~prologue~

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22 February 2010.

The afternoon sun saturated the prison edifice in its golden, cosy light. Specks of dust particles seemed to dance in the shaft of the bright glow, slanting the prison windows.

The blotched sun seeped through the canopy of tall trees scattered around the prison wall, creating mysterious and grotesque shadows of the heavily breathing prisoners.

A group of wild prisoners encircled Christabel, each deriving fun from her wounded form.

"I'm going to kill her!" A woman shrieked and booted Christabel in the stomach ruthlessly.

Swivelling, she kicked Christabel hard. As she turned one could see the prison badge emblazoned with a black number onto her breast pocket.

Unsteadily, she placed her palm on her stomach. "Urgh, it hurts, please save me," her lips throbbed and trembled in pain. The effect of the pain disseminated through her body, making her quiver in fear. Pools of tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her face.

Others began to attack her.

She struggled to free herself from their stronghold but it seemed they were much powerful. "Please don't kill..." She was unable to clinch her pleas before she was punched on the head.

Christabel swerved her eyes unconsciously as gushes of pain jolted throughout her body, her stomach ached, her arms lost tension and her legs began to weaken. The world reeled before her eyes as her sight became blurry and her brain instantly became numb. Saliva dripped from her traipsed mouth and made a dappled conference at her jaw.

A woman came forward and scream some words into her ear.

Christabel could only register her scream as a foreign voice, more like faint echoes.

"Yes...I...can," Christabel replied.

"Better." The woman smirked. Skillfully, she jacked her legs with her short elbow. She must've been an ex-pro wrestler.

"I promise I will not inter...fere with..." She replied and dropped to the arid ground. Bruised, battered, and wounded, with a leg in agony, she managed to swallow some saliva.

"Kudos, Tutu!" Others hailed. "Next time she will know better than to cross our path," They chorused. "She is too full of herself!" Some screeched.

Christabel could only hear the swoon sounds of their actions, her stomach, head, and nose hurt badly. More sweats trickled down her body as her vision became more blurry. She tried to protect her dim eyes from the bright ray of the sun just when another hit came her way.

Phew! Phew!

"Hurry up! Police guards are coming." The giant woman announced upon hearing the officers whistles.

Hurriedly, they carried Christabel's almost lifeless body and clambered up the fence - a colossus fence enclosed the wall they ascended. As soon as they got to the other end they tossed her weak body on the prison's grass.

Christabel couldn't retaliate, her head rang with headache, splitting her brain with numbness, like the ringing of a Catholic church bell. Her body ailed like a kid who was attacked by a massive earthquake.

"Can you recognize our face? I bet you can't and if you do, latch your mouth when the police officers interrogate you, if you don't, your punishment will be direr than the tip of an iceberg you just encountered." The short woman cautioned.

With that, they scurried off, leaving Christabel's rigid body behind. Christabel was glad but the pains didn't let her dance to the happy tune of her glee.

"No. 40, what happened? Why are you like this?" A police guard who was on patrol inquired. Her black shirt and trouser encrusted and designed with a gold embroidery, police uniform fit her physique perfectly. Her black cap which was designed with a tiny white strip stood fixed on her round ghana weaving. Her multi-coloured whistle was inserted in a tiny black rope and tied around her chubby neck. Her whistle swung from left to right as she checked Christabel's body.

With her well-polished black boots, she took a step forward and fetched out her phone. "We got an emergency, get the ambulance ready!" She shouted over the phone.

Bending down she opened Christabel's eyes with her finger. "Are you alright? hold on, the ambulance will soon get here." The policewoman comforted, rocking her hand which was covered with gloves, soothingly around Christabel's back.

Christabel hoped she could reply but the heavy lumps in her throat won't permit her. Slowly, almost like the catwalk of tired snail darkness eluded her.

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The sirens from the ambulance and police car woke Christabel.

"Let's take her into the hospital!" The attending police guard said, glancing at Christabel's body laid on the stretcher.

Flickering her eyes open, Christabel stood up in a swift movement. With all her feeble might, she hit and jabbed the police guards that encircled her, the sentimental pain she felt was nothing correlated to the beatings she just experienced - it can't be compared, not at all. Breathing heavily, she quickly took to her speed, running as fast as her wobbly legs could carry her.

The anger that burst through her heart upon the flickering of painful memories kept her running. After all, all the beating was just a tip of what she was already made to face, was just a stub of the outrageous recollections. So why won't she run? Run to the person where her acreages of resentment were pointed at, even if crawling with her wounded body was what it demanded, then so be it. Why will she stop because of the pains in the beatings she was used to? There are other places to run to, so why not run with the last ounce of energy her body wielded?

Why not?

"Hey, prisoner. No. 40, stop!" The alerted attending police officer screamed after her. She instantly brought out her phone and notified other officers about what happened.

Hastily, the police officers conducted an immediate search: sending out her pictures to other officers.

Being chased was nothing like the movies: The hot afternoon air shocked Christabel's throat and lungs as she inhaled deeper, faster. Her whiff came in small surges - heated and nervous. She felt the will of her fright and tension to run far beyond what exercise could ever demand. She must accomplish her motive, even if it might be her last action on earth.  

Fallen, dry leaves crunched under her feet. Her prison uniform looked frayed. Tiredly, her soul crashed into an asphalt a few times before she transitioned to the balls of her feet. Her black braids swung in motion with the moving air.

It is now or never! It seemed the chasers were out of view. Her long legs broke from beneath and collapsed unto the nearest bench - placed before an old shop.

Regaining her lost breath. "Hey, girl, please can I make use of your cellphone?" She asked a teen. Christabel sure looked like a person who was declared wanted in a mental hospital. She earned the flummox stares of the onlookers and observers but she cared less.

"Su...su...re, you can." The girl answered, sceptically and handed the old Itel phone she was using to her.

"Oh! Thanks." Christabel appreciated, before proceeding to give Favour a call, she picked it on the second ring.

Peering for any police officers in sight she told her where she was and returned the phone to the owner whose eyes were observing her.

Christabel sighed and wondered when her life turned from vaguely worse to the far rotation of heart-wrenching worse. It will surely be now or never! Monica must not go scot-free. Closing her eyes, she let memories flood through her brain - painful recollections.

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"Do you know this is hazardous Christy?" Favour said once they were inside her car. "I am scared. Can I do this?" Favour panicked.

"Don't be, all you have to do is to take me to the wedding centre you can go from there, I will call you later with the warder's phone." Christabel rushed out, almost in a gust.

Wedding? Yes!

"So, you have learned about the wedding, who told you?" Favour inquired. "Those crazies prisoners beat you up like this?"

"The officers are catching up! Favour! Drive faster!" Christabel cried out.

Promptly, Favour increased the speed of the car. She pronto asked Christabel to wear the black trouser and top with the black face cap and makeup she had earlier packed. Realizing she forgot to pack a shoe, she gave Christabel the black boot she wore.

"Drop the makeup bag on the back seat after you are done with it." Favour said and took a sharp turn to the left.

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Forthwith after Christabel got to the wedding centre she obliterated the irksome thing she saw first - the wedding banner. Her eyes lids were tinted heavily with mascara and eyeliner. Her dressing, the excess makeup, and her ferocious gaze gave her the perfect look of a modernized assassin.

Walking like a murderer on a precarious mission she quickly sent a quick message to the bride - with Favour smartphone.

The bride was fully dressed, completely ready to scatter the party with her ravishing beauty when her phone whizzed. Elatedly, she checked the message hoping it was somebody who wanted to wish them a fruitful wedding. Her nicely painted fingers trembled when she read the message. Her body shivered, her heart beating in total terror.

From Zach; the police officer, come to the rooftop before I reveal it all.

Monica tossed the phone and ran as fast as her leg could carry her. Her sparking-white gown flowed behind her. Her body trembled in fear. Her mind became unsettled. "No, it can't be! Or can it... No!" She shouted running without glancing back.

On getting to the rooftop she pivoted her neck in search of Zach. Panic had built a huge skyscraper in her fear-gripped heart. Her panic aggravated when she saw Christabel coming towards her - with murderous stares. Shock widening her narrowed eyes that so easily became creamy. She blinked her eyes rapidly as if she had just seen a ghost.

At a time, she took three steps backwards, her heartbeat was erratic. "Step back! Don't come closer!" She mumbled.

"I knew you would come," Christabel replied folding her feeble hands.

Monica trembled. "How dare you!" She screamed.

"You sent me an invitation card, so I came."

Still moving backwards. "You came because of the invitation card I sent your way? You left prison because of that?" Monica raised questions.

"You intended to make me jealous! What are you afraid of? Are you afraid that your repulsive behaviours are known by other people?" Christabel inquired moving closer to Monica. The more she moved forward - with looping, confident strides, the more Monica shift back - reaching the end of the rooftop. Monica's legs itched inside the white, high heels she wore.

Taking a long heavy step she attacked Monica with her fingers. "If I were to die in prison, who will lose? Who will gain!" Christabel screeched.

Trying to free her jewelled neck from Christabel's steady grasp. "What happened occurred because you couldn't guard your own man, Christabel. I have liked Daniel from the time I could walk! I was here first! From the beginning, he was mine!" Monica screamed masking in her fear. Her pupils seemed to flicker around in the white of her eyes.

"From the beginning he was yours but why did you have to send me to prison? Is it because you killed her! His kin!" Christabel shrieked, flaring anger boiled in her blood, making her body rose in blazing rage. Her eyes lingered on Monica's lips that shimmered with red lipstick - lips that sprout out disgusting words.

"Don't say those awful words! It was not me! it was you who did these terrible things, remember that was why you are in the prison!" Monica squealed. Shaking her head briskly. "No, I didn't kill her you did Christabel!"

"If you didn't kill her, what is it that made you afraid enough for you to run here? Like a prey that was chased by its predator! Are you happy to frame someone else for your atrocities?" Christabel's queried.

"Keep quiet, I didn't commit any crime so why should I frame you!" Monica howled pushing Christabel off.

"Isn't enough that you made me into this. How are my mom and Sarah? What are your plans with them," Christabel cried out. Her emotions were haywire. Oceans of tears wheeled down her face vaguely blinding her sight. "If you do anything with them, I promise I won't let you go scot-free, you will curse the day you were born!" Christabel growled in pure anger and absolute hurt, tightening her fingers firmly around Monica's neck.

"If you ki...ll me, you will be guilty of homicide. Do you wa...nt your sister to know, her only sis...ter didn't not only ki...ll Daniel kin she also killed his wife-to-be, I bet tha...t will be her thou..ghts."Monica coughed out.

Police officers trooped in the surrounding with their guns fully on alert to shoot any hindrance.

"Leave me alone, fool!" Monica screeched locking and pinching Christabel's physique.

Fool?

"I have nothing to lose, you have shattered me. I have nothing to be afraid of, nothing to fear!" Christabel let out tightening her grip on Monica's shoulder.

Christabel knew that Daniel will soon notice that the bride was not in sight and instincts will guide him to the rooftop after searching everywhere...and that was what happened;

"What are you two doing!" Daniel, the bridegroom inquired, confusion edged in his well-carved eyebrows.

"Daniel pl...ease save me, please! Sa...ve me from this prison mons...ter." Monica pleaded, tears wetting her makeup.

Releasing her grip from Monica's shoulder. "Tell him who did it! Tell him I am not the one! Clear my name! Tell him quickly!" Christabel screamed in pain.

"Stop it! How do you become like this Christabel? What can you change by doing this?" Daniel screamed

"Tell the truth, Monica! It was you who killed her! You killed and framed me for it."

Increasing the ratio of her tears. "Daniel she is lying! Why will I do such a thing!"

"Because your greediness will make you do anything for the love you had for him!" Christabel retorted.

"Why not ask for forgiveness, Christabel!" Daniel yelled.

Daniel's outburst undermined Christabel's heart. Hurt splashed her eyes. "Forgiveness? Didn't you say whatever I said you will believe it? Your promise is so weak."

On seeing the police officers surrounding them. "Monica tell the truth! The truth, please!" Christabel growled dragging her slapdash.

"Save me... Daniel, this girl is a liar!" Monica said between heavy sobs - smearing her black mascara, she tried to fight for freedom - freedom from Christabel's attacks.

Daniel's reply hung in the air when Monica erroneously pushed Christabel down the rooftop - amidst their pushes, drags, pinches and lockings.

Can we return to that time? The time where, when and after everything happened.

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So, how was the prologue?

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