Love to Hate You

By Oyinloye Michael Oluwatomisin

The metallic smell in the air made him queasy. As he remained on his knees, staring at his crimson-stained hands, his stomach was doing uncomfortable backflips. The sight of blood always did that to him.

He had never been a fan of blood. It was one of the reasons he avoided science class in secondary school—that and he didn't have the brains for it.

The reflection of red and blue from out the windows only served to make him more disoriented. The paramedics and the police arrived an hour ago and were still trying to make sense of it all. His apartment was always sparse and bare, but that night, it was filled with men and women clad in black or blue. Nosy neighbors from the top and bottom floors had converged by the stairs, murmuring and shaking their heads solemnly.

An officer walked up to him, probably updating him on happenings, but all he could hear was a high-pitched ringing that completely droned out the officer's monotone voice.

His eyes were fixated on the spot just outside the door of his apartment. There was no electricity, so it was hard to see anything, but his widened eyes saw it clearly. He couldn't get the image out of his head! She was just lying there, drowning in a pool of her own blood, and he couldn't do anything!

She was dead!

His neighbor was dead!

He moved into the two-bedroom apartment six months before she did. Those months were the only moments of peace he had. His previous neighbor worked 9-5, just like him, so they had a mutual understanding. They'd meet by the stairs on their way to work and occasionally during weekends. That was it.

His life wasn't perfect, but he had a bit of peace and serenity until she came along.

Dara Anuoluwapo, the bane of his existence.

She moved in on a Wednesday, and she immediately made her presence felt. He had just returned from his extremely boring job as an accountant for a private firm on Lagos Island. 

He took a shower and warmed up the food he bought from a local eatery on his way home. As soon as he sat down to eat, the loudest speakers he had ever heard blasted to life. It suddenly caused him to jump up, and his jollof rice poured all over the tiled floor. 

His next-door neighbor was rocking out to pop-punk music by 10 p.m.! The apartment walls weren't exactly thin, so the speakers must have been at maximum volume!

He wasn't one to cause a scene, and he didn't want any trouble, so he gave his new neighbor the benefit of the doubt. It was probably a one-time thing. She was just preoccupied.

Except she continued blasting loud music all week!

By Saturday, he was at his limit! He didn't spend almost 8 hours crunching numbers and balancing books, then an extra 4 hours stuck in Lagos traffic, just for his neighbor not to let him rest in his own apartment!

That night, he found himself at her doorstep, banging on her door furiously. He didn't know how he looked, but he could guess the worry lines on his forehead were prominent. His jaw was probably clenched, and his brows knitted, the way they always were when he was pissed.

The door opened slightly, and the full force of the music hit him like a freight train. How was she living in such conditions? He couldn't even hear himself think!

Dara poked her head out from behind the door curiously. She must have known who he was because she opened her door fully.

It was the first time he saw her, and she looked nothing like he imagined. Due to her constant noise pollution, he built up this image of her in his head: shower cap on her head, remnants of heavy makeup, thick eyelashes that looked like a crow's feathers, scanty clothes that'd make a nun avert her eyes, uneven, patchy skin tone.

She looked nothing like that.

She packed her hair up in a ponytail, and her face was devoid of makeup. She wore a simple sweatshirt over matching pants. She was breathtakingly beautiful in every sense of the word. His words got caught in his throat. He didn't even remember why he was there.

He must have been staring for a while. She raised an eyebrow quizzically and said, "Well? What do you want?" Her voice sent shivers down his spine. He gulped nervously. He was suddenly conscious of how his breath smelled and how he looked.

"Can't you speak?" Dara's tone was that of impatience. It was enough to snap him out of the spell he was caught in. 

"Ehm, I'm your neighbor," he started. Why was his voice suddenly high-pitched?

"Ehen?"

"Your music is disturbing me! Can't you be civil and turn it down? How can you even be listening to that nonsense without getting a headache?" He just realized he had to shout for Dara to hear him.

She eyed him up and down like he was nothing, hissed, and slammed the door in his face. He had never been more angry before in his life! He was beyond furious! He banged on her door even harder. She didn't answer! That didn't deter him. He kept knocking with even more fervor!

"Mr. Man, what's your problem?!"

He gasped and blinked rapidly. He was back in his crowded apartment. The officer from before was by his side. The security personnel had been talking for a while, but he was lost in his thoughts.

"Are you listening to me?" the officer asked.

"Ehn? Yes, yes, I am," he responded. His hands were already starting to shake violently.

"I said we've found the murder weapon," the officer's voice wasn't monotone and uninterested like before. He had a Ziploc bag in his clutches, and in it was a bloody knife.

Wait, knife? 

That was from his kitchen! He recognized it because he rarely cooked, so he knew all his kitchen utensils! It had gone missing mysteriously a few days back.

Was that why the officer was observing him with scrutiny?

"Mr. Awolowo, you're under arrest for the murder of Miss Dara Anuoluwapo…"

Writer’s Biography
Oyinloye Michael Oluwatomisin is a 22-year-old undergraduate studying Mathematics at the University of Lagos, Akoka. He enjoys creative writing because it's an outlet for him to express his ideas and the worlds he has built in his head. 

He's a big fan of fantasy, science fiction, action and drama, and he feels these genres aren't as represented as they should in mainstream Nigerian writing. He hopes to be the one to bridge the gap with novels in the near future, and he's actively working towards completing his stories and being published by a reputable writing agency. 

His interest in writing was piqued when he first read Percy Jackson and the Olympians. It completely changed his life and inspired him to start writing properly. He enjoys reading, writing, watching movies, TV shows and anime, listening to music, and sleeping. Most of his interests revolve around writing and consuming creative media.