The Beautiful Ones Are Now Dead

The news reached our ears in the middle of summer. Dorothy Wogu killed herself during the midterm holiday. It was only a few weeks before our final exams in high school. The doctors said it was a severe case of manic depression. She had been suicidal for a very long time.

You know that essential yet delicate period where every student made plans in regards to the future? College Plans were the talk of all graduating students and some were even superbly excited about finally getting out of high school. Burning with the idea of freedom and feverish excitement that comes with graduating towards the next direction of their lives?

That’s when she decided she didn’t want to live anymore.

Now, here’s what’s hard to believe. Oftentimes, we read about the death of a stranger, and for a fleeting moment wonder how their last moments on earth were; What feelings pulsed through their minds as they watched their last moments unfold before their eyes.

Did they feel fear for the unknown? Sad and lonely? Empty? Regret? What exactly does a man feel at the brink of death?

For Dorothy Wogu, there was no way to know. She was one of the most beautiful girls in school. She smiled with perfect dentition every time she got the chance to, and she had the kind of grades that every kid — I prayed for!

Several circulating rumors had it that she had cried herself to death—which was a stupid thing to say and an inappropriate way to describe death if you think about it. If you really could cry yourself to death, then babies would never get past their formative stage, because hell yes, they did know how to cry best in the world!

Other suggestions were that she had jumped off a cliff because of boy problems. And some, ridiculously, had audacious claims that she had taken a member of the family with her— her younger brother whose wrist had been slit first, before she’d proceeded to slit hers as well, in the middle of the night.

If you ask me, all this sounds nothing like the heartwarming Dorothy — the girl I knew. They were all high school tales that boring kids would cook up to entertain their fancy. Anyone with a thinking brain could tell that these were all made up stories. As with everything regarding rumors, these falsified cock and bull tales quickly spread like wildfire across town. Hushed down from one kid to the other.

One could never know which of these tales to make sense of, and Rumour, they say, has a way of doing remarkably injurious things to the memory of a person. The truth would only be learned when we resumed after the break. We’d all find out what truly happened. But before all of Westmond High School found out the truth for themselves, I did not have the patience to wait that long. I knew I had to do something. She was my friend.

I shut my weary eyes quickly and sighed. I could feel the weight of loss and grief drifting over me —a cloud of heaviness. Has she been my friend? Or did I profess a friendship that was nothing other than a label?

How come I had no idea she was suicidal?

Why was I never there for her?

I knew Dorothy Wogu very well, and if for anything else, she was not one to kill herself. Why would anyone that perfect yearn to end their life?

The news had come as a blow. Dorothy had always looked the happiest of us all. She’d always been the most outgoing extrovert amongst the senior girls of Westmomd High.

As one of the most popular girls in school, she’d charmed her way into the hearts of boys and girls alike. She’d been the real definition of love and light. Once, she’d helped Thomas Becker, a new kid get out of big trouble with the other seniors who enjoyed bullying the junior kids.

Thomas was a scrawny little kid who had huge glasses that resembled large comic face shields. One feature that made him essentially picky for the bullies aside from his introverted nature, was his large ears which fondly reminded any one of the popular Mickey Mouse. With that look, you’d imagine he was the joke of the year and unsurprisingly the pick of several bullies of distinguishable forms and sizes. He was on the receiving end of the antics of both juniors and seniors of Westmomd High.

One day, the bullies had accosted him in the school Cafeteria. Building an impenetrable bodily wall around him, they had cornered him swiftly, snatching his food and flinging it almost immediately into the waste bin. It had been a dreadful sight to watch. Dorothy upon witnessing the event had walked up to the bullies and told them to back off. Even if challenging them meant she’d forever be engraved into the bad books of the bullies, she went ahead to defend him. Her brevity had been commendable.

Thomas Becker whimpered and clung to her legs like a scared dog who had just found its owner. That day, she’d told him to wear his body like it was the best thing he had. He didn’t have to be ashamed of his glasses and ears anymore as they were beautiful if only he’d learn to see them as such. Thomas learned to believe more in himself and embrace his body in all of its excesses, shortcomings, and glory. The moment she uttered before the bullies that there was no one like him in the entire world.

Imagine the thought of being universally irreplaceable? Those few words of encouragement had done the trick, and after that, Thomas Becker was no longer addressed as the new kid who looked like Mickey Mouse. Everybody called him “Thomas with the glasses.”

The same had been the case with Anna, only a much different case scenario. Dorothy had smartly been able to avert what would have been the biggest scandal of the year at Westmomd High.

Anna had been placed in a precarious situation when a videotape that had her in a compromising position with her boyfriend had been leaked by that same boy. The gruff Henry Peters had threatened Anna to publish the tape to all the Juniors and Seniors of Westmomd High if she did not pay an obeisance fee every day in school.

Not everyone knew about this, but when Dorothy found out, she’d immediately taken it upon herself to rid Henry Peters and the entire school of jerks of the thought that they could get away with just about anything in the world.

In her argument, Anna should never have to feel guilt for something that was performed by both consenting individuals. She’d gotten ahead of Henry Peters and his callous friends, stole the tape, shredded it into numerous pieces, and sent it wrapped in a letter that boldly stated:

Never Mess With Girls. Even God Does Not Approve Of Boys Who Sass Girls Unnecessarily.

With this statement, the opposition was conquered and the threat was done away with. Like a feline cat, Henry Peters had gone scurrying away with his friends never to be seen bothering Anna again. That day, I had watched Dorothy do such brave and marvelous deeds by herself, and I yearned to be like her in every sense. She was just the perfect blend of everything; smart-ass, beauty, brains, kindness, and wit.

In her fleeting yet short moments on earth, she had proved herself to be goodness personified. It felt strange to think about Dorothy as something of the past. It felt surreal to think that she was no longer here with us.

I walked towards the bathroom, hoping to wash the gloom and stench of sorrow that seemed to pervade my complete being. I tried to think of the last time I had seen her, straining to remember every detail; what she had worn, the color of her dress, and the last hairstyle she had on before this unforeseeable doom befell us all.

Tears continued to tumble down my face as I remembered it all vividly.

We’d been walking back from class, after making a combined decision to ditch the school bus. As we ambled down the road, she’d introduced the subject of Chris, a boy she liked very deeply in class. As she spoke, I could hear her daydream how she’d ask him out for the final year dance, and how she’d kiss him in the middle of the school hall when no one else was looking.

That day, I had reassured her that she deserved someone as special, refined, and classically stylish.

Chris was undoubtedly one of the most handsome boys who had joined Westmomd High School only a year ago. Ever Since Dorothy met him in science class, her days have literally been about gushing and playing imaginary Chris’ girlfriend.

At some point, I knew she had to get out of her head and take up action by asking him out to the last dance of high school. That day, we had laughed and laughed and laughed, and there were no clouds of sadness lurking over us. She had been happy. She had seemed really happy.

That had been two weeks ago.

How things had changed since the last time I saw her was astounding. How did a young girl who looked forward to life suddenly want to end her life? It didn’t sound right. She was too perfect to die. Something must have gone wrong.

On the 21st of June, the day she was set to be laid to rest, I learned the truth behind her death. Dorothy Wogu had never been truly suicidal. In fact, she had been forced to take her own life. The burial had lasted for a few hours. The hall had been jammed on all sides by students, teachers, and old folks of our little community. Indeed, Dorothy had been loved by many. Her short life had borne so many seeds of fruitfulness. She’d not be forgotten so soon.

She’d sown seedlings of happiness, genuine laughter, and in her little way, she’d created a world where everyone can be perfect in their way by embracing their faults and learning to be themselves. The entire town was there mourning, and it just didn’t feel good that we all had the rest of our lives to ourselves. we still had a chance to keep on going forward, but Dorothy’s life had been stopped forever.

If there was any consolidation at all, it was the way nature seemed to rain torrents as she was finally lowered into the ground—even mother earth couldn’t hold back her tears.

“Affy??”

I turned around at the sound of my name. It was Dorothy’s mom. Trying very hard to manage a smile, I brushed away my tears quickly and mumbled a greeting out of courtesy, “I’m sorry about Dorothy. I’m sorry for your loss”.

“Please don’t be, none of us could have done anything better.” She replied with a faraway look of regret.” Dorothy left a note for you. I thought you’d like to take a look.” She concluded, extending a neatly folded envelope.

“Thanks, ma’am” I murmured weakly, not sure what was the proper way to react in such a situation. As the rain poured deeply around me, I reached into the envelope and read out loud.

“Dear Affy,

I’m sure you’re wondering why I did it? I’m sorry, and I miss you already. For most of my life, I kept my feelings buckled up inside. Unable to face my fears, and unable to face my past.

My parents were always there every step of the way too. God bless them both for always being there. But when it happened again, I knew even they could not save me.

I had a messy childhood, and the most traumatic of all my experiences was when I was raped of my innocence at a young age. it would have been bearable if it was just anyone. I was sexually abused at the age of five by an extended family member.

Swallowing the guilts of a childhood experience was one thing, but when it happened again, I was unable to bear the pain and shame. The emotions I had managed to suppress for a long time, came back stronger and more biting than before.

Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I don’t just belong in this world anymore. I’ve been tainted. I feel dirty, and I don’t want to live anymore. There’s nothing here for me.

I’ve taken the cowardice route to eternal rest. Now, here where I am, I would no longer be labeled as a victim of molestation. I would no longer have to carry this burden of shame.

I dearly hope that you don’t blame yourself for my decisions Affy, there are a lot of things in this world we cannot change.

Always say a prayer for me.

With love,

Dorothy.”

Immediately I reached the end of the letter, I fell to the ground and wept soundly.

How could she do this to herself?

How??

It’s not your fault! It’s not your fault!

My mind echoed these words to the letter as if somehow, she could hear it.

Nobody deserved such horror in life! Nobody deserved to go through such degradation — ever! As I stood there watching the sky send droplets to earth, I wished she could have learned to love herself better when she did not get it from anyone else. I wished she had been stronger than her physical and mental predators. I wished she had learned to conquer the feeling of victimhood.

Maybe that way she’d have fully realized what she truly was: a life-giver, a fighter, and a conqueror.

All images are gotten from unsplash.com, no attribution is required.