Disobedience Gone Wrong

Each time I see the scar on my brother's leg, I can't help but recall the tragic event that gave him that scar. He's twenty now, a full-grown man, but beyond the muscles and broad chest, a quiet memory lay somewhere in his eyes. Something we rarely talk about but can't deny that there came a time we almost lost him.  **Image Source: ChatGPT** My mother had sternly warned that morning, pulling her ears so we all could see how serious she was. “Do not go out of this house. The TV is here, and food is in the kitchen. If you need anything, ask Daddy Miracle to call me with his phone.” We sat quietly, with innocent eyes, as calm as the most humble puppies on Earth. My younger brother, my immediate elder sister, and I. But in our minds? Well, who knew with children? My mother faced the mirror in the living room and continued to adjust her scarf. We thought she was done speaking until she glanced at my sister through the mirror. “Mercy. I'm leaving these children in your care.” Mercy nodded like an obedient lamb, sending quick warning glances to my brother and me. She knew who she called her siblings, and she knew she'd need to draw our ears shortly after my mother left. My mother handed some naira notes to Mercy to get us biscuits, and with that, picked her handbag from the couch and headed out. My brother and I returned to our favourite cartoon, Shrek, while Mercy made for her room. I must admit that Mercy loved her room so much that it could pass for a bestie. Although she spent much time in her room, she returned to the living room intermittently to check on us, studying our faces and expressions to be sure we were still the obedient siblings she had earlier instructed. After some time, we didn't see her again. The cartoon ended. We tried to surf other TV channels but nothing amusing was displayed. We dropped the remote and marched to the kitchen to get our meal. After eating, we put down our dishes and began to look at our faces. Elijah, my brother looked like a caged cub. He was unhappy and restless. I knew what he wanted — play. But I was scared of Mommy's long whips. Or her resounding slaps. I was scared of Daddy hearing that we disobeyed our mother. So what was I to do? I buried the thoughts of sneaking out — while they were still fresh. And somehow, as if controlled by a remote, I picked up my novel and found the nearest three-seater couch. I can't say how long I lay there, slumbering, yet ignoring the call of nature, but shortly after, everything became blank. It was my mother's scream that jerked me up from the land of sleep. I didn't know how I managed to sit up straight, but I remember staring, with groggy eyes, as my brain rebooted slowly. I didn't understand why she was back so early or why Elijah was nowhere to be found. My mother left me for the inner room, but before she'd return, Mercy had rushed into the living room. Her face was clothed with fear, her heart almost jumping out of her chest. “What happened? Where's Elijah? Why is Mom screaming?” Too many questions. My eyes were clear but not my head. I turned to my left, but Elijah was not at the spot he was before I fell asleep. Then Mommy returned, crying this time, rushing out of the house. She paused at the door and turned to us. “Mercy, I left these children in your care. How could you allow Elijah to go out of the house?” Mercy and I exchanged confused looks, but my mother didn't help our curiosity because she stormed out. We quickly rushed out, there my brother lay on the floor, groaning in pain, with my neighbour attending to him. His leg had a deep cut, as if he had fought with a lion. My neighbour lifted him and put him in his car. My Mom entered next, sitting next to him. I was moved to tears, seeing the pain in my brother's eyes, worse still, seeing how he was trying to suppress the scream. Suddenly, he burst into tears, crying for help as my neighbour started the ignition. My sister and I gradually withdrew to the bare ground, thinking deeply. How did this happen? We later discovered that my brother had sneaked out to go play with his friends outside the gate and was bitten by a dog. Thankfully, my mother had just alighted from the motorcycle to witness my brother groaning in pain. That was how she was able to rescue the situation. Many years later, he's still here. Though the pain is gone, the scar is still here to remind us of the music he once danced to.