Petite

All Rights Reserved ©

8 - Daniel Dele Animashaun

Daniel's POV:

My sister's hatred for her body is growing day by day. I can't just imagine myself with that much hate for…myself.

It's not that she not pretty or she's totally skinny that her bones are out; kneecaps, elbows, ankles and all. She looks real good. She's slime. Not thin-the way she likes to see herself.

She doesn't have to tell me she hates her body, I can see it in her eyes when she sees a really nice bodycon gown and hear the pain in her voice when I get her to talk about thick girls.

She didn't wear a gown on her graduation day but she wore a nice big suit with heels, which was very nice.

No one knew how her curves looked like underneath all those baggy clothes. Not even I.

I had yet the courage to spy on her while she's taking a bath or putting on her clothes I don't have the mind and besides, Tiwa will definitely avoid and hate me for life.

I'd rather not cross my line.

I know someday, she's going to love her body and her size. I just pray that day can be soon.

I don't want to say "someone". It's weird and creepy imagining someone teaching my sister how to love her body with his hands all over-no! I'm not starting now.

"What do you think college will be like?" she asks. Bringing me down to earth.

I'm in her room and laying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling with her by my side.

"Fun. Wild. Tiring. Adventurous. Freedom. A glimpse of life." I list just a few number of things of my own experience.

She sighs heavily.

"I guess for you it would be…it should be fun."

"What makes you think so?" She asks in a curious tone.

"You are a really good disc jockey. It wouldn't take long before one of your schoolmates discover you and before you know it, you're DJing in the schools party and everywhere."

While i love expressing myself in front of a camera, Tiwa loves being behind a… whatever those DJ things are called and working her magic.

My little sister's love for music is beyond imagination. She listens to different genres of music and—i still don't know how people pick a favourite artiste but she's one of em and her best artiste is Bashar Barakah Jackson.

A.k.A; Pop smoke. The woo!

She made a mix of his songs and listens to it herself until I forced her to share the mix on iTunes.

During holidays, I had friends over. The ones who loves to party and have fun and with every blood in my system, I pleaded with my sister to be the disc jockey for those parties.

Of course, she declined.

She didn't want to expose herself all in the name of "What will I wear? If I wear big clothes I will be judged, if I wear tight clothes, I'm so skinny"—she said many more trash.

On my 20th birthday, she looked more like Billie ellish.

The little difference was she was in black braids and Billie ellish is mostly on green hair.

I paid her for services and Tiwa didn't disappoint. She did brilliantly well. I wanted to gave out her email address to whoever that wanted to reach out to her for service.

Of course, she declined again.

The stress I go through for this girl.

"Please don't start," Sophia says. "Don't come and ruin the moment please."

"Fine."

"Have you seen Dad since? I think he just dropped lollipop girl here and disappeared again." she says in a small tone filled with hurt.

Guilt stabs at my heart but somethings are best kept hidden.

"I don't know. He'll be back." I heave a sigh. "Has he spoken to you since he got back?"

She scoffs.

Dad brought in a mistress and mum has never been the same. It's been just two days yet the tension and sadness in this house feels like it's over a month old.

My parents has been through too much to actually have another issue right now and Diane surely does not want to be in middle if she knew.

The two had battled tribalistic parents and a wild lifestyle to be separated by a mistress.

My dad's family was one of those tribalistic people who believed tribes should stick to their own tribes.

With my mom being Igbo and my dad, Yoruba. They wanted someone from their side. They gave other stupid excuses for not wanting them to go ahead; my mom's wild lifestyle back then and her not so classy background.

But that didn't stop their love, so this won't.

Even when things went South when my mom was pregnant with me and had no idea, my dad left and she went back to her drinking and clubbing, they still got back together but I guess, there already was, a crack.

Vancouver is one place, my parents never like to visit.

But somehow the events of that place follows us everywhere.

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.