Afterward, we decided not to sleep at the facility and headed out to a vibrant town on the outskirts of the capital where we booked the hotel we planned to party one last time before the graduation ceremony .

  That Saturday night was an unforgettable whirlwind of laughter and music. I can still picture the club we went to, its entrance pulsating with energy and anticipation. The bass thumped through the walls, reverberating in my chest as we stepped inside. The moment we crossed the threshold, I was hit by a wave of sensory overload—the scratchy itch of the wristband on my wrist mingled with the intoxicating scent of gin and the unmistakable tang of weed that hung thick in the air.

  The blinding lights flashed in a dizzying array of colors, illuminating the crowded dance floor where bodies moved in sync with the relentless beat. The DJ spun a mix of tracks that seemed to connect us all, each song igniting a spark of joy. But amidst the chaos, one image stood out above all: Irma.

  She was a vision of carefree exuberance, clad in black jeans that hugged her figure and a cropped top that shimmered under the strobe lights. Her laughter rang out, bright and infectious, cutting through the thrum of the music. Captivated, I watched as she swayed and twirled, her breath reeking of vodka—a testament to the fun we were having.

  The night unfolded like a vivid dream, marked by the echoes of our shared laughter and the warmth of our friendship. We drank liberally, letting the spirits loosen our inhibitions, and by the time we stumbled out of the club at half-past two, I felt a mix of exhilaration and fatigue. The cold night air hit us like a splash of ice water, sharp and refreshing against my flushed skin.

  As we walked, the world felt surreal. We were a little too loud, a little too carefree, and then a truck driver shouted at us, his face twisted in anger as we meandered down the middle of the road. Irma, ever the bold one, shouted something cheeky back before we burst into giggles, the driver’s fury fading into the background of our revelry.

  The night took a turn then when a group of guys approached us, their intentions evident in their smug smiles. In a moment of pure chaotic humor, Irma suddenly vomited on them, the unexpected sight sending us into fits of laughter. “Sorry!” she managed between giggles, her face a mix of embarrassment and amusement. Quickly, we decided it was time to retreat and hopped into a cab, our laughter echoing inside as we settled into the back seat.

  The driver, Job Kamara, was a stoic figure, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance as we hung out of the windows, singing at the top of our lungs. The cool breeze whipped through our hair, and we tipped him handsomely when we arrived back at our hotel at three o’clock, our hearts still racing from the night’s adventures.

  Once inside, the hotel room felt like a sanctuary from the chaos outside. Irma, still buzzing with energy, flopped onto the bed and grabbed the hotel landline.

  "What are you doing?" I asked, bewildered.

  "Hot wings and some pizza. That’s what I need to satisfy my palate." Irma said while dialing the front desk.

  "You’re not serious."

  "Yes, I want room service—just hot wings and pizza. It’ll be here in two minutes. Fantastic… No, I don’t need anything else." She hung up the phone, turning to me, "What are we watching?"

  "I weirdly want to watch a slasher film." I replied, browsing through the TV options. "Next week, are you going to stay, or head straight to Europe?"

  "I'll head back home for a couple of days, but by Thursday, I’ll be in Europe." Irma answered.

  "For how long?"

  Just then, the doorbell rang, and Irma walked to the door. The waiter wheeled in the food and left, "What did you ask again?" Irma said as she took a plate of wings and pizza.

  "How long will this assignment take?"

  "I don’t know. I read through some of the files, and they seem disorganized, but they could still be dangerous." she replied, biting into a slice of pizza.

  "I guess. But who are these rogue hunters?"

  "Nobody serious. Most of them were in the last 50 in their respective classes when they graduated, but the leader was in the top 3... I can’t seem to find the words. Yes, got it. He’s always maintained his position in the top 3 since starting training, and he’s the reason for my caution." Irma explained.

  "Why would someone that highly rated suddenly change like that?" I asked, but as I looked over at her, I noticed Irma had passed out, a plate resting on her chest. I got up, removed her shoes, took the plate off her, and tucked her in bed before heading to my own.

  When I woke up, Irma was groaning so I just headed to the pharmacy for to get something for me and Irma hangover and after went to the restaurant for my meal and called Theo, "Hey."

  "Hey, how is the trip?" Theo asked.

  "It been memorable and Irma vomited on some guys."

  "She can't hold her liqual... I am glad you called but since we are done with school and we can continue were we left off, right?" Theo asked.

  "I see no problem with that." I said smiling.

  "Thank god, what are your plans after this finishing school or just continue being a hunter?" Theo asked.

  "A long 6 month vacation and then I will start my hunter duites, what about you?"

  "You know my family I will start the day after the graduate ceremony." Theo explained.

  "So, long distant huh?"

  "We will live for a long time Gugu and this is just for a couple of months for you I have no problem having a long distance relationship... I gotta to go but have a safe trip to the fort, bye and I love you." Theo said.

  "I love you too." I said while hanging up the call and i finished my meal and headed back to my room and I walked in on Irma clutching her head. She grabbed her phone to check the time. "What the fu—"

  "Good afternoon." I said while packing my clothes.

  "What happened?" she asked.

  "This tiny Russian fella came out of nowhere and sucker-punched you. You tried to fight him, but he knocked you out." I grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-bar and headache pills from my bag, then brought both to her.

  "Thanks." Irma said, taking the pills and gulping down the water.

  "We should head out. There’s a storm coming." I pointed out.

  "It’s already 3 o’clock! We’ll be caught in it!" she protested.

  "It’s an 18-hour drive. There won’t be any fights for a couple of days because of the storm. If we leave now, we’ll make it by midday tomorrow, just an hour and a half after the ceremony starts, since it begins at half-past one. I’ll use the back roads to avoid most of the storm, and the detour will save us four hours, giving us time to freshen up before the ceremony."

  "Fine. I’ll get changed, and we’ll head out." Irma conceded, heading to the bathroom. When she returned, I handed her sunglasses.

  "What’s this for?" she asked.

  "Hangovers and bright lights don’t go hand in hand, and I’ve already packed my bags and yours. These were the last clean clothes you have, so let’s go." I took a pill for the drive back.

  "Okay, you sure you should be taking those?" Irma asked.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "Yeah I need the energy and I know the drop off means moving like a snail and fogs my mind but that's when you will take over driving duties." I explained.

  "Okay." Irma said.

  We checked out of the hotel and got in the van from the valet. Irma fell asleep in the back, her head leaning against the window, oblivious to the world outside. The first couple of hours were uneventful, just the steady hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of Irma shifting in her sleep. I turned up the radio, trying to drown out the monotony of the road.

  But as we passed the last sign of civilization, the sky darkened as I started to fade within the next hour but the sound of hail pummeling the van was deafening and kept me awake but my body was heavy and my eyes were shutting down with each hit reverberating through the metal frame. I gripped the steering wheel, squinting through sheets of rain as visibility plummeted. There was no shelter in sight, just the endless stretch of road disappearing into the grey.

  I glanced at the speedometer—it read 130 km/h. If we could make it to the next town, an hour away, we could wait out the storm in safety. My heart raced as adrenaline kept me going for nearly an hour but I could feel it and I was done but I tired to continue as I pressed the accelerator, feeling the engine roar beneath me, but the van swayed dangerously in the wind and I saw it too late sharp turn as we were driving through a moutain and I was speeding and tried to turn left but I hit a pothole and burst a tire the sound like a gunshot.

  The van jolted violently before I could react we had already crash through the guardrail and we started rolling down the hill. Time seemed to slow as the world flipped upside down. Glass shattered, mingling with the storm, and I braced myself against the seat, praying for the chaos to end. A tree branch crashed through the window, and I blacked out.

  When I regained consciousness, I was hanging upside down in the van. Dazed, I ripped through my seatbelt and fell, landing awkwardly on the broken glass. Cold rain soaked my skin as I called out for Irma. Struggling to walk, I used the van for support and made my way to her.

  Finding her upper body draped over a suitcase, hanging out the back window, sent a jolt of panic through me. Her face was..." Why won't my hands stop trembling?

  "Take your time." Mrs. Lane said gently.

  “I barely recognized her. It felt surreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. I grabbed her and run into town and I headed straight to the hospitals and when I got there I blacked out. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed, heavy with the weight of what had happened. A week slipped by in a haze, and when I finally woke up for longer, I felt a hand squeezing mine. It was my mother.

  “Mmmmooo…”

  Thandeka rushed toward me, enveloping me in her arms. “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head. The doctor came in to check on me, and afterward, I looked at my mom for answers, “Are you alone?”

  “No, your father went to the airport to fetch your sister. She just arrived.” she replied.

  “What about Irma?” I pressed, searching my mother’s eyes for reassurance.

  But she couldn’t meet my gaze, “I’m so sorry, Gugu. Irma... she is brain dead.”

  The words hit me like a brick. A cold wave of disbelief washed over me, “No... no, she can’t be gone,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

  My mother held me tightly, but all I felt was numbness. I couldn’t even remember what she said next. Minutes felt like hours until a doctor who gave us space came back to check on me but I didn’t hear anything he said. The days that followed—I was lost in a fog. One moment I was in that sterile hospital room, and then I was on a plane, fleeing everything.

  Years passed, trapping me in a darkness I felt was my fault Thoe kept on coming but after 3 years he stopped but I was numb to it all. On good days, I’d visit St. Marylin Hospital, sitting on a park bench, daydreaming about that terrible day. When the hail began to fall, I’d escape to the forest, finding shelter beneath a massive tree. There, I’d imagine Irma waking up, her brown eyes sparkling with laughter, sharing corny jokes until the rain stopped.

  “Do you still daydream about taking a different action that day?” Ms. Lane asked.

  “Yes, but not as often as I used to.” I admitted.

  “The shooting of Mandy and the accident with Irma—what’s the common denominator?” she pressed.

  “Me.” I replied, the weight settling on my chest.

  “And?” Mrs. Lane asked.

  “My choices.” I said flatly.

  “What about the aftermath?” she continued.

  “I shell up like I did after finding out about Irma. I criticize myself harshly.”

  “You can never go back.” Ms. Lane reminded me. “You can't turn back time or stop yourself from shooting Mandy. It has already happened.”

  She could give Bruce a run for his money with her detective skills, “So, what should I do then?”

  “Accept it. Both actions. No one knows where life truly starts or ends. Blaming yourself is easy, but you need to look deeper.” Ms. Lane pointed out.

  “There’s nothing deeper.” I scoffed.

  “Really? You knew before the trip you would be in an accident, and your best friend would end up brain dead?” Ms Lane asked.

  “No, I was impulsive, just like Irma. If I had paid more attention to the storm instead of looking for shortcuts, I would have realized we needed to wait it out.”

  “What about the Mandy incident? You’re a trained hunter. You knew something your team didn’t.” Ms lane pointed out.

  “If I had spoken up, we could have changed our strategy. Penelope is an Atlantean princess; Mandy presence was of a subterranean I can't mistake that feeling and them fighting could have sparked an international incident. We would have talked to Mandy instead of fighting.”

  “Exactly. You need to slow down and think before acting on impulse. What caused you to lose that focus during the raid?” Ms. Lane asked.

  “I lost to Penelope... I guess I just wanted to hurt Mandy.”

  “Why?” Mrs. Lane pressed.

  “Someone I care about was hurt. He hit her, and when I was fighting Mandy, I just lost control.” I wanted to take my anger out on her for constantly losing to Penelope and not being able to protect Pretty.

  “Gugu, if you want to be an agent, you need to compartmentalize your personal and work life. If one spills over into the other, this incident could happen again.” Ms. Lane said.

  “Okay.”

  As the session wound down, Ms. Lane shifted the focus to my current life, “How are you coping? With life?”

  “School is easy; it always has been. The material is straightforward. My real struggle is connecting with others.” or it was a struggle.

  “Like your boyfriend?” Mrs. Lane asked.

  “Will is fine. He treats me well. I guess I got lucky.” And that ass.

  “What do you mean by ‘I guess’?” Mrs. Lane asked.

  “I don’t open up. That’s always been hard for me in dating.” But not with Will.

  “Why?” Mrs. Lane pressed.

  “Labels mean it’s real, and I have to expose myself.”

  “Have you had casual flings?” she asked, cutting to the chase.

  “Yes.” after Theo and I ended.

  “Did any of your casual flings want more?” she asked.

  “Yeah, they did.”

  “When one of your flings wanted more, you cut them off because you subconsciously believed they wouldn’t like the real you.” Mrs. Lane pointed out.

  “No… maybe.” But not currently.

  “Because of Irma?” Mrs. Lane asked.

  “What about Irma?” I asked.

  “She was your best friend. She saw the real you, not the mask you wear in public. She loved you ” Mrs. Lane replied.

  “What’s your point?” I don't do that now.

  “Do you hate Irma?” Ms. Lane asked.

  I shook my head, revulsion etched on my face, “What! I love her!”

  “That’s not what I asked.” Ms lane pointed out.

  “No, and why would you ask that?” relax Gugu so don't get arrested for assault.

  “Your description of Irma is poetic, but when you talk about yourself, you judge, criticize, and belittle yourself.” Mrs. Lane pointed out.

  “So?” I did do that and still do when talking about Irma.

  “The reasons you love her are the reasons you haven’t dated anyone.” Mrs. Lane replied.

  “Yeah! Right.” My two boyfriends don't exist.

  “She is the sun, and you are a planet.” Mrs. Lane said.

  “What?” Confusion flooded my mind.

  “You need her, but she doesn’t need you.” Mrs. Lane explained.

  “That’s harsh.”

  “That’s why you didn’t believe any of your physical relationships were anything more. Why would they want you instead of her?” Mrs. Lane asked.

  “So, I’m insecure?”

  “No, it’s just that Irma’s personality is larger than life, casting a shadow you’ve always lived in. That affected your self-esteem and self-worth.” Mrs. Lane explained.

  “Whatever.”

  “Now that Irma isn’t in your life, you’ve opened up, gotten a new boyfriend, and made close friends.” Mrs. Lane added.

  “I should be happy that my friend is brain dead?” I asked.

  “Don’t dwell on dualism.” Mrs. Lane said.

  “What?”

  “Duality helps us make sense of chaos. Life isn’t just one thing or another. You need to accept that you can have conflicting opinions. Irma is a dear friend, but without her, you’ve built healthy relationships.” Mrs. Lane explained.

  I nodded, a flicker of understanding sparking within me.

  “How did you get back to living your life after the accident?” Mrs. Lane asked.

  “My sister took me to S?o Paulo, and we traveled through South America. Slowly, I came out of my shell. It took years to get off my medication, I wanted to finish school and started again at grade three. That’s when I met Pretty, who grounded me. Then there were Liz, Anni, Theresa. My life grew richer. My family supported me through it all, and I’m eternally grateful.” I really am happy and lucky.

  “Okay, our time is up,” Mrs. Lane said.

  “Oh! Okay.”

  “It’s great you have people to rely on. It’s crucial for balancing your life as an agent.” Mrs. Lane added.

  “Thank you. You’ve helped me clear my head.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Goodbye.” Mrs. Lane said.

  “Bye.” I replied before leaving the room.

  For the first time in years, I headed to the hospital where Irma was. I slipped into her room, and there she was. Her face was still misshapen, but I could look at her and whispered, “Hello… I don’t know what to say except that I miss you, and I’m sorry for not coming sooner. I just couldn’t stand to see you like this. I will search the galaxy to find a way to bring you back to your peak condition.” I kissed her forehead and slipped out before anyone caught me.

  When I got home, Pretty was watching a movie. She turned to me, concern etched on her face, “Where have you been?”

  “I had my psych evaluation.” I said while standing on the doorway.

  “Bad news?” Pretty asked.

  “No, I got cleared.” I said while I walked in and closed the door.

  “That’s bad?” she asked, confused.

  “No, just one of those days.” I droped my bsg on my chair and climbed into bed, resting my head on her shoulder.

  “Say no more.” Pretty said.

  “What are you watching?”

  “Mountain Sharks.” Pretty responded.

  “Mountain sharks?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

  “A prehistoric shark fossil was combined with modern shark DNA, creating a new species. After a failed experiment, they mutated and can now swim in rocks.” Pretty explained.

  I laughed at the absurdity, “That sounds awful and awesome. There’s nothing like a terrible movie to lighten my day.”