chapter 3

Wole spent most of the remaining week crying in his luxurious room. Now that his father was gone, the thought of going back home was far from him. When he looked at the definition of home with his dad out of the picture, what was left was him going back to somewhere equivalent to suffering and sorrows all over again. Probably the people that murdered his father may seek for his death as well. He knew that his father would want him to be safe and above all happy. He resulted to stay with Charles. Besides, he had nowhere else to go. He didn’t even know the exact location of where he was, so if he leaves he would probably be picked up again by kidnappers or this time something worse. He couldn’t just turn down Charles, now that he needed him the most. A man who made sure that he was given everything he had asked for since he arrived. That was enough hospitality to know that he was wanted not to be compared to the cruelty he endures at home.                                                “I love you daddy, I will always love you”, he said to the photograph on his hands. Right now that was his most treasured and most-valuable item. It was the last memory he has of his late father. If he leaves this place he had no uncles or aunts to run to, for him, it would be back to Kate. He was still looking at the photograph when he had an asthma attack. He was losing oxygen and fast. He scoured the room with his eyes for his backpack so he could get his inhaler. He fell down to the floor sliding his way to get to the bag. Before he could get himself to drag a puff, he went unconscious.                                                                                                     “How is he sir”, said Miss Chika. She was one of the maids that worked for Charles at the warehouse. Luckily for Wole, he had gotten into the hospital and was immediately operated on before any critical damage was actually made. Medically, it only applied in some very few cases that rather 1 in every 12 persons who had sustained an asthma attack, survived without their inhaler.the airways become swollen and inflamed. It was termed a scientific miracle because the muscles around the airways contract and the airways produce extra mucus, causing the breathing (bronchial) tubes to narrow.   Wole was among those scarce set of people that got miraculous recoveries. “He is still unconscious madam. He would have to spend the night here so that we can properly observe him. By tomorrow, if his state is progressive and proves to be stable, he would be discharged”, said the doctor.

Chika had gone into Wole’s room consecutively to when he had gone unconscious bringing with her, his evening meal. At the sight of the boy on the ground in a unusual manner and position she was affirmative that wasn’t sleep. She dropped the dish that she was carrying on her hands and made a call to Charles. She made sure to use his international line. “What is it?”, barked Charles from the other end of the phone call. “it-it-it-it-it is that boy that you brought here a week ago Sir. I entered his room to give him his evening meal when I found him lying face flat on the ground, Sir. What do you insist I do?”. “Wait a second, you mean to say that the boy just dropped dead or what?”. “Sir, he is not dead it’s just that…….”. Before Chika could finish up her statement, Charles roared at her. He told her to get him into Ben’s car and give him instructions that he said that he should drive him off to the best hospital around. Ben was his personal driver. “Remember to keep me posted alright, and oh jenny, make sure he is comfortable till I get back”, he said putting an end to the call.  “You are lucky to have gotten him here on time and he is still alive. Medically, after about 7 minutes without the use of an inhaler during an attack, the asthmatic patient would be drawn into a state of unconsciousness before gradual deaths of body organs would commence”, said the doctor.

“By the way, who is he to you? By the medical scan it is clear that he isn’t your son”. “I’m a friend to his father. His father dropped him off at my place some few hours ago. He was hurrying up for a business trip”. “What of his mother, couldn’t……”.”She is late”, said Chika cutting him short. She had been working for Charles for about eight years now. In cases like this, she had been trained on what to say and do in order not to draw any suspicion or unwanted attention. Wole woke up four hours later. His eyes slowly opened at first and then his arms slowly began to move. “Where am I”, he said struggling to sit upright. “Doctor….doctor”, shouted Chika. She quickly sent a message to Charles. The time was a few minutes past 11PM. She was not aware that the doctor’s shift was over. She ran into the lobby to get a nurse to attend to her.                                                                                                                         

“How do you feel now?”. “Where am I and who are you?”, said Wole. He was completely off. “Don’t worry, you are safe. You are in a hospital. “Ahh!!”, exclaimed Wole. “My head hurts badly” he said. The nurse checked his body temperature and some other areas in his body to ascertain that the boy was fine. “That’s just a headache. It’s common after what he just went through. He needs to have some rest”. “What’s your name?”, she asked filling his hospital file. “My name.. My name..i can’t remember it. I can’t remember anything”, ”Ow!” he exclaimed trying to force back his old memories back. Both the nurse and Chika were shocked at his response. “Nurse, what does he mean by he cannot remember?”, asked Chika.