Bitter Inheritance

 

What do you do when your life seems to be in shambles and nothing seems to be working out?

This was the question that ran through Josephine's mind everytime she managed to get an alone time which was often, seeing as she had no close friends and often kept to herself most of the time.

Today, she laid on the bed in her empty apartment—empty because apart from the ragged mattress on which she lay on, there was nothing else in the room—thinking about her life.

When did it all go wrong? How did it go wrong and why was life dealing with her so harshly?

At twenty-six years of age, she could not point to one good thing she had accomplished. She could not keep a job longer than three months and she always had cause to spend her savings on an impromptu emergency.

Sure she had managed to graduate from university and obtained a degree in political science, but at what cost?

Her mother who had sacrificed everything just for her to get a good education, passed away when she was in her second year in the university. Her dirtbag of a father had been absent in her life from the day she was born. 

The only thing she knew of her father was that he swept her mother off her feet when she was younger, impregnated her when she was in secondary school, causing her to drop out and disowned by her strict parents, then he only stayed long enough till she was born. After that, he disappeared to God knows where.

Her mother used to cry every night and curse her father.

“Men are useless!” She would lament. “Trusting a man can never lead to anything good. They will only hurt you.”

Then she would hold Josephine, look deep into her eyes with tears streaming down hers and make her promise not to follow any man.

“Promise me, Josephine. Promise me that you won't allow any man deceive you, promise me that you'll focus on your goals and not be swayed by any man!”

“I promise.” Josephine would say, feeling confused and heartbroken about seeing the state her mother was in.

Then, her mother would hug her tight and continue sobbing.

Though her mother never said anything of sorts, but she couldn't help feeling like her mother's plight was her fault. If she had never been born, her parents might still be together and her mother would not weep every night.

Her mother was her world and that world crumbled on that tragic day in October when she got the news that her mother slumped, hit her head hard and passed away.

She was in shock for weeks and couldn't function properly. 

Suddenly, the future looked bleak. All her plans to give her mother a better life went down the drain and she almost gave up on life too but was unfortunately stopped in time.

Twice, she had tried to take her own life after that tragic day, and twice her attempts have been thwarted.

The first time was a day after her mother's burial. She sat face ashen in her mother's living room as mourners and well-wishers came and offered their condolences. 

As she sat there, numb, grief-stricken and distressed, she couldn't stop the tears from pouring, nor the suicidal thoughts that came to her head.

Without warning, she stood up like someone in a trance, walked to the kitchen, grabbed a butcher knife and slit her wrist long ways. 

She was so numb that she felt no pain even as the blood gushed out like a pipe that burst. 

She stood there watching her arm bleed out and hoping it would bleed enough to eventually kill her.

But it didn't. Instead, she was discovered by a panicked neighbour who raised an alarm immediately and was rushed to the hospital where she was stitched.

“You are very lucky to have been brought here when you were. One moment later, and it would have been a different case.” The doctor had said.

‘Lucky indeed’ She thought. 

Nothing about her life was lucky.

Her second attempt was a month later after the first attempt, in school. 

She believed she would have more success within the confines of her hostel, since she had no friends or anybody checking up on her, but boy was she wrong.

She didn't lock the door so that days later, when her actions would later be discovered, it would not be difficult to get inside and retrieve her body. 

Big mistake!

Looking back now, she regretted not locking the door, because just as soon as she had emptied the entire bottle of sniper inside a cup and was about to take it, a strong wind swung her door open and a curious neighbour who happened to be passing at that moment, looked inside and saw what she was about to do, she screamed. 

“Josephine! Isn't that a bottle of sniper? You want to drink sniper?” She screamed loud enough to draw the other neighbours attention.

She thought she could quickly pour the drink in her mouth, but she was overpowered by the lady and other swift neighbours who had rushed to the scene. 

She was put in counselling after that.

Tears flowed freely down her face as she thought about what terrible fate she had been given. 

She wished she was never born. Life would have definitely gone smoothly for her mother if she had never been born. 

She heard her neighbours voices outside but she didn't pay attention. She was too wrapped up in her own sorrow to pay attention to anybody else, but then she heard a knock.

That was odd. People barely knocked on her door so she thought it might be a mistake. 

Then the knock came again and she listened to the voices.

“Are you sure this is her room?” Someone asked and one of her neighbours answered.

“Yes, that's her room.”

“And she's home?”

“Yeah, she is. She's always home. Maybe you should knock again.”

The person knocked again and she stood up with a frown, wiped her face and cautiously made her way to the door.

She opened the door wide enough to stick her head out. 

She gave the well-dresssed, briefcase holding man standing there a cursory glance and arched her brow in question.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you Josephine Hart?” The man asked and she studied him carefully and suspiciously before nodding slowly.

“That's a relief. I've been looking for you for days.”

As the man spoke, she became increasingly aware of her neighbours eavesdropping. Some of them watched from their windows, some pretended to be going about their business but she knew they were listening, while others—the bolder ones—stood at their doorway watching.

She was nervous and forced herself to return her attention to the man who was now reading something from some papers he brought out of his briefcase.

“…I, Samuel Harris leave all my inheritance worth thirty million to my only daughter Josephine Hart who…”

She stopped listening again, thinking this must be a prank. Who was playing such a prank on her? 

But looking closely at the serious-looking man, she knew it could not be a prank. This man was a lawyer and Samuel Harris was her father. Her dirtbag father who left the day she was born, leaving her mother a mess, her dirtbag father who had become a millionaire and apparently passed away and now left all his inheritance to her.

She could not take it anymore and everything seemed funny to her. Suddenly, she burst into a violent laughter. 

She laughed so hard that she fell on her side.