As the interrogation wore on, Detective Tom’s questions grew more insistent, more probing. He delved into my past, my relationship with my family, my father’s business dealings, my mental health. With each question, I felt as if I were being stripped bare, laid bare for all the world to see.

‘It is no secret that you have mental health issues.” That you have been sent to the loony bin many times. You’ve been spotted in public being aggregated by citizens and losing your temper, over coffee spills” Detective Tom said. I sat there not knowing what to say because there was no question to answer, I had lived a life of explaining myself from as far as I can remember,I am always painted as the villain, dramatic and throwing tantrums over petty issues.I hated how he treated my sickness as some sort of a play thing. Like I’m crazy, yes I am bipolar and have been since I was 18 yrs old., I have been to mental institutions , I have defaulted in my treatment , I couldn’t come into terms with being like that .You see having a well known family, you instantly become someone’s conversation over tea with scones, your daily life is worth news and thousands of rand’s to media houses. A person spilling coffee at you at the airport and not being apologetic about it turned into paparazzi, with videos of me plastered on every social media you can think of, the news, I was made a meme. Did they ask me what happened? No. I don’t have control over their narrative.

‘Anybody home?” as he swayed his hands left to right in front of my face. Bringing me back from my thoughts.

“Have you been taking your medication well recently?” he added.

“Yes 6 tablets, 3 times a day as my doctor prescribed” I said.

“How are the counselling sessions going? I hope you have been a bad girl skipping classes”, he laughed at his bad jokes, which I didn’t find amusing at all. He looked disgusting to me.

“I have been making sure I avail myself to any of my scheduled sessions and Id gladly give you my therapist:s number”, I said.

“Anything out of the ordinary you took that you were not supposed to?”

But amidst the turmoil and uncertainty, one memory burned brighter than the rest. The flashback of my mother , giving me a glass of champagne, one after the other . She was on my case last night, trying to “loosen me up” as she says.

“The glass” , I said as if something has been pushing me at the back to finally say that. “She gave me the glass. It tasted differently from the champagne I’m used to having. It was somewhat strong.” Mother knew I wasn’t supposed to be mixing alcohol with the pills, but her pushy self got me gulping 2 champagne glasses and the room felt like it was moving, things being blur. I was a wild cat after that, I had adrenaline for days, I couldn’t stop dancing. I somewhat felt alive and carefree.

“What about the glass? Who gave you the glass?, detective Tom said impatiently. It was now that it started gushing like blood, I could finally remember.

“Mom gave me the glasses, she said I needed to loosen up. It was a party after all. I begged her because I had just taken my pills. She said two glasses won’t hurt. She can allow me to be reckless just for the night. I remember asking the helpers to plug my phone to the aux and play “Diva by Beyonce” after that I dragged everybody to the dance floor, we started twerking, shaking the boobs, hands thrown in the air, everybody screaming. Father was seated down, all embarrassed but I knew he was livid. Burning inside. I brought disgrace to him and his friends. It was like I brought life to a dying party, but they couldn’t keep up with me. Soon they sat down, one by one. First my heels were off, then the diamond earrings and necklace. My long dress was disturbing me, so I decided to roll it. Father got up furious and lifted me over his shoulder and left the room. I was screaming and kicking, begging him to let me be. He put me in my bed and I don’t remember what happened after.”

“It seems like you had a wild night Miss Ngema, you had a blackout, what was I expecting from celebrities?” I mumbled the last part but it was loud enough for me to hear.detective Tom said.

A police officer got in and whispered something to him and he quickly got up, fixed himself and pressed the tape recorder. “More witnesses have come, so I need to ask them questions. You can use the restrooms if you might, however a police officer will take you there. I am not sure our tin restrooms will be up to your standards, your highness, he said sarcasm full in his voice. I will soon come back and sign your release forms.” he added. I was now left alone in the interrogation room, well not entirely alone because my thoughts were surely keeping busy.”

“I shouldn’t have taken those champagne glasses, now I’m in this mess because of them. Did my mother cause all this? Did she drug me? With her anything is possible. She is a woman consumed by ambition and greed, who has always sought to control every aspect of our lives. I was really conflicted as to what happened. Who killed my father and framed me for murder? Who stood to gain the most in my father’s passing? Daniel? Mother? The lawyer? Business associates? What did he do to be brutally killed like that? I really need to start thinking like a detective now. What did this person see in me to tie me to a crime? My father was ruthless in business, he did nobody no favor, many business gurus envied him, he won the business of the year award 4 times perfectly in a row, he got huge injections of capital from many people wanting to do business with him. top businesses wanted to do business with thee well-known Mr. Ngema, he had branches of his construction businesses all over the city, maybe he stepped on many toes and now chickens have roosted for him. He was a proud and powerful man, strongly believed in a male-led male led environment both in business and family as he always favored my younger brother, Daniel. My mother too loved his golden boy, he used him as a pawn because ever since D was born, she became the perfect wife who gave dad an “heir” , someone with the strength and emotional capability to run a business, unlike girls who will be love stricken and ruin everything as dad would say. I guess I have no one on my side, it was me trying to prove my worth to dad, me trying to be the perfect daughter mom could take on one of her lunch dates with her ladies. I tried to let them see me as a normal being other than a burden, who had to be reminded always that you needed to take pills. Always sidelined, people watching what to say to me so that I may not get angry. I want them to know that I run the business as he taught me. I was trying so hard to be noticed by him. That I too have the balls like a male to run in the male- dominated world.

And as I sat in that cold, sterile room, I realized that the answers I sought lay not in the present, but in the shadows of the past. That if I were to uncover the truth, I would have to confront the demons that haunted my family’s legacy, to delve deep into the heart of darkness that lurked within our midst.

As I emerged from the interrogation room, the weight of my mother’s accusations bore down on me like a leaden cloak. I knew that I would have to confront my family, to face the demons that lurked within our midst. No one came for me, not even the family lawyer. I called friends and as soon as they heard it was me on the call they dropped it. It’s true when they say when days are dark friends are few. I waited for the next available police van to take me home. Those bloody vultures called journalists were already waiting outside and they made it worse that I was seated at the back of the van like a real criminal. I didn’t have the energy to hide myself, I let them be. I am sure with this story it meant an increase in their lousy salaries.

I found my mother and Daniel locked in heated conversation in the grand foyer of the mansion, their voices echoing off the marble walls, filling the air with tension and unease.

“Mother, Daniel,” I began, my voice trembling slightly, “we need to talk.”

But my mother’s gaze was cold and unyielding, her resolve unshakable. “You know what happened,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “You killed your father.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling in their wake. But I knew that I could not let her accusations go unanswered. That I would have to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” I lowly said feeling defeated that my mother would utter those words to me. What happened to motherly instincts? Standing by their children through thick and thin?

“We all know what we saw”, she said. “Evidence was handed over to the police on a silver platter by you. You couldn’t even clean after yourself. What a foolish girl I birthed. You couldn’t even accept the fact that your father was going to give your brother his businesses. You killed him! Your jealousy, anger and greed drove you to kill your father. You pretended to be drunk so that you could kill him!” a hysterical cry filled the room, I looked at her in disgust because what she was doing was just an act, she always knows how to toy with people and just like that they came running like headless chickens from the kitchen finding her on the floor crying like a child whose sweet was snatched from , my aunt embraced her, trying to calm her down and she clanged on her for dear life. There she was, my mother revealing her true self, how of an actor she was, that devil smile plastered on her face while my life was hanging by the thread was a nail in my coffin. What did I really do to deserve such? I was told to leave the room as I am making her emotional.

And so I steeled myself for the battle that lay ahead, knowing that the road would be long and treacherous, fraught with danger and despair. But I also knew that I could not turn back now. That I had to see it through, to uncover the secrets that lay hidden in the darkness, and to emerge victorious on the other side.

For only then could I truly claim my place in the world, and forge my own destiny, free from the shadows of my family’s legacy.

In the days that followed, I found myself trapped in a web of suspicion and doubt, my every move scrutinized by those around me. The servants whispered behind closed doors, casting furtive glances in my direction whenever I passed by. Even Daniel, my own brother, seemed to regard me with a mixture of fear and distrust. Ironically, I trusted no one too, I was a loner, and my eyes were opened to everything around me, ears sharp too. Just yesterday, when everyone was snoring away, I couldn’t sleep, my comfortable bed felt like a log of a tree and I decided to get myself a cup of warm milk. When I overheard mother dearest on the phone on my way to the kitchen, her bedroom door was slightly open, maybe because she thought everyone was already asleep. She was on her feet, facing the big window, curtains opened, the moon outside being the only thing lighting up, she wasn’t dressed in her night garments. She was fully clothed! Where was she going? Or where has she been? She was speaking softly but I managed to hear even though confusion added to my demise.

“What do you mean you didn’t kill him? How is he dead if you didn’t do the job? You thought it was me? Why would I get my hands dirty when I have you for that. I cannot provide you with everything. I provided the sacrificial lamb. Do your job!” I quickly passed to the kitchen, making sure I didn’t wake anyone up. But amidst the chaos and despair, a glimmer of hope emerged – a single thread of truth that promised to unravel the web of lies that had ensnared us all. It came in the form of a single piece of evidence, the power of eavesdropping all because of my tireless quest for justice.

“So, is my mother planning behind my father’s murder? She is the mastermind behind it all. Why would she want the love of her life dead? Why am I caught up in all this? Was I the sacrificial lamb? Who was she talking to over the phone? Maybe if I can get hold of her phone and see who she called. Maybe I can set up a meeting with the person and catch him red handed? No, maybe I can confront my mother about it, look her in the eyes and demand answers. No, she is sly as a fox. I need to get the phone for myself”. How am I supposed to get the phone when she is treating me like a plague? I barely see her around the house, it’s either she’s out shopping or drowning her sorrows in the cellar room. Maybe the guilt was eating her, that’s why she is barely sober lately.”

But as I stood on the precipice of truth, I knew that the road ahead would not be easy. That there would be obstacles to overcome, challenges to face. But I also knew that I was not alone – that with Detective Tom at my side, and the truth as my guide, I would find the strength to persevere.

And so, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the journey ahead. For I knew that no matter what lay in store, I would face it head-on, with courage and determination, until the shadows that had haunted my family for so long were finally banished, and we could emerge into the light, whole once more.