Dr Hope had suspected she might be lying, but she remembered her.
She was Cynthia’s friend. She had actually introduced her as her “sister from another mother”, that afternoon they came for the pregnancy test.
Dr Hope remembered the short dark girl that was all smiles that day. Her smile was even larger than that of her friend who the good news was for.
She had remembered her perfect white dentition, the way it lit up her entire face in the smile.
She had wanted to ask her what brand of tooth cleaner she used. But eventually she asked her what she did for a living. Hoping to hear her mention dentist or actress, she heard pharmacist instead. Dr Hope had been impressed all the same.
But now that she had asked Nurse Bisi to show her the ward where the girl was, “the poor girl”—as she’d referred to her, she had developed a bit of scruple.
Vanessa took a fat breath and pushed the door of the room open.
Mma was fast asleep on the bed.
With a small smile of evil, Vanessa removed the syringe from her bag. It was loaded with the same wickedness that was to be found if one cut open her heart.
She fixed the needle and walked straight to the bed, to the silicon-like sac hanging from its holder above Mma’11s bed.
The plastic sac was half-filled with a bloody liquid. Its long and thin tube travelled all the way to Mma’s wrist.
Vanessa was near the bed when one last step went awry and instead of holding the IV bag to inject her deadly substance, she found herself crashing down the tiled hospital floor.