Nandi broke through the last clump of bushes and stepped out onto the gravel road. The men had stopped their pipe smoking for a few minutes, to silently watch her walk on by, and that was all.

Two women, leaning on their old rickety gate, turned to stare at her. “You should never walk that way, my girl,” called one of them.

“You’re lucky to have come through alive!” shouted the other woman. “You could have been murdered.”

“Or raped,” added the other woman.

Nandi ignored them both, and walked passed them. She heard them clicking their tongues at her.

Lucky! thought Nandi to herself despairingly. Oh yes − that’s just the right word to describe me!

Nandi turned a corner, and there was her house. The blue door was shut and locked. Her mother was out, as she always was. There would be no-one home. Nandi felt for her key and fiddled with it in the lock, the door opened, and she went inside.

Nandi moved to her bed and lay down heavily. She sighed deeply, lying on her back, looking up at the sagging ceiling above her. Her school books lay strewn over her bed from where she had emptied them out of her school bag that morning. She had been looking for the piece of paper then, on which Ntombi had scribbled an address. The address of the Clinic Nandi had been to that morning. At least Ntombi had helped her with that.

Nandi pushed at the books, clearing a space for herself to lie on. Her Maths book was closest to her face, lying there, on her pillow. Nandi flicked through the pages. She was sure she could solve every sum, every problem. Nothing in that book would ever have defeated her.

Nandi shook her head to herself. She had thought that maybe the Maths teacher would have noticed that something was wrong with her. Nandi thought she might have asked, “Why are you always making careless mistakes these days Nandi?” or “Why are your marks dropping so badly?” or “Why are you putting on so much weight Nandi?”

But she hadn’t. Not even she had cared enough to notice.

Nandi sat up. Tears welled up in her eyes and, hardly able to see, she fumbled amongst the books on her bed. She found a blank page and groped for a pen. Nandi began to write.

Mama

I can’t go on. It is all so impossible. I can’t find an answer. You just would not listen. I have tried to speak to you for months now…

Nandi paused in her writing. Someone was fumbling with the door lock. Nandi turned towards the door. Her mother would not be home from work for hours. Nandi stood up as the door was pushed open. She gripped her Maths book against her chest.

***

Tell us what you think: What is wrong with Nandi? Who is coming through the door?