The police let me into the ward after a while. One of the police officers still wanted to interrogate me first, but I just went in with the doctor. Inside, Lonwabo had handcuffs tied on the bed, and he was sleeping with an oxygen mask and a neck straightener. He was very bad. I asked the doctor to give us a moment, or just two minutes, and the doctor left.
“Lolo! Lolo, can you hear me?” I asked.
He slowly opened his eyes and saw that it was me. He had tried to cut his neck and damaged his throat, so he could not scream or shout because he had damaged his throat.
“Why are you still alive?” I asked him, and he shook his head.
After a while, I went to the doctor’s shelves and saw a very sharp knife they used for cutting people. I first cut the drips, and then took off the oxygen mask. I then watched him struggling to breathe, and all that time, I was talking in order for the police behind the door to think I was talking to him. That took me less than ten minutes, and then he was no more. I then walked out and bumped into a nurse that was coming in to examine him. I walked fast down the passage.
“Security! Security! That woman, stop her!” the nurse said, and when I tried to run, I fell.
**********
“She is awake! Matron come to see, her eye are open now,” a nurse said.
“What? What is going on,” I asked.
“Yes it seems like she can talk now. Officer she is awake and talking,” the Matron said, and many people came after a while. There were doctors, the police, and nurses standing there, watching me.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Wow, only now. They admitted you here five months ago. You fainted,” someone responded.
“Wow, are you saying I fainted for five months? Why? What happened?” I asked.
“You killed a man,” someone responded.
“A man? What man?” I asked.
“You killed Lonwabo Mxinwa, fainted, and then got admitted into hospital after that,” the doctor responded. “You then woke up, but you were like a zombie because you were not talking, just staring into space and walking but bumping into walls or whatever was in front of you. You were diagnosed with mental dysfunctions, and that was when you were transferred to this mental institution. You would go back to unconsciousness and then wake up after days or a week, but still not talking.”
“We will take you to see a psychologist. They will assess you and give us a go ahead to either send you to prison or keep you here,” another doctor said.
“Prison? Why did I kill the guy, and how did I kill him?” I asked.
“He killed your sister, Mbali, and then tried to kill himself, but he survived and you went to the hospital to finish him,” the doctor responded.
“I am sorry,” I said.
I got arrested for murder for one year, and I was released on bail but still under prison rules. Every day, the police visited me, and I had to sign some document. I still remember the day I last saw her, though. It was when she walked me out and said she was fine. Mbali said “I AM FINE”.
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