevertheless, Miriam and I couldn't let our guards down. We knew- from experience- how bullies always come back like a terrible case of lice. But being the first in class came with perks of its own. Like offering private lessons to the brute other brutes were afraid of for protection. Miriam, on the other hand, had only her toothless grin to offer. Everyday, after school, Idolo came over to my house to learn English and Maths. And everyday, he improved- till he got his question tags right. Lariba, upon seeing the obvious change in her brother's speech and grades, joined the Audrey teaching course 101. Till she could form more than four sentences. Miriam, Idolo, Lariba and I were an unstoppable force of brains and brawn.

Coronavirus. The end of the world as we know it. Thousands of people struggled to adjust to the new way of life. For example, school has been split between virtual and brick-and-mortar, a term we all hate. School, and life in general, doesn't feel real. It's like I'm reliving one day, each day, over and over, in a constant cycle that only ceases when I'm asleep. One aspect of life that helps slow down the endless cycle is the routine of school. The best part of school besides the rare sighting of interesting classes is the searching for a nice group of friends and keeping them. You have to find people you vibe with, or it won't work. Finding the perfect group of high school friends takes work. Like finding the perfect pair of glasses. If the energy is blurry, I can't see myself staying in that situation. With there being so much distance between people playing it safe and people risking their lives, I feel like I know nobody. It's difficult to actually socialize considering I have never seen some of these people in real life. The pull to attend brick-and-mortar school is strong, but my desire to not catch a virus is stronger. Especially with people breathing down my neck constantly, trying to guilt me with “I miss yous.” Texting me “it's so fun here.” Don't forget the fan favorite “they give out free snacks.” They also give out a free virus that I'm not interested in. When the option was proposed for students to return to brick and mortar, I knew from the beginning my answer would be no. Some kids were eager to return, but not me. Sure, it would prove to be a fun social experience, where you could meet lots of new friends. But I didn't want to meet the coronavirus along with them. This decision to stay safe and at home didn't sit right with my friends. To this day, I receive requests to log into the district portal and switch that selection to “brick and mortar.” It's weird to think that I won't truly step foot on my school until sophomore year or later. Even though my friends miss me, I'm not comfortable with returning to normal school. People can pull my leg or try to convince me, but I won't do it. I'm happy standing my ground just as the coronavirus cells will stand infectiously in their noses.

I wanted to write something about how I met my sister, here it is. My sister and I, never knew each other in person. Face to face. An online game brought us together. We met through an online game and became amazing friends. After about a year, I got discord. I told her and we gave each other our usernames and tags and friended each other on there. We started texting on there and soon enough, we began to call. We showed our faces to each other. And all that other sh^^. But while we went on this, things did go hard us. I developed big big anxiety and depression, but was also suicidal. My sister goes through countless amounts of abuse. Verbal, and sometimes physical. I wish I could get a flight and fly to Italy and bring her back here but. I'm only a Minor. And, I'm not sure if I am able to. I live in the United States. Were 5,000 kilometors away from each other. That's almost half the world. I began to cut myself and plan my death. I told her all about it. She told me "no, I can't loose you, your family can't loose you." And so, I gave up on dying. She began to do the same thing she had told me not to do. So I told her the same thing. Noah is the oldest sibling in her house while I am the youngest. I have 1 older brother and thats it. Until I met her. I now have 1 older brother, 1 younger brother, and 2 little sisters. (She's 11, I'm 15) I promised her that, if she ever sacrificed herself. I would either live on and carry on her story and the sacrifice she made. Or, I would give up to be with her again. We made the promise to eventually have her come to live with me and my girlfriend (future wife) and she said she's bringing her girlfriend as well. Of course I want her to be happy but I said, "She can come, but you 2 are sharing a room." My final choice. I love my sister dearly, I wish for her to come now and be a part of my life. Once she turns 18, my birthday present to her are plane tickets to Florida. One for her, and one for her girlfriend. When I know that they are flying in, I will pick them up, bring them home. Let them get settled in. And get them used to the city. My girlfriend and I have agreed to this together and agreed with negotiations, and rules. We gonna need a big house.

There are 1,022,000 words in the English language, and not a single word describes how much my friends mean to me. Each has made a positive impact on my life. Whether they are someone I can relate to or someone I can be myself around with, being around my friends will always keep a smile on my face. There are some things that a human needs that you can't buy with industrial wealth. And one of those things is friends. True friends. When the pandemic started I was confused. Scared of the rumors and news on the internet. I was unprepared for the inevitable. In the first month of the pandemic, I was able to concentrate on myself. As the pandemic settled down and people started interacting with each other, I was finally able to meet my friends in person. Although we called through zoom meetings and phone calls, meeting each other in person just had a better feeling. With very minimal things to do during a pandemic, we kept ourselves busy. We would play games like skribbl.io or Minecraft. With everything wrong with the world back then, I would always have a shoulder to lean on. As virtual learning was almost over and summer just around the corner, there was finally something to look forward to. My friends and I started planning activities for us to do during this break. Sleepovers, pool parties, raiding the gas station's snacks once every week. Everything was looking good for us. As I returned home feeling refreshed from my walk, my parents seemed a bit anxious. As I sat down after washing my hands I was ready for dinner. We were almost halfway done with our dinner and not a single word was spoken. Finally, my sister decided to break the silence. “Dad, what happens to the janitors that work at buildings during the pandemic?” This caught my dad off guard. He told her that the janitors would have to find a temporary job until the pandemic is over. He explained that this is happening to thousands of people around the world and that we should be grateful for what we have. And all of the sudden my parent's attention turned towards me. I was skeptical about why I was getting interesting looks from my parents, but I decided to ignore it. At last, my parents told me what was going on. My dad told me that the company he was working for was barely holding on and that their stocks were going down vertically. And apparently, it wasn't just his company, it was the whole stock market. He told me that his company had another office in North Carolina. We could move there temporarily until his company starts doing better, but if we weren't able to move to North Carolina…. I knew what he was going to say. I sat on my chair with no appetite for dinner anymore. My dad's words had faded and I immediately thought of one thing. Leaving my friends. I wasn't ready and neither will I ever be. Leaving my friend would be the equivalent of losing a loved one. After dinner, I felt very pessimistic. I went straight to bed, hoping to take my mind off the topic. I woke up feeling a bit better. I didn't want to tell my friends everything because I was still processing information myself. Every single day I would look at the stock market to see if the issue had been resolved. I dreaded to see a green line, but I would always be disappointed to see the red one instead. There was this one exceptionally hard night. And what I did that night was unusual for me. I prayed. I didn't pray for just my family, or my future, but for all of the people who were going through what I was. The next day, as usual, I went online to see the stock market. And miraculously, I saw a green line. I could not have been happier. It felt like God heard my problems. Now, of course, a small green line didn't fix the overall issue. It would take a lot of time to resolve the whole problem. But I was happy to see some actual progress. As school ended and the 2-month break started, I became more thankful for the things around me. Knowing anything could change at any time, I tried to find the positives out of every situation. So for me, I tried to get the most out of my summer break. Hanging out with my family, having fun with my friends. Those moments I had were and are memories. But despite what fun activity I was doing a small thought always lingered at the back of my head “What if it happens again?” It's been 16 months and I have changed completely. That ‘thought' of mine is now gone. I have moved to another city with 2 of my other friends. Leaving my childhood and friends had kept me in a gloomy stage. I had considered them as brothers but happened to move 2 hours away from them. Ever since the pandemic, I felt like my journey should be heard. Though my experience may not be as struggling as other's, I would love to relate to somebody. When I came across biopage I knew it was perfect for me. With the community so friendly, I wasn't embarrassed to write. So I strapped down and started sharing my story. ”There are 1,022,000 words in the English language…”

A sudden global pandemic spirals out of control and then leads to lockdowns across major cities. What does that leave someone with? Nothing but a trail of disruption. For me the situation was a cocktail of activities and opportunities I had never dreamed about either doing or not doing. So here I was, this Nigerian lady of twenty-three trying to figure out my ‘new' life. Starting a relationship was never, ever part of my considerations. So how then did it eventually happen? Educational institutions had gone on break, most businesses and establishments asked to closed down or restrict opening hours and everyone ordered to stay indoors as much as possible to contain the spreading viral disease called COVID-19. But alone at home with little of my life the same as it was before the crisis, my world had transformed into something strange. I was at home doing nothing much except reading my books, catching up with old friends in town through social media and helping around with a little renovation with my siblings. Finding a traditional job that I could engage myself with around my neighborhood and beyond proved futile. It simply was a disaster. No one was hiring anyone new for a job. However, four months into my university break, I found something to do at home that I should say was fascinating: online freelance work. How I got into such a job sometimes makes me wonder but it all started with a friend of mine back from secondary school called Felix. He had sent me a Facebook message asking if I could help him out with some writing gigs. After my initial negative reply which was based on my little experience with creative writing, I agreed to help him. Back in secondary school, Felix was the most captivating of all the boys in my class and I considered him the most brilliant. Once in a while he would top the class but his periodic genius mind wasn't what started our friendship back then. Rather, it was his love for writing and drawing that got my attention. Some probing and demanding on my part made him finally take me as his apprentice. Weeks later, just as I was making some progress with these creative skills, I decided to quit. My love interest in art had gone and in its stead a close friendship had formed between me and Felix. I didn't feel I had it in me to be an artist of any sort or so I thought. Still I occasionally practiced when I needed a break from some stressful things. My first client was a lady, Felix's friend. She requested for a drawing of her boyfriend ahead of his birthday coming up in two weeks. A simple but unique piece of art was my first product in this new world of commerce and it was highly appreciated by many. I did many more interesting gigs after that but the most heartwarming was a love letter I wrote for a girl whose father had survived COVID-19. She cried after reading it stating it was the most love filled message she had read in a long time. Felix had told me about it in the happiest voice and for once in a long while I was moved by that knowledge. Many times I had to refer to the internet for tips on how to go about some projects. And like a mentor that he was, Felix was there to guide me through it all. He shared tips, experience, techniques with me that would help bring better results than the last projects. A year later since I started this new journey I found myself not so enthusiastic about it. It's like I had lost my love and interest for this phase and experience of my life that I felt so withdrawn. True, it was very demanding especially on my creative abilities but I sadly realized I was not in my most unique and comfortable zone. And so like years before, I decided to quit. I sent Felix a message in June, 2021, thanking him for everything: the teaching, support, advice and of course friendship. I told him in the nicest way that I wasn't ready to continue down this road of entrepreneurship, As a second-year nursing student my future career still obsessed me and I did not want to let that go. I did make a request to him that I wanted to be his official business partner in the art industry in future. More of a inactive one I reasoned. Sadly, he did not give a reply when I expected. I was hurt. I imagined he also had the same feeling of disappointment despite the confidence and encouragement he had given me and I still let him down. Some weeks later he responded. “I would gladly have you as my official business partner. Would you please accept my proposal to be my girlfriend?” he wrote back to me. Shock and surprise hit me as I digested the meaning of the message. I had a number of male friends but I had never dated or had a boyfriend before. This really was a first for me. I sent him an affirmative reply teasingly asking if he has had a girlfriend before. He said yes: me, in those days when we were in secondary school. And so that's how my love journey began with a guy called Felix. And till now, we are still going on strong in our relationship.

A sudden global pandemic spirals out of control and then leads to lockdowns across major cities. What does that leave someone with? Nothing but a trail of disruption. For me the situation was a cocktail of activities and opportunities I had never dreamed about either doing or not doing. So here I was, this Nigerian lady of twenty-three trying to figure out my ‘new' life. Starting a relationship was never, ever part of my considerations. So how then did it eventually happen? Educational institutions had gone on break, most businesses and establishments asked to closed down or restrict opening hours and everyone ordered to stay indoors as much as possible to contain the spreading viral disease called COVID-19. But alone at home with little of my life the same as it was before the crisis, my world had transformed into something strange. I was at home doing nothing much except reading my books, catching up with old friends in town through social media and helping around with a little renovation with my siblings. Finding a traditional job that I could engage myself with around my neighborhood and beyond proved futile. It simply was a disaster. No one was hiring anyone new for a job. However, four months into my university break, I found something to do at home that I should say was fascinating: online freelance work. How I got into such a job sometimes makes me wonder but it all started with a friend of mine back from secondary school called Felix. He had sent me a Facebook message asking if I could help him out with some writing gigs. After my initial negative reply which was based on my little experience with creative writing, I agreed to help him. Back in secondary school, Felix was the most captivating of all the boys in my class and I considered him the most brilliant. Once in a while he would top the class but his periodic genius mind wasn't what started our friendship back then. Rather, it was his love for writing and drawing that got my attention. Some probing and demanding on my part made him finally take me as his apprentice. Weeks later, just as I was making some progress with these creative skills, I decided to quit. My love interest in art had gone and in its stead a close friendship had formed between me and Felix. I didn't feel I had it in me to be an artist of any sort or so I thought. Still I occasionally practiced when I needed a break from some stressful things. My first client was a lady, Felix's friend. She requested for a drawing of her boyfriend ahead of his birthday coming up in two weeks. A simple but unique piece of art was my first product in this new world of commerce and it was highly appreciated by many. I did many more interesting gigs after that but the most heartwarming was a love letter I wrote for a girl whose father had survived COVID-19. She cried after reading it stating it was the most love filled message she had read in a long time. Felix had told me about it in the happiest voice and for once in a long while I was moved by that knowledge. Many times I had to refer to the internet for tips on how to go about some projects. And like a mentor that he was, Felix was there to guide me through it all. He shared tips, experience, techniques with me that would help bring better results than the last projects. A year later since I started this new journey I found myself not so enthusiastic about it. It's like I had lost my love and interest for this phase and experience of my life that I felt so withdrawn. True, it was very demanding especially on my creative abilities but I sadly realized I was not in my most unique and comfortable zone. And so like years before, I decided to quit. I sent Felix a message in June, 2021, thanking him for everything: the teaching, support, advice and of course friendship. I told him in the nicest way that I wasn't ready to continue down this road of entrepreneurship, As a second-year nursing student my future career still obsessed me and I did not want to let that go. I did make a request to him that I wanted to be his official business partner in the art industry in future. More of a inactive one I reasoned. Sadly, he did not give a reply when I expected. I was hurt. I imagined he also had the same feeling of disappointment despite the confidence and encouragement he had given me and I still let him down. Some weeks later he responded. “I would gladly have you as my official business partner. Would you please accept my proposal to be my girlfriend?” he wrote back to me. Shock and surprise hit me as I digested the meaning of the message. I had a number of male friends but I had never dated or had a boyfriend before. This really was a first for me. I sent him an affirmative reply teasingly asking if he has had a girlfriend before. He said yes: me, in those days when we were in secondary school. And so that's how my love journey began with a guy called Felix. And till now, we are still going on strong in our relationship.

It is not my right to say that I have come to conclusions about everything in life. However, there is a thing that keeps me always alert about relationships. It is a simple but very delicate thing called trust. There is always a part of our heart that goes with the person we trust to. Here I do not mean only our life partner or friends. Our siblings, parents, blood relatives, and all people we have known for the longest time could be the people we end up concealing our feelings from. Things like we crave to share, meanwhile realizing they will misunderstand us. Ironically, we trust our feelings or thoughts to some strangers on social media by sharing Instagram stories about our state of mind, composing heartfelt posts on Facebook, or via other means of social communication. Some of us block a family member on social media in the first place just because we do not want to explain the reasons why we do not trust them. Sometimes, the people we care about the most turn out to be the people we cannot wholly trust. Just think about it.

She needs to trust me. I'm telling the truth. “Wait!” I shout, as I follow my friend -well, we were friends 1 minute ago- who barged out the door. She continues to ignore me, acting as if i'm not desperately trying to get her attention so we can sort things out. I walk faster in the school halls, letting my feet go after her. She needs to understand that I wasn't lying. Everything I told her was and still is true. Besides, she just finished telling me 2 minutes ago how much she hates the other girl, and now she believes her and not me? I take another big step forward and grab her shoulder, trying to stop her from walking away from the problem. She wrenches her arm away from me. “I didn't lie,” I tell her, my hands fumbling with my lunchbox but my eyes searching her face. “I wouldn't do that.” “I don't believe you, I believe her,” my friend says. I'm getting the hint that we aren't friends anymore. It's messed up how just a few minutes ago, we were. “You have to understand that I wouldn't lie about that and especially not to you,” I say quickly, rushing what I have to say so she doesn't decide to simply leave. “She would confess if she did talk bad about me like you said,” she responds, her fierce eyes piercing into mine. “But I never said she was talking bad about you. I said I heard her talking with the other girl and that she always talks about you.” I look behind me to make sure no one else can overhear our conversation. “You don't have to believe me if you want but i'm telling the truth-” “I can tell when she's lying. And she wasn't,” she says, hatred and envy clear in her voice. I want to tell her that she's making a mistake. I want her to know that I would never lie to her. I care about her like good friends are supposed to. I want to go back to how our friendship was less than 5 minutes ago. But I can't. But why doesn't she trust me? Before I get the chance to say something, she speaks up. “I'm leaving.” Her tone is plain, dry and dismissive. I stutter, all alone, as I watch her walk away from me, not even bothering to say goodbye. Yesterday she texted me and wrote that she loves me, in the way that friends do, of course. I wonder if she feels the same way I do when we text, smiling nonstop, overwhelmed with joy that she actually cares about me, And filled with warmth as I fully realize that we are truly good friends. Now today, I feel the total opposite of that. I feel empty and cold inside, sad yet angry at the same time, trying to figure out who's fault this is. I sigh, forcing myself to hold back my tears. I shift my mood and head to the other room, acting as if everything is normal and I didn't just lose someone I deeply care about. When I arrive home, I decide to text her, careful of my choice of words: “Hey u don't have to believe me but I hope yk that I was telling the truth. I wouldn't ever lie to u, cuz I actually care. I'm always here whenever u want to talk tho. Bye and see u tmr ig” Holding my breath, I rethink whether it was worth sending that. I know her well enough that whenever she's angry at someone, nothing good is going their way. I want to unsend it, the rush of uncertainty I'm getting is too much. What if she's laughing at my text right now, showing everyone and thinking of how much of a pathetic fool i'm acting like now? It's too late to go back though. Days, weeks even, pass by and still, no reply. I know for sure, she saw the text but I try to make myself believe that maybe she didn't see it. Maybe she forgot to answer back., or she's sleeping, or her phone died? It's becoming less and less likely though, as time goes by. I'm still holding on tightly to the thread of hope that we can become friends again. But it seems to me as if she doesn't care the slightest and has already moved on, as I watch her sit with a girl she once told me she hates with all her soul. I feel as though she needs me more than she thinks and she'll soon realize. But once again, I find myself questioning if it's really the other way around. Frequently, the good and precious memories we have made together, flood my head. I wonder how she's feeling right now, about all of this between her and I. Us hugging, texting, talking, laughing until our stomachs hurt. I wonder if it will ever be like that again, and if it could, will she let it, will she give our friendship another chance? It's her choice since I know very well that I'd run straight back to her the moment she allows it. It's always on and off with everyone i've ever met, I wonder when it will just stay on. It doesn't seem like too much to ask. I wonder when she'll come back to me, back in my life and we can be friends again, true friends since I never seem to be able to find or keep those. But for now, during our time apart that I'm not quite sure how long it will last or if it will ever even end... She needs to trust me. I'm telling the truth.

I lay on the hospital bed, while the cold wind buffets against the door, and the trees outside the back window shake so violently I can hear the branches crack through the thick pane of glass. But it's not the storm outside that is keeping me awake. It's the storm inside. The thought, the regrets, the memories. Francesco is still lying unconscious on the bed next to mine. And you're dead Zacharia; you, my best friend, are dead, and there's nothing I can do to bring you back. How could it happen? How could they murder you, right in front of my eyes? Why would they? Just because you were black? And, as I listen to the soothing bleeps and clicks of the hospital's machinery, it all comes back; all the memories. Sharp as the moonlit blade, overturning the morphine's dizziness. It started as a normal Saturday evening out with friends. We picked you up right after your long shift at the restaurant ended. You enjoyed working there. “It's my art,” you always said, smiling. “I can prepare a Heaven-worthy meal for the mortals”. And it also helped make ends meet for your family. “Next week it's my mother's birthday!” you said as soon as you got in the car. There was a certain glint in your eyes, the shiny energy of a million stars. “This time I want to impress her. It's her 50th birthday.” Francesco floored the accelerator, and the old Citrus jumped to life, letting out an unimpressive roar. “What do you want to buy her?” He asked. “I still don't know. I've been putting away all my savings for the last eight months. It has to be memorable, you know? We couldn't afford a decent present for the last five years.” “What about a robot vacuum cleaner?” I suggested. Bracing, cold air rushed in from the cracked windows, mussing up my hair, making me feel unstoppable. God, if I only knew. “It could be a nice idea. I'll talk about that to my sister.” And we dropped that conversation there. We were chatting and walking along via Pia to reach our favorite Pub when we heard the tires screech on the road, the loud thump of doors closing violently, some incomprehensible shouts. And then they were there before we could even make a move. “Il Branco” (The pack) as they are known in the city. All four of them, all bigger than us, all trained fighters. “Where are you going, rats?” They wanted to take revenge on Francesco for not paying them the money they had asked. One of them pushed him against a corner and started punching him. That's when you intervened. You threw your skinny body between those punches and your friend to defend him from getting mauled by those animals. And then you became their prey. They were raging with anger; incapable of grasping the strength and nobility of your soul. How dared a black son of immigrants stands in the way of four white, “strong”, Italian men? I could see the fury in their eyes, their deep desire to make other people suffer, and it was so inhumane that I felt completely terrified. The first punch landed on my face, throwing me to the ground. For a moment it felt like I was flying, and then – before I'd ever fallen – I vomited. The pavement was strangely warm to the touch, almost like a blanket, and for a bit, I couldn't think of anything else but the pain radiating from my head -- and then, the numbness spread all over my body as one of them repeatedly kicked me. Later on, the cops will ask me how much time I remained there, laying on the pavement, and I won't be able to answer them. All I know is that I was still on the ground, crouched in the fetal position when I heard it: your last cry. It was terrible. The physical pain was replaced by something far more raw. An agonizing sound that pulled at my insides, scarring my soul with sharp glass shards, making me want to stop existing. I stood up swaying, while the world around me pulsed slowly, like a giant heart. Shouts and screams filled the summer air, increasing the pain in my concussed head. As I staggered and stumbled over the pavement, barely avoiding another punch, I saw you. And I saw blood. You were in a pool of blood, unconscious, the clothes ripped off your tiny frame. I almost blacked out then. All I remember is the expression of pain in your eyes – the faith you had in humanity shattered by a pack of monsters. And I can't tell if I imagined it or not, but there was also a tiny glint of light and hope in those eyes, something unbreakable -- the last remainder of that million stars' energy. Maybe it was the light of someone who knows he lived and died as a hero. Thomas Edison's last words were: “It's very beautiful over there.” I don't know where it is, but I believe it's somewhere, and I'm sure it's beautiful. Note: I changed all the names for privacy concerns. As I finish writing this story, I can't stop crying. My keyboard is full of tears, but writing helped me unburden some of the pain. If you're looking at me, Zacharia, just know that I love you. Rest in peace, Angel. (20/10/1999–06/09/2020).