Betrayed by my Stepsister, Saved by Love

It was her faith that gave her peace, especially after hearing her mother's story about a dear friend named Ella, a friend who had lived fast, loved wild, and died young.

One rainy afternoon, Star had walked into her mother's room quietly to drop off her food. Her mother, Peace, was staring out of the window, silent and lost in thought.

"Mummy," Star said gently, "your food is here."

Peace didn't respond at first. Then she turned slowly and said like someone that have been missing something,

"Have I ever told you about Ella?"

Star shook her head and walked to her mother, who had slimmed down and lost a lot of weight. She prefers smoking weeds to eating good food, but Star will never get tired of bringing good food for her one and only mother.

"Ella was my only friend. We reconnected when I just gave birth to you, and she connected with Chike, your step-dad. everything together…She didn't live a good life thou, but she was not to be blamed as circumstances gave her no choice. But what she didn't know was that the life she lived was draining her soul."

Peace paused and swallowed. Her eyes glistened.

"She was addicted to drugs and smoking… that's how I ended up becoming one, thinking it's a relief to my depression, more especially as your step-dad put me in a condition where I hate myself every day, but I hold on to this marriage because of you. I'm too weak to work now, and you need a shelter and assistance so you will never be stranded like me," she said with a sad, distant voice. 

"Mummy, what about Ella, what about her?" Star asked, feeling bad for whoever the lady is.

"The worst happened. She was diagnosed with liver cancer. The doctors gave her months to live."

Star gasped, her chest tightening. She immediately feared and hoped that that won't happen to her mother, whose life is slowly fading away.

"But in that dark moment, something beautiful happened," Peace continued. 

"While she was in her hospital bed, the Catholic Legionaries came to visit. They told her about Jesus, the owner of every living soul. That was the first time in her life she listened to anything about God. And she gave her life to Him, right there on that bed."

Star couldn't stand any longer, she slowly bent and sat on the floor, close to her mother's feet.

"She couldn't talk much in her last days, but she wrote something powerful, something she told them to carve on her grave. It was her letter to the world."

"I read that months ago...", Star replied.

She would never forget the first time she read Ella's letter. Her mother had written it in her old journal.

It read:

" From the grave of Ella, aged 29

Writing from my twenty-nine-year journey in this world, I boldly tell you, reading this post, that this world is vanity upon vanity.

Your decision and actions today can ruin your life tomorrow. I lived a bad life, but I just found eternal life.

I gave myself to pleasure, parties, and drugs. I thought I was living… but I was dying slowly. Depression made me turn to drugs. But Jesus was the answer.

How I wish I could turn back the hands of time. I would never have accepted that one offer that killed my soul.

But thank God I found Him, even on my sick bed. He woke my soul. My days are numbered on this earth. Please don't ever end up like me."

Star had closed the journal with trembling hands, tears falling silently down her cheeks.

The letter that was written years ago, when she was still tender, was more than just a warning; it was guidance to her.

A message from someone who had touched the bottom of life but had found light before the end. It reminded Star that living right wasn't just about doing well in school or dancing in front of crowds, it was about honoring God, loving people, and guarding her soul.

Since then, she made a promise to herself:

"I will live a life worth writing about, not on a grave, but while I still have breath."

 One would have thought her mother, Peace, would be touched, maybe changed by her late friend's painful story, and especially as the lady lost her life on the line. But instead, she drowned deeper into the very thing that destroyed Ella, and spiraled even worse.

Peace became worse. It was as if Ella's death only opened a door wider for her to enter into darkness. She smoked more, sniffed more, and lost what little self-control she had left. Star was raised more by Mma, the cook, and as she grew, she watched helplessly as her mother slipped further into addiction, day by day, puff by puff.

Her father, or rather, her stepfather, was hardly ever around. He traveled often, chasing business deals, hosting weekend yacht parties in Lagos, or dining with politicians and women with painted lips and greedy eyes.

At home, it was just Star, Purple, and the crew of silent workers: Mma the cook, Mr. Johnson the driver, Bakunle the gardener, and Mr. Ojo the gate-man.

Purple had her world, rich girl friends, loud laughter, designer bags, constant photo sessions, and her clique of spoiled teenagers who acted like they ruled the world. Star, on the other hand, lived like a visitor in the house she grew up in.

And her mother? A shadow of herself.

Star had tried many times. She had begged, prayed, hidden the drugs, flushed the weeds, cried, shouted, pleaded. But nothing worked. The more her stepfather's luxurious life blinded Peace, the more addicted she became. Her mother's brain was no longer the same.

Her body had aged rapidly, her beauty eaten up by addiction. Her mood changed constantly, sometimes calm, sometimes confused, sometimes paranoid. And the sight of her mother now left Star shattered every time.

But she never stopped praying. She knelt each night with folded hands, whispering her cries to heaven.

"Lord, heal my mum… please heal her…"

That Friday afternoon, Star stood in the living room for a long time, lost in thought. Her eyes were fixed on nothing in particular. Everywhere just feels too empty. The air felt heavier than usual, and her chest ached.

She blinked and looked around. Everything seemed slower today. Her body felt heavy, her soul unsettled. Something wasn't right.

She turned and began walking upstairs, her school bag still strapped to her back. It was as if something was pulling her feet towards her mother's room. She hesitated briefly in front of the door, then lifted her hand to knock.

"Knock. Knock." But there was silence.

She knocked again, a little harder.

"Mummy?" she called softly, but there was no answer.

Surprised, she tried the doorknob. It wasn't locked, which was rare. Peace usually kept the door shut, even during the day. She locks herself inside all day. Star opened the door and stepped in slowly.

"Mum, I made it!" she said with a hopeful smile, expecting her to be lying on the bed, half asleep like usual.

But the room was empty. Her smile faded.

"Mummy?" she called again, her voice rising.

"Mummy!", but there was no response.

Already feeling worried, she rushed to the bathroom. And there, on the cold tiled floor, lay Peace, motionless.

"Oh Mum!" Star gasped, dropping to her knees.

Her mother was lying awkwardly on the floor, half-turned, her arm stretched out as if she had tried to reach for something. Her eyes were wide open. There was white foam at the corners of her mouth, and her lips were dry and pale. Her skin was cold, too cold.

Star trembled as she reached for her mother's hand. It felt like ice.

"Why are you lying on the bathroom cold floor?" she asked in a shaky voice, trying to smile through the shock.

"Mummy, get up… I passed my WAEC Exam. I made it!", but there was no movement.

"Mummy, stop it. This isn't funny," she whispered, leaning closer, trying to listen to her breathing.

But there was none.

"Jesus…" she gasped, her whole body beginning to shake. Drugs were scattered all around the floor, some crushed, some half-opened. The smell of alcohol and weed mixed in the air. It hit her throat like poison.

"What has she done to herself this time?" Star cried. Star knew her mom had overdosed. 

She pushed her mother's shoulder gently, wiping off the white foam in her mouth, but there was no response.

Her heart began to race uncontrollably. She leaned in, placed her ear against her chest.

Nothing.

"Mummy! Wake up!" she screamed, panic overtaking her.

Her voice was heard through the house.

Mr. Johnson heard the scream while washing Purple's car in the backyard. He quickly dropped the hose and ran towards the house.

By the time he and Mma reached the bathroom, Star was already screaming uncontrollably.

"Move aside, Star," Mr. Johnson said firmly but gently.

Star crawled backward, tears rushing down her cheeks.

Mr. Johnson knelt, checked Peace's pulse, then slowly shook his head. He turned to Mma.

"Please… take Star away," he said quietly.

Mma's eyes widened. "No…"

"Peace is gone. She's… dead."

Star stared at him in disbelief, her mouth open, frozen. It felt like time had stopped. Her lips moved, but no words came out.

"No… you're lying," she said faintly. "This is just a nightmare. I need to wake up…"

Ojo entered the room shocked seeing the woman, but then Mr. Johnson said,

"Ojo, help me carry her downstairs. We need to make some calls to Oga and call an ambulance on his order."

That was the moment it sank in.

Star's legs gave way, and she felt cold goosebumps all over her body.

"Noooo!" she wailed. "Mummy! No!"

She tried to run to her mother, but Mma grabbed her and held her tightly, both of them crying.

As Mr. Johnson and Ojo lifted the lifeless body from the floor, Star felt her world collapsing. Her knees hit the floor. Her vision blurred. Her breath caught.

Just like that… she had become an orphan.

She was still watching them carry the body when her sight suddenly darkened.

Then everything went blank. Star fainted.