Ranti, the pauper of yesterday, Outcast of the Mommodu family, had suddenly become royalty. It was difficult to tell if the tears falling like raindrops down her eyes were those precipitated by joy or sorrow.
“There is no need to cry, the worst is over,” Keji spoke with empathy.
Ranti stared into the eyes of the beautiful lady who consoled her, it was almost unbelievable, they looked exactly the same.
The news of the ‘dead’ princess who was miraculously found alive had spread through the four corners of Tijaku Kingdom. The joyful feeling of being celebrated was absolutely new to Ranti. All her life, she had been called ‘the rejected one; the cursed child.
Oh! how she wished the hands of time could be turned back to erase the terrible memories created while slaving away at the Mommodu mansion.
She had discovered her position as the adopted child of the family in her teenage years. It came as a rude shock and a painful awakening. Apparently she had been adopted as an infant from a renowned orphanage by Mr. and Mrs. Gbenga Mommodu. Ranti came across the adoption papers in the master bedroom on one of the days she had been assigned to clean it. The documents were left lying fallow on the bedside table as though they were meant for her visual consumption.
Apparently, the young couple had tried and failed at conceiving six years into wedlock. Even the best fertility clinics, both home and abroad were unsuccessful with the numerous invitro procedures that had been carried out. Ranti was the alternate plan.
Initially, when she was all they had, Mr. and Mrs. Mommodu showered her with relentless love. Things however took a drastic turn two years down the line, when Bola Mommodu, the couple’s only biological child was brought to life.
The Mommodus’ were anything but nice to Ranti thereafter. The only privilege given to her was the right to a formal education. This however did not come on a platter of gold. She had to earn it by perfoming all sorts of menial tasks available at the Mommodu mansion. She cleaned, cooked and hawked foodstuffs after school hours, the cumulative funds generated from selling on the dangerous streets of broad way were obviously peanuts to her adoptive parents. They only thrived on the satisfaction of seeing her suffer. Almost everyone who came visiting assumed she was one of the maids and not an actual member of the family.
Bola was a spoilt brat; she basked in the glory of being the only legitimate child of the Mommodu family, so much so that she discouraged everyone from getting close to Ranti. The hurtful words she uttered in secondary school remained vivid in Ranti’s mind;
“She is our dirty maid, my parents are only benevolent enough to send her to school. Please don’t bother getting close to a low life like her,” Bola usually reiterated with disgust.
Ranti’s greatest regret in life was ever thinking Bola could show her real sibling love. Rather than love, her ‘supposed’ sister exuded hatred and jealousy. One would wonder if there was more to Bola’s terrible attitude towards Ranti. Their parents certainly did not help the situation.
It was difficult to forget that fateful night when Ranti was dealt with one of life’s biggest blows. She lost her virginity in the most cruel manner. The worst part of the situation was that her sister had been the master mind behind the unfortunate incident. The devilish smile on Bola’s face while she watched the notorious boys of BAO university, gang rape her was what hurt Ranti the most. There was no one to console or get justice for the grievous crimes committed against her. Even if she tried, Mr. and Mrs. Mommodu would have called her a liar considering their precious child; Bola was involved.
The aftermath of the gang rape was the pregnancy she terminated in the hands of a mediocre Nursing assistant. It wasn’t really the pain from the procedure that brought her sorrow, it was the complication that followed the poorly performed procedure.
She had been bleeding lightly after the procedure but sought no care, It was during one of her numerous menial tasks in the house that she lost consciousness. Mrs. Mommodu walked into the living room and met a still body of her elder daughter on the floor with a blood stained undergarment. She screamed and immediately rushed to check if Ranti was alive.
Working as a social worker in a teaching hospital had given her sparse knowledge on medical basics. Her heart leapt with joy when she felt Ranti’s carotid pulse. She immediately beckoned on John; the family driver and they headed for the University teaching hospital.
