THE RISE OF TUMELO
CHAPTER 10
ITUMELENG
Weeks have passed, and I’m getting increasingly scared, my anxiety levels skyrocketing with each passing day. People are talking bad about me on social platforms, their words like drows cutting deep, some even going as far as threatening me, saying they’ll find me and I’ll pay for all the missing souls, the fear of being hunted gnawing at my insides. I’ve started checking my phone obsessively, refreshing the apps every few minutes, my heart racing with every new notification.
My mother, on the other hand, is oblivious to the danger I’m in, asking me nonstop when I’m going back to Nelspruit to work, her innocence a stark contrast to the reality I’m facing. Only if she knew that I wasn’t working but kidnapped, the secret a heavy burden on my shoulders, weighing me down with every passing day.
I’ve managed to buy a new cell phone, and I’m planning on going back to Nelspruit, hoping my name will clear, maybe people will understand that it’s not my fault that Tumelo keeps on kidnapping people, the thought a glimmer of hope in the darkness. I’ve been rehearsing what I’ll say to him, trying to prepare myself for the worst, but the uncertainty is eating away at me.
I’m nervous to see him again, he hasn’t come, and I’m glad he hasn’t, but I’m nervous at the same time, my heart racing at the mere thought of facing him. I pack a few clothes, enough to last me for a week, my movements mechanical, my mind a jumble of emotions. I double-check the bag, making sure I have everything I need, my hands shaking slightly as I zip it up.
I’ve already asked for Boipelo’s numbers from my mother, and I told both my parents that I’m leaving today, the lie tasting bitter in my mouth. It’s 10am when I finish everything, and I’m pretty sure by now everyone knows me in Nelspruit, the notoriety a heavy weight on my shoulders. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but my heart refuses to slow down.
I walk out my room holding my luggage, my father left for work, Andile went to school, and my so-called sister, Kgomotso, I don’t know where she went, the silence in the house oppressive. Her children are outside playing, laughing and shouting, their innocence a stark contrast to the fear that’s gripping me. My mother is behind the stove when I walk into the kitchen, the smell of food wafting through the air, making my stomach twist with anxiety.
“You got me stressed, I thought you weren’t going to go back to work,” she says, smiling, her eyes cring with concern. I return the smile, trying to hide the turmoil brewing inside me. “No Ma, like I told you that my boss gave me a few days off,” I, the lie slipping off my tongue with ease, my mother nodding understandingly.
She smiles and hands me two Tupperware containers filled with food, her kindness a stark contrast to the danger I’m facing. “Thank you,” I say, and we both walk out as she accompanies me to the gate, the morning sun casting a warm glow on our faces. The air is crisp and cool, filled with the scent of blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the fear that’s gripping me.
“I’m hoping not to see you any time soon, you have to work, you’re not getting any younger,” she says, her words a mix of concern and expectation. I love that she cares, her love and support a balm to my frowning soul. She’s lucky she got a husband who doesn’t want her to work because he’s providing for her and all of us as his children, the thought a pang of envy in my heart.
“Of course,” I say, knowing I might come back tomorrow, what if Tumelo doesn’t want to see my face? The thought sends a shiver down my spine. I bid goodbye to my mother, hugging her tightly, trying to hold onto the feeling of safety for just a little longer. I turn and walk towards the gate, my luggage in hand, the world outside feeling like a ticking time bomb.
Finally, I’ve arrived, the tension in the air palpable as I step out of the Uber, my heart racing with every passing moment. I passed by ILanga mall to get something to eat, and the glances people keep stealing is uncomfortable, making my skin crawl with unease. The smell of food wafts through the air, but my appetite has vanished, replaced by a growing sense of dread. I don’t really know who told everyone that Tumelo is this heartless because of me, but I’m suspecting Nthabi because she’s the one who thinks I’m taking Boipelo away from her, the thought sending a wave of unease through me.
I take my KFC paper bag and request an Uber to his apartment, my hands shaking slightly as I enter the address. The Uber driver isn’t comfortable having me in his car, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, filled with a mix of fear and disgust. He keeps glancing at me, making me feel like I’m a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode. So I’m hated here, the realization a heavy blow to my already fragile state. Soon as he drops me off, he speeds away, leaving me standing alone in front of the apartment, the silence oppressive.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but my heart refuses to slow down. I head in, luckily the gate isn’t locked, the ease of entry a stark contrast to the tension that’s building inside me. This alone proves that this place is ruled by him, the thought sending a shiver down my spine. As I head in, a cane corso barks at me, its growl low and menacing, making my blood run cold. I didn’t know he had a dog, but a cane corso? Where did he get it, because here we’re used to, Rex, Blackie… these ones can never cause you harm because they bark twice and lay back on the ground, the unfamiliarity making me uneasy.
We’re used to our Africanis, not to a cane corso, the thought racing through my mind as I scream my lungs out as it approaches me, shielding my face, my body frozen in fear. “Candy, come back here girl,” I hear his deep voice from the balcony, the dog’s tail moving from side to side, its growl subsiding. It’s a she, I thought it was a he, the realization a fleeting thought as I lift my head, looking at Tumelo.
He’s shirtless, standing in the balcony, his eyes red, holding a glass of whiskey, the sight sending a wave of fear through me. His muscles are tense, his jaw clenched, making him look like a predator, ready to pounce. Soon as my eyes meet with his, I swear my skin wants to crawl out, the intensity of his gaze making me feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare. I try to take a step back, but my feet are rooted to the spot, unable to move.
The air is thick with tension, the only sound the distant hum of the city, and I’m trapped in this web of fear, unable to escape. Tumelo’s eyes are boring into mine, making me feel like he’s reading my soul, and I’m trying to hide, but there’s nowhere to hide. The fear is creeping up my spine, making my heart pound in my chest, and I’m waiting for him to make his move, waiting for the nightmare to begin.
The seconds tick by, each one feeling like an eternity, and I’m frozen in place, unable to move or speak. Tumelo’s gaze is unwavering, his eyes locked on mine, and I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my mind. The fear is consuming me, eating away at my sanity, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever be able to escape this living hell.
As I stand there, paralyzed with fear, I realize that I’ve made a terrible mistake. I should have never come back here, never put myself in this position. But it’s too late now, I’m trapped, and I can only wait and see what Tumelo has in store for me.
I walk towards the door and head inside, the silence oppressive, the air thick with tension, making it hard to breathe. The dim light of the setting sun casts eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the sense of unease. Shouldn’t he be here? I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but my heart refuses to slow down. I head up the stairs to his bedroom, my footsteps light, trying not to make a sound, my heart racing with every step.
The room is dimly lit, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall, the silence stretching between me and the unknown. Still no sign of him, meaning he’s still in the balcony, the thought sending a shiver down my spine. His gun is on the side table, the sight making my blood run cold, the metal gl gling in the dim light. Hopefully he doesn’t use it on me, the thought racing through my mind, making my skin crawl.
Slowly I make my way to the balcony, my movements deliberate, trying not to startle him. His back is facing me, the sight of his shirtless body making me nervous, his muscles tense, his skin gl gling with sweat. He’s got some muscles, the thought fleeting as I try to gather my courage. I bet he already felt my presence but won’t turn to face me, the anticipation killing me, making my heart pound in my chest.
“Tu…” I clear my throat, trying to sound normal, but my voice cracks, betraying my fear. “Hi,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, the sound dying in the air, swallowed by the silence. Still he doesn’t turn to face me, the silence stretching between us like a chasm, making me feel like I’m trapped.
I decide to step closer, as nervous as I am, my legs shaking slightly, my feet making barely a sound on the floor. “Tu…” He turns facing me before I can even finish talking, his eyes bloodshot, making my heart skip a beat, his gaze intense, making me feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare.
“What brings you here?” he’s looking at me, his gaze piercing, making me feel like he’s reading my soul. I avoid staring back at him, trying to hide my fear, my eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape. “You… you said you wanted me to come here with you,” my voice is failing me, the words barely making it out, my mouth dry, my tongue heavy.
“Ohh and now at your own time, you finally decided to come?” he asks, his left brow raised, the sarcasm dripping from his voice, making me feel like I’m being mocked. I nod, trying to look innocent, but he’s having none of it, his expression unyielding.
He shakes his head and pours whiskey in his glass before showing me his back again, the dismissal stinging, making me feel like I’m being rejected. What am I supposed to do now? As I turn back, “You better not run away because this time around it won’t end well,” he says, the threat implicit, making my heart race, the warning clear.
I want to say something, but words aren’t coming out, my mouth dry, my mind racing, my thoughts jumbled. I turn heading back in, it’s 5pm, maybe I should start cooking dinner, the thought a distraction from the fear that’s gripping me. Perhaps he’ll calm down and talk to me, the hope a glimmer in the darkness, a ray of light in the tunnel.
I head into the kitchen, trying to gather my thoughts, trying to calm myself down, but the fear is still there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce. I start rummaging through the fridge, looking for something to cook, trying to distract myself from the tension that’s building inside me. Maybe if I cook dinner, he’ll calm down, and we can talk, the thought a fragile thread of hope, holding on to the possibility of a reprieve.
–––
I cooked pap, chakalaka, and grilled some chicken, the aroma wafting through the air, filling the silence with a sense of normalcy, a brief respite from the tension that’s gripping me. It’s almost 7pm when he comes downstairs, I pray he eats my food, hoping it’ll be a start to breaking the ice, a glimmer of hope in the darkness.
I haven’t seen him since we spoke in the balcony, the uncertainty eating away at me, making me wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s planning. I try to prepare myself for the worst, but my heart refuses to calm down, racing with every passing moment.
“I… I cooked dinner,” I say, trying to sound cheerful, but he doesn’t respond, his expression unreadable, making me feel like I’m talking to a wall. He comes and sits on the high chair, his movements deliberate, making me feel like I’m on edge, like I’m waiting for a predator to strike.
I reach for two plates and dish up for the both of us, hoping he’ll appreciate the effort, hoping it’ll be a start to thawing the ice between us. The pap is steaming hot, the chakalaka spicy, and the chicken grilled to perfection, but I’m not sure if he’ll notice, if he’ll care.
Good thing I warmed up water, I put it in a bowel and he washes his hands, the sound of the water a brief respite from the silence, a moment of normalcy in the chaos. He’s still not looking at me, his gaze fixed on the food, making me feel like I’m invisible, like I’m just a shadow in the corner.
I sit next to him as we both eat in silence, the only sound the cling of utensils on plates, the tension palpable, making it hard to breathe. The air is thick with unspoken words, with unmet expectations, and I’m waiting for him to break the silence, to say something, anything.
“Tumelo, I’m sorry, I was scared hence I ran away, I didn’t know what you wanted from me and I still don’t know,” I say, trying to break the silence, hoping he’ll respond, hoping he’ll understand. My voice is shaking, my heart pounding, and I’m waiting for his reaction, waiting for him to explode, to yell, to scream.
He continues eating without responding nor looking at me, the rejection stinging, making me feel like I’m talking to a wall, like I’m just a nuisance, a bother. “You want me to be your maid?” I ask, trying to gauge his intentions, trying to understand what he wants from me.
He lifts his head looking at me, his eyes still red, making my heart skip a beat, his gaze intense, making me feel like I’m trapped. I clear my throat, focusing on my plate, trying to hide my fear, trying to pretend like everything is okay.
“If I wanted you to be my maid I would have said so from the beginning,” he says, his voice low, making me feel like I’m being lectured, like I’m being scolded. I didn’t think he’d answer, the surprise making me nervous, making me wonder what else he’s got in store for me.
“So… what… what do you want?” it comes out as a whisper since he’s now facing me, his gaze intense, making me feel like I’m trapped, like I’m cornered. “I want you close to me, that’s all,” he says, his voice flat, making me wonder what it means, making me wonder what he’s planning.
He stands up holding his empty plate and places it in the sink, his movements deliberate, making me feel like I’m being dismissed, like I’m being sent away. “I’m going upstairs, you’ll find me in my bedroom,” he says before walking upstairs, leaving me with more questions than answers, leaving me with a sense of unease, a feeling of dread.
And what does that supposed to mean? I don’t want to go nor sleep in his bedroom, the thought sending a shiver down my spine, making me feel like I’m walking into a trap. What’s he planning? The uncertainty is eating away at me, making me feel like I’m walking on thin ice, like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff.
After washing the few dishes, I head to the other room where I placed my bag, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the walls as I move. I take a shower, the warm water cascading down my skin, a brief respite from the tension that’s gripping me, making my muscles relax momentarily.
As I wear my pyjamas, I try to prepare myself for what’s to come, trying to calm my racing heart, but it’s hard, it’s almost impossible. My hands tremble slightly as I button up my top, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios.
I head to his bedroom, my heart beating in my throat, making it hard to breathe, the silence oppressive, like a weight pressing down on me. The room is dimly lit, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall, a steady beat that seems to match the rhythm of my heart. He’s laying in the middle of the bed facing up, shouldn’t he be sleeping? The sight of him makes me nervous, makes me wonder what he’s planning, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his expression unreadable.
“I… I am here,” I say, trying to sound normal, but my voice is shaking, betraying my fear, the words barely making it out of my mouth. “Come here,” his voice comes out as a whisper, as he pats the bed, the gesture making me feel like I’m being summoned, like I’m being pulled into a trap.
Slowly I get on the bed, trying to calm myself down, trying to pretend like everything is okay, but my body betrays me, my legs shaking slightly as I move closer to him. “I’m here,” I whisper, hoping he’ll respond, hoping he’ll tell me what he wants, but he just lies there, silent, unmoving.
“Good, now sleep,” he says, his voice flat, making me wonder if he’s serious, if he’s really expecting me to sleep next to him. Firstly I’m scared of him, secondly I’m not comfortable being around him, the thought sending a shiver down my spine, making my skin crawl.
Anyways I nod and close one eye, trying to relax, trying to fall asleep, but it’s hard, it’s almost impossible, my mind racing with thoughts, my body tense. When his hand lays on my waist, I can feel the tension, I can tell he’s also not comfortable, his hand is shaking, making me wonder what’s going on, making me wonder what he’s thinking.
He removes his hand and starts breathing heavily, the sound filling the silence, making me feel like I’m trapped, like I’m caught in a web of fear. “Sorry about that,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, making me wonder if he’s really sorry, if he’s really trying to apologize.
“I swear I didn’t mean to touch you, I… I…” he keeps quiet, the silence stretching between us like a chasm, making me feel like I’m walking on thin ice, like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff. The air is thick with tension, the only sound his heavy breathing, and I’m waiting for him to say something, to do something, but he’s just laying there, silent, unmoving, making me wonder what’s going through his mind.
No stickers & Emojies allowed.
80+ comments & 15+ shared.