The måd woman at the junction is actually my elder sister, but as she ran towards my father that night to enter his car, I knew that something was not ordinary
The way my father was smiling and holding her hands, this was not normal.
That was the greatest shock of my life; my jaw dropped, my mind almost lost in confusion.
You know why?
Because this wasn’t any måd woman but my sister; the same Chisom that got insane and had run out of the house.
This was the same girl my mum almost kllled herself searching; we searched every nook and cɍany.
How come she had been in that town hall and we never knew?
And how did Papa get to know the exact place to see her?
A thousand and one questions were running through my mind.
And while I stared at them from my hideout, I was trying not to shout, trying to keep my cool, because that would have spoiled my little investigation.
Just then I felt someone tap my shoulder from behind.
My heartbeat increased immediately in fear.
But when I turned back, there was no one. As I looked closely, I realised it was the rope of a faded political campaign banner that had touched my shoulder and not a person.
“Thank God.” I mumbled quietly to myself, heaving a sigh of relief.
By the time my eyes returned back to the spot my mind and my måd sister was, they weren’t there anymore.
Slowly, I went out of where I was, and that was when I saw the backlight of my dad’s car.
I was surprised to see it heading towards our house.
I had no option but to trail after it like I had done on his way there.
The community town hall to our house was like a 20 minute journey, and since the car drove slowly, it was possible to run after it through hideouts without being caught.
***
When I arrived at the front of our apartment, I saw Papa’s car parked in front of it. And he was standing right there with my lnsane sister.
So I managed to bypass them into the back door.
The moment I entered the house, I began to peep at them through the window.
Then I saw Papa brought out a small bucket from a car; a red bucket I had never seen in that house.
From the way he carried it, there seemed to be something inside; something like water, I suppose.
Not long after, he pulled Chisom closer to the bucket… he bent her head into it and began to wash her hair with the content inside the bucket.
In all of these, despite being a lunatic, Chisom didn’t resist at all. She obeyed all of his touch and commands.
As I looked at them, I could still hear my heart beating terribly like I was watching a real life horror scene.
But it was the next thing he did that jolted me into screaming out loud.
I couldn’t hold it.
To be continued…
WHAT MY FATHERS DOES TO MY MÅD SIS TER EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT—EPISODE 2
Chapter 3 will drop any time from now. To receive notification when I drop it, don’t hesitate hit “F0LL0W”
©My name is Akponwei John Michael, and I’m a Tide Of Drizzling Inspiration.
But it was the next thing he did that tore the scream out of my throat before I could stop it.
Papa reached into the red bucket and brought out—not water—
But something thick.
Dark.
It glistened under the security light.
And he began to pour it slowly over Chisom’s head.
Not splashing.
Not rushing.
Careful.
Intentional.
Like it meant something.
“NO!” I screamed before I even realized I had opened my mouth.
Papa froze.
Chisom’s head snapped up.
And in that split second, I saw her face clearly.
She wasn’t wild.
She wasn’t confused.
She wasn’t even afraid.
She was calm.
Too calm.
Papa’s eyes locked with mine through the window.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then he whispered something to her.
And Chisom smiled.
The Smile That Wasn’t Mad
Not the empty, broken smile of a woman who had lost her mind.
A knowing smile.
My blood ran cold.
Papa straightened slowly and set the bucket down.
“Come out,” he said quietly.
Not shouting.
Not angry.
Just… certain.
My legs felt like stone, but somehow I walked outside.
The night air suddenly felt heavier.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “She’s been missing for two years! We buried her clothes! Mama nearly died looking for her!”
Papa didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he took a clean white cloth from his pocket and wiped Chisom’s face gently.
The dark liquid slid off her hair and onto the ground.
Under the light, I realized something that made my stomach twist.
It wasn’t blood.
It was herbal mixture.
Palm oil. Ground leaves. Something bitter and sharp.
A ritual bath.
Chisom looked at me fully now.
And spoke.
Clearly.
“Sis, you shouldn’t have followed him.”
The world tilted.
Her voice.
Steady.
Normal.
The Truth About the Junction
“You’re not mad?” I whispered.
She gave a short laugh.
“No.”
My chest tightened. “Then why did you run away? Why did you let us think—?”
“Because I had to.”
Papa exhaled slowly, like a man who had been holding his breath for years.
“They were watching this house,” he said.
“Who?” I asked.
Chisom’s smile faded.
“The council chairman,” she replied. “And the land developers behind him.”
My mind scrambled to catch up.
Papa continued, his voice low.
“The land our house stands on isn’t ordinary. It connects to the old stream path under the town hall. The oil company wants it cleared. Quietly.”
“And what does that have to do with her pretending to be mad?” I snapped.
Chisom stepped closer.
“Because I found the documents.”
The Discovery
Two years ago, before she “lost her mind,” Chisom had been working as a clerk at the local government office.
She stumbled on files showing illegal land acquisition.
Forgery.
Forced evictions planned for our entire neighborhood.
Including ours.
She confronted someone.
And someone threatened her.
“They told me accidents happen,” she said softly.
The next week, rumors started spreading.
That she had become unstable.
That she was behaving strangely.
That she had attacked someone in the market.
“I let it grow,” she said. “If they thought I was insane, they’d stop seeing me as a threat.”
So she ran.
Not away.
Into hiding.
At the junction near the town hall—where no one pays attention to the “mad woman.”
She listened.
She watched.
She gathered proof.
Papa visited her every Friday night.
With food.
With updates.
With protection.
And with that herbal wash—a traditional cleansing ritual used in our village when someone lives under constant spiritual and physical threat.
“It wasn’t madness,” Papa said quietly. “It was cover.”
The Real Horror
“But why didn’t you tell us?” I asked, tears burning my eyes.
Chisom looked at me with something like apology.
“The fewer people who knew, the safer you were.”
Suddenly, headlights flashed at the end of the street.
Not Papa’s car.
A black SUV.
Slow.
Suspicious.
Papa’s face hardened instantly.
“They know,” he muttered.
My heart jumped into my throat.
“They saw you follow me,” he said.
Chisom grabbed my wrist.
“You weren’t supposed to see this.”
The SUV stopped a few houses away.
Doors opened.
Men stepped out.
Not police.
Not neighbors.
The Choice
Papa moved quickly.
“Go inside. Lock the back door. Call Uncle Emeka.”
“But—”
“GO!”
For the first time in my life, I saw fear in my father’s eyes.
Not for himself.
For us.
Chisom squeezed my hand once.
“Whatever happens,” she whispered, “remember I was never crazy.”
The men were walking toward our gate.
Slow.
Confident.
The kind of confidence that comes from thinking no one will fight back.
Papa stepped forward to meet them.
Alone.
And as the first man called out his name—
I realized something terrifying.
This wasn’t about a missing girl.
It wasn’t about madness.
It was about land.
Power.
And the kind of truth people are willing to kill for.
And this time—
We weren’t hiding anymore.
