Chapter 07|The ruled rather than the ruler

Chapter 07|The ruled rather than the ruler

Jasmine traced the picture of her uncle's picture with her dad laughing while sitting beside each other on the floor. It was her father's 8th year birthday and there has certainly not been a party because in their hands were guns, their body was sweaty from practice and she could almost imagine both boys rolling on the floor, playing like kids were meant to and poking fun at each other. Acting normal.

   She chuckled lightly even as she dropped the picture to the side and a tear dropped on the next picture she picked up. It was still that of her uncle and Dad on the same day but beside them was her grandfather, they looked nothing like the two children who had goofy smiles that were so wide and even comical.

   In place of their goofiness was just pure stoicism, their eyes didn't shine with pure delight and more importantly, they didn't look like they knew what childhood tasted like.

   Young would always tell her how he had to grow up way younger, man up and though he was younger than her Dad, he had to step into those difficult big oversized shoes even though all his life he had been trained to be second best, to rule beside his brother, not in front of him.

   She sniffed even as she wiped her running nostril with the back of her palm as all the tales her uncle had told her about how he tried hard to be better, to be faster, to be the best because in the Natives weakness was what it was and you are not inexcusable if you show any ounce of it. Your age, height? Lack of training? Nobody gave two fucks. You either kill or you are killed. That's the way it was.

   Nothing was fair.

  She used to find the tales of how he had to give up chocolates completely regardless of his sweet tooth, just so he could eat healthily and be stronger, amusing but most times after she had laughed hard at how he would always demonstrate how tightly he'll clench his eyes when he sees chocolate wrapper or sweets, in the dead of the night she couldn't help but blame her father for abandoning his brother, his weak little brother.

   But now, she was realizing that she didn't really have a beef that he left his brother because he did turn out fine. She dropped an evidence of that fact into the medium sized box with her uncle's name on top as other documents of the contract he had managed to win for them followed and documentation of other outfits he seized to enlarged theirs. She furiously wiped her tear as she threw in yet another framed picture of her dad with Young.

   Young would always call it the day he regretted yet wouldn't change a thing if he could go back in time. It was the day, Young had pressured her father and made him follow him to talk to a girl he likes.

   Young wasn't always bold and was once a stutterer, a mannerism you could consider cute and innocent. An innocence her father had tainted. An innocence Young had kept even at 22. An innocence that brought him his ruin as he never considered that his brother had fallen for the older sister of the woman he liked. An innocence he could keep because of his sole dependency on his brother who he never considered a figure in his life that wouldn't be present ever. His anchor and protector that he wanted to be good enough for, so while he trained hard to be worthy to be beside his brother, her father was ditching practice to see her mother in secrecy.

   He hadn't tried hard to even hide it from Young, who could never conceive the thought of his brother ever losing focus of his destiny, the crown, the Native, hence it was safe to say the affair had happened right underneath his nose yet he couldn't tell, an affair that led to her mother's pregnancy of her, yet her uncle had been completely clueless. He just wanted to be second in command and be close to his best friend and brother. Her Dad.

   And when he had run away, she could almost imagine him gaping into space just like she was. Seeing the empty drawer where his clothes had been the way she had seen his stiff cold body, reading the fucking I'm sorry note he had dropped for him while she had held his hand when he told her good-bye, yet even as she emptied her uncle's desk as was the custom and carried it to the attic where it would be placed next to his predecessors, she couldn't believe he was truly gone.

   That the enamel plate with half of his ash which she had not poured into the river, a fortnight ago was the only remains of the biggest and strongest man she knew, the man she wanted to be like, a man she had admired all her life.

   Not only was his strength admirable in the battlefield but now she could see that, wasn't where he was most strong. She would freak out if she was handed a child of a man that had abandoned him with scribbled three-letter words, but her uncle wasn't the type to fret.

   He had shown his most strength when he had held her hand and told him he'll be taking her home, shown the most strength when he had forced her to have her vegetables despite her tantrum, he had not flexed his muscles when he had read bedtime stories to her and tucked her into bed but she couldn't think of a man stronger at this time.

   Because she would prefer to kill a hundred times over than raise a child, disciplining a teenager who was always a handful and a criminal one at that, you can imagine how crazy the ride had been, but as always he had dived into the unknown waters with her ranging from squabbles to full-blown arguments.

   She felt spite for her father as she screamed out of the window that Young was gone after dropping his box and watched every Native throw their clay pot on the floor from the windows and then she lowered herself to the ground as she felt spite for the dead man for saving her.

   Both brothers had erred against her.

   Though they had chosen different paths they both had certainly agreed on making her take this path, leaving her a baton of a marathon she wasn't the least prepared for and they weren't even here for her to punish them as they deserved.

   They were gone.

   Dead.

   She angrily stood up walking back to the damn office she had hated as a child as she could remember standing outside the door and begging her uncle to come to the house and play with her. The office where she had been forbidden from entering now bore her name. She stared at the glass palate with the name Sir Jasmine and waited to feel something, something that wasn't despair, perhaps a bit uplifting but all she felt was anguish, betrayal, regret that she had stayed hidden in that closet like her mother had instructed and didn't just die with them.

   The perfect family reunion.

   Now, she had to live up to whatever madness her life was morphing into, she dropped the picture of her Dad and uncle smiling next to her name because it didn't matter the expression on both their faces, they have never really been truly happy all their lives.

   Always have been in fear and every minute had felt like it brought them closer to their end.

   Someone was going to pay for this, she kissed her uncle's favorite rifle and dropped it next to the picture. Taiwo was his name.

   That thought remained in her head even as she walked out of the door, and slipped her hand into Uncle Chidi who walked her to the door where in front of her waited the Native. Men who now looked up to her, whose lives she held in her hands, an overwhelming power that had so many regulations and rules, so much so you felt more like the ruled rather than the ruler.

   "I present to you, Your crown. Sir Jasmine Bankole."

   Everyone fell to the ground including Uncle Chidi even as she heard a gun sound in the distance.

   It was done. She was officially the president of the Native.

   This was ridiculous, this was risky and frightening. This was power. She loved every moment of the glorious indication that she was now running towards her death. A Sprint that made the sides of her lips curve.

   "You may rise!"

   They did.