Dear Reader,

It’s our first time of meeting (and most probably our last), so I wouldn’t want to bore you with my life story. However, I’m having some issues I’d love to share with you if you don’t mind(after all, a problem shared, they say, is half-solved), and maybe, just maybe you might have a solution, an idea or a suggestion as to whether or not I should go ahead with my plans. Before I start my story though, why don’t we get some introductions done?

My name is Ifunanya (the Igbo word for ‘Love’) but everyone calls me Naya; I know you have so many names(any of which you take up at different times) so I’d rather call you ‘Reader’ to suit what you are at all times. I am a ten-year-old girl who lives in a suburban area of a large city in Nigeria with my parents and my only brother, Cheta (short for Chetachi - meaning ‘Remember God’). Did I mention that I am supposed to be in Jss1 when school resumes for the next session? Well, I really used to be a very happy girl until four years ago and I’ll tell you why.

I was an only child until Cheta intruded (forgive my manners, but that’s exactly what it happened)-I had that position all to myself for six years, being the apple of Dad’s eyes, Mom’s Princess and everyone’s favourite baby girl until that fateful Saturday afternoon. We were all in the living room - Dad watching a football match and screaming on top of his voice; Mom reading a novel with her hands extended above her bulgy stomach and finally little me, scribbling in my favourite scrapbook - when suddenly Mom groaned loudly, instantly drawing Dad’s attention to her. I don’t remember what they said to each other, but the next thing I knew, we were in Dad’s car on our way to the hospital with all that had earlier been packed in anticipation of the new baby. When we got there, Dad shouted out and some nurses in uniform immediately ran out to assist him take Mom into a room, after which he came back to get me from the car. I also can’t remember how long Dad carried me in his arms, pacing up and down the hospital corridor while muttering to himself before a doctor came out with a full smile on his face and exclaimed, ‘it’s a boy!’ And that was where my nightmare began. Before I knew what was going on, Dad dropped me on the ground as a nurse came out of a room with a tiny bundle and dropped it in Dad’s outstretched arms. I got ignored for the rest of the day until it was time to leave with Dad.

After Mom came home from the hospital the next day, things went sour - she and Dad would pet and play with the tiny baby, without even for once noticing that I was there. The only time I was remembered was when it was time to eat, or bath or sleep. It was particularly worse on the day of the baby’s naming ceremony- everyone totally ignored me and just kept fussing over a tiny baby in a colourful blanket.

At first, I thought “Well, he is just a new baby (after all, my parents must have fussed over me that much when I was born too); with time things would get better.” But they didn’t! Instead weeks and months crawled into years and nothing changed. Which do I tell and leave the others? The part about how I got punished countless times in school for not doing some of  my assignments because Mom and Dad ‘had no time’? Or about how they missed my speech-and-prize-giving ceremony last month because Cheta needed to be taken to the paediatrician and my parents had to go together? Or the one about Mom never having time to listen to my ‘boring talks’ about school anymore because Cheta needed her attention? The list is endless and I’m sure you don’t want me to bore you with all of that, so I’ll simply let you in on the most heartbreaking - the first day Ms. Chinyere touched me some months ago. She had been my favourite teacher until that day; that fateful Friday evening that altered my life forever. Dad had been running late in picking me up from school as usual and I had to wait in class with her for about two hours before Dad finally showed up. The school environment was already empty save for the security man and Ms Chinyere, who being the vice-principal, was saddled with the responsibility of ensuring that everywhere was locked up every school day before she left. I don’t want to go into details about what she did to me that day, but when I finally got home, I locked myself up in my room and cried so hard because I was disgusted with myself. Did I try to tell Mom? Oh yes I did! But as expected, her response was the usual ‘Oh baby, I’m busy now. Can we talk about it tomorrow?’ And I’d reply,‘sure, Mom.’ But tomorrow never came, so the incidents with Ms Chinyere became a routine and she warned me sternly not to ever mention it to anyone. And Dad? Always too engrossed with work to even listen. Oh how I hate myself right now! I have become a burden to my family *sobs*

Now guess what? Mom’s pregnant again-and this time with twins!(I heard her talking with Dad) My greatest fear now is that the same cycle is going to repeat itself, only this time I won’t be the only one at the receiving end of the stick - Cheta will too and by then, I would have faded into oblivion. This is exactly why I intend to finally go ahead with my plans. What’s that? I hear you ask. Well I’ve decided to end the earthly journey of Cheta and I, yes you heard me right! I mean why let Cheta go through the same thing I’ve been struggling with for a long time now when I could simply give him a free exit out of it all-also, it would be a perfect way of getting my revenge for all the times he took the parental love we should have shared. And on my part, I would have saved myself from double occurrence of abandonment(I mean they have already planned to send me away to a boarding school at the beginning of the next session), lovelessness and possibly a lifetime of unhappiness. Plus, I’ll be giving them enough  time to ‘concentrate’ on their new babies when they come; this way, Cheta and I don’t get to be ‘obstacles’ to their love. How am I going to do this? Simple! I heard Dad tell the babysitter that Aunt Chichi, our family friend is having her baby shower on Saturday evening and he’ll be going to their place with Mom, so that means leaving us behind with her(the babysitter) as usual. Well, I’ll simply wait until they are gone, then find a way to distract the babysitter by probably requesting for something that’s not in the house, and after she’s gone to buy it, I’ll simply take out the rat poison I hid few days ago in an old closet no one uses anymore, convince Cheta that it’s yogurt (after all it’s milk-like and he’s too small to know the difference), then finish the rest of the bottle. If everything goes smoothly, we’ll both be ‘gone’ before the babysitter returns; she’s so nice and I’m really sorry she has to be a part of this. And before you ask, I saw this method in a movie and I think it would work just fine - the only difference being that the babysitter in the movie had been very unkind and I wasn’t sorry to see her implicated in the children’s death.

I just wish that someday after we are gone, Mom and Dad will realise what they did to me and hopefully, won’t let it repeat with the twins in case they ever decide to have other children. But until then, I can only execute my plans, hoping that one day they will understand.

I have just five days to set everything up and carry out my plans, so dear reader, if there’s anything you want to tell me before then, you can reach me through this post. Otherwise, let’s meet at the other side (like they say in movies).

With Love,

Naya.