Like from a distance, I could hear my mother’s cry…more like wailings. She sounded like a wounded lion that was going to scream her heart out, as she repeatedly screamed my name… Adeola! Adeola! Adeola!! Unshaken I stood there staring at the body of my father….or at least the man who used to be my father, until a few minutes ago. I willed myself back to the room and the activity around me…the lifeless body of my father lay on the bed, with a knife poking out of his chest. The crimson color of his blood gradually taking over the once ash colored pajamas he wore. I had just stabbed my father in the chest…with a force ad precision that left no room for his survival. ******************************************************************************** The sound of the bell rang through the long corridors signifying the time for counseling sessions. Reluctantly I got up from my bed, dragging through the process of wearing my flops and throwing my shirt on. Buttoning up with the speed of a...