How to die in 5 Easy Steps (A Short-Story)

A while ago, I entered a short story contest requesting writers to submit a story where the 40-year-old main character woke up at 3am on a bridge with a bleeding arm.

I accepted the challenge. This was my entry.

HOW TO DIE IN FIVE EASY STEPS

Nkem,

As a woman, there are certain decisions you have to make in advance. Like when and how to kill a man, where to hide his dirty corpse, and how to steel your soul against your conscience. The last is the hardest but you will prevail because your truth will give you strength.

This is your truth: It is not just about me, it is about every woman like me.

On this altar, conscience transcends into resolve.

It’s nothing personal. It is about the common good. And I have always had resolve.

Nkem, when I was 19, living on every shade of thriller printed on paper, I concluded that I’d rather die than live this life of fear reserved for women. Truthfully, what I initially had in mind was killing myself from within. A slow stonification calculated to drive my instigator mad.

Human nature hates guilt. It is a despicable gnawing that poisons your heart, irritates your veins, and makes living unfathomable. Done right, you could murder a man’s soul, by setting him up against himself, and watch happily as he drags his own carcass down to Sheol. But for this to work, he has to have a conscience. Your brother does not.

There are three great ways to die, and each have five steps. I am writing to explain each step to you because you must not make the same mistake I did and actually die. Nevertheless, this is the right choice for me, and you will soon agree.

It is tiring to keep hearing stories of infidelity and domestic abuse, so I won’t bore you or myself with what Osita has done again. But before I tell you what I must, I need you to understand the difference between a man who casts the pearl necklace he has given you before swine and one who treats you like swine. Whether or not to tolerate the former is entirely up to your discretion and estimation of circumstances, but to accept the latter is the lowest level of self-disrespect.

Tolerance and acceptance are very different things. Tolerance is the reason my left arm is bleeding as I write you. The absence of acceptance is why I’m in your brother’s stupid sports car writing in the first place.

Don’t worry, your brother is still alive. Have I ever been able to take away anything from you, Nkem? Breathe easy, even if he will no longer be able to.

I took the car partly because it’s too new and too gaunty to stay. How could that fool pour all my money into this nonsense? Do you know how long it took to save that? How he got into that account is beyond me. The other reason I took it is because I needed a get-away. Either way, he will never see this car again.

Back to the main issue — how to die. There are many ways to do it that don’t include suicide. There is the stonification I mentioned, there is Sizwe Bansi style, and there is temporary reincarnation (like Sizwe Bansi, but you incarnate into a demon he never knew could exist). I’m very sure you are capable of figuring your way around those three routes if you have to, so I’ve left the money you may need to leave the country or hire a good lawyer. Just talk to Barr. Sope.

Please don’t start tearing up (I know you) because I left you money. Nkem, you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real sister and you will always have my help, whether or not I am alive.

So whichever path you choose, you must not make the same mistakes I did. I have learned the hard way, so you don’t have to. If you are pushed to die, here are the five “easy” steps you need to climb to reach efficiency:

1) Track your menstrual cycle: We have science for a reason. Whatever plan you come up with will involve some audacious moves. You have to be strategic about when you make those moves. This is where your cycle comes in. Nkem, you need to plan for when the testosterone will hit. Let me tell you something, that hormone is where men get their audacity from. They allow themselves to be possessed by it as if it’s a demon, then do as they please and say, ‘boys will be boys. Nne, if we had the same levels as they did, there would be no need to fight for equality. Humans would either be extinct or creating utopia. Na so e dey be when power jam power!

There are good men in this world, but there are too many possessed by this demon for you to live like a fool. I know Ifeanyi is a decent man, but just in case.

When the testosterone rush comes on, days 6–9, take advantage. Make your most decisive strikes. Because, on other days your body may be too up-and-down for your brain to make the quick calculations. DAYS 6–9!

2) Create and fine-tune your smokescreen: death has the strongest effect when it comes by surprise. No one must suspect what is going on in your mind. There has to be a smokescreen. During stonification, it’s smiles and loving eyes that mask vengeance best. When it comes to going Sizwe Bansi, you need to be a little more creative, so either make it look natural or give whoever is helping you a reason for a firm nod at secrecy. However, with becoming a full-blown antagonist, the best smokescreen is dirty laundry — that’s what I chose. Find it but do so anonymously. Then air it deliciously.

Your brother’s smelly boxers will be in three national dailies tomorrow. He’ll never recover from it. His entire business will fall to pieces in twenty-four painful hours.

The only chance at redemption he could possiblyhave is politics — the forgiver of all sins and scandals — but Osi is not a politician, and even if he had the chance of learning to be one, that potential would be rotting away with him in prison.

3) Leave your loved ones well: It’s hard to die comfortably when you keep thinking about those you love. Set them up, maybe the way I’ve set you up. But always leave instructions so they can gain peace from knowing what you would want them to do.

4) Choose your substance: There will come a time when you’ll have to step away, so you can stay clean from the mess he has become. It might not be easy to flick him off like a bug, so you’ll have to put him to sleep. Try tramadol. If you feed him enough (put it in food), you could be home free before he remembers what his name is.

This is not always necessary. But I hate loopholes.

5) Avoid confrontation: Closure can be such a stupid thing. You need to be immune from it. Resist the temptation to look him in the face and lecture him on just how intricately, how fabulously, how absolutely gloriously you have ruined him beyond resurrection. Because maybe he has a gun. You may be lucky, and his aim is as horrid as his mind. So what was meant for your heart passes through your arm, and you have enough time between his gasps of horror from thinking you’re lying dead to grab that whiskey bottle on the ground and decorate his coconut head.

That’s it. Everything I’ve learned.

Oh and Nkem?

I love you deeply. I planned to see you again, but every disappointment is a blessing in disguise. This bleeding arm is a bonus because it means your concussed brother is going in for, at least, manslaughter. I can’t stop it even if I wanted to. You know how hospitals are with gunshot wounds. And your idiot brother didn’t even have the brains to use a knife. He knows I’m diabetic, but he’s just an all-around fool.

I was supposed to see you again.

I sent Barr. Sope a video. I was going to send you one too, but I seem to have dosed off or fallen unconscious at some point because the next thing I knew, it was 3am somewhere on Third Mainland Bridge, and I looked like shit. How I drove here, I do not know. What I know is that if I’m going to be seen looking like shit, the eyes have to be over my dead body.

Smile Nkem! That was a joke!

I’m actually sorry I’ll miss your wedding, but it isn’t I who have taken my presence away from you. It’s your Osita.

So, hopefully, no one ever takes life away from you the way your brother took from me and you’ll never need my advice.

Happy married life!

Your friend,

C

Note to readers: Should you ever need to disappear under mysterious circumstances, I hope you find such a worthy guide as this.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

This story is dedicated to a fabulous woman, my friend Amina! Happy birthday baby gworl.

If you are also a fabulous African woman or know one, I think you might enjoy this post next. Don’t forget to subscribe to the critical weirdness.