I sit in an armchair in my living room. The table in front of me is stuffed with countless bottles of beer. Some full, some half full, and some empty. I hold a half-burnt roll of weed in my right hand taking little puffs of smoke from time to time. I have been in this state of anarchy for the last 48 hours, doing nothing else other than intoxicating my body with alcohol and getting stoned. I have been only leaving my seat at the call of my running stomach to run to the toilet. The full blast volume on my woofer playing hard Hip-hop music continues to shake the walls of this rented apartment sending tremors to the iron sheet roof. Suddenly, a sharp stabbing pain runs through my growling stomach. It is that time again, I pull myself up and huskily find my way to the toilet.

While crouching on the toilet bowl, a lot of thoughts flash through my head in a quick succession. I fail to concentrate on particular thoughts that I desired to get more clarity on. Many things had happened in a very short time that I felt utterly overwrought. Am now walking on a tightrope, my heart in my mouth, my mind unstable, each step ahead proving to be more dangerous, I may just fall off anytime, fear has taken over my world.

A hard knock is hard on the door. My body jumps into panic mode. My hands are shaking and my nose producing burbles of sweat. " I didn't kill her, am not a killer, soon I'll prove to you that am innocent and... and.. all of you will be ashamed!" I scream out angrily with an unsteady trembling voice from the toilet. The knocking guy does not seem to have heard my defense oration, he knocks even louder. I creep slowly to my bedroom window to peep through the curtains out of curiosity just to confirm if there are a bunch of police officers waiting for me at the front door. It turns out it is my caretaker. He is probably here for the loud music. I retreat to the living room where I turn down the volume on the woofer and then I proceed to open the door. As soon as my head protrudes out of the door, without even bothering to greet me, he goes ahead with his outburst warning me about disturbing other tenants with my "annoying bad taste loud music ." He stresses that if I feel that the rules of this place are too tough for me to abide by, I should leave the residence and find a house where such kind of behavior can be tolerated. As soon as he turns to go, I slam the door behind him and lock it.

The mental recollection of events starts to flood back as I walk and sit on the edge of the table. I just met Sophie last week in the Garden City mall. She was accompanied by her twin sister Rosie. Sophie, was a little taller than Rosie by at least an inch, just like their name -one alphabet longer for Sophie. Each one of them wore a pair of fitting blue jeans trousers, ripped at the knees, with matching denims and a black crop top with a tied knot just above the navel exposing their sexy flat tummies. Their blown shiny blond hair had been twisted into beautiful ponytails and again Sophie's one, a little longer than Rosie's. They looked strikingly amazing. I had just come out of a photoshoot and I met them in the elevator. Carried out by the beauty of the twin sisters, I found myself complimenting them. Now, I feel like that is when Satan started to play his cards on me. They were easy to engage with, so we hit it off well. We had a great conversation and I even offered to push their shopping trolley to their car. We had exchanged contacts, and so we continued to chat the whole night with Sophie and I got to know much about her. She and her twin sister were law students at Stratmore University. This is properly the most expensive and sophisticated university in the whole country. Kids of only millionaires were the ones who could afford to study here and a few others with scholarships. She told me she was in her third year which means she had four more years to go. She refused completely to talk about her father just mentioning that he is a...