Distorted...

"Nneka!", my mother yelled for the upteenth time. Only God knows how many times she had called my name before the last deafening one. "What is wrong with you?! I have been standing here calling you since!" "I'm sorry", I muttered. Lately, I had begun crawling back into my shell; the only safe place I can call home. I had also been losing focus and zoning out every now and then. Everytime in my mind, I wished desperately for someone, anyone, to notice my sudden change in attitude but I guess no one actually cared. My Mother, her head filled with a little too much, has decided to play ignorantly. My Father, his priority being his well-being, has succumb to playing nonchalantly. My Siblings, with their hard fight for survival, have traveled far into their own delusions without looking back. So, in one word, I'm left alone to die in this cold world. The memory of last week's Friday flashed through my mind. The same memory that had been haunting my dreams and making me suffer in silence for days now. I couldn't get if off my head, I was broken. It was a cold night, I had just finished having my bath when I received a call from Sewa, my best friend, to come outside for a 'brief walk'. As usual, I lied to everyone at home that I wanted to go purchase something (not like anyone paid attention anyways). I met with Sewa and we both went to the bar where we drank and partied. After a long while, we both decided to call it a night and headed home. Unknown to us, as we walked down the lonely path, sounds of rustling leaves and crickets filling the air, two strangers traced our steps. Conscious of her surroundings even at her drunken state, Sewa stopped, sensing that something was wrong. She looked back and her sudden gasp prompted me to do so too. Right behind us stood two men, their physique taking up the whole space of the place they stood, each pointing a gun right at us. Subconsciously, we raised our arms in surrender. I might have let out a tiny but deafening shriek. Then, without warning, these men steered towards us, bundling us in their arms and banging us on the stony ground. Sewa and I struggled for freedom but their grip was so strong on us. We fought, we kicked, we bit, we pinched but all of it were futile. All of a sudden, I felt something in the palm of my hands and "boom!", I had already shot the man on top of me. As quickly as I could, I stood up and shot Sewa's rapist. When I pushed him off Sewa, I noticed she laid still in a pool of blood. I hadn't been sure whose blood it was and so, I proceeded to tapping her. One thing was sure, Sewa hadn't been just still, she had turned cold. She had died. I had been so engrossed in the shooting spree that I mistakenly shot my best friend. A wail had escaped my lips when I realized. "Sewa! No!", I had exclaimed. I had given her a small, silent burial and had decided to take the secret to my grave. That same secret that haunts me till today... My greatest grief is not how I mistakenly killed her, it is how I, Nneka Nwachukwu, took care of everything so seamlessly without anyone's help. I, who is known as 'timid' to the whole world... Who Truly Am I?