There I was, sitted unfortunately and thinking of my past and enviable dreams almost being shattered right before my eyes "Not all hope was lost, all hope was lost", these words kept bouncing in my head every moment I tried to relax and toss away my worries, flaws and problems. Could I fix everything? Could I wash my mistakes and make myself new once again?

What is it I was hearing? Screaming, things getting shattered, ferocious languages being used, threats—all in the living room. Still a little child of eight years old, I was usually curious of everything, I often wanted to know and see things that were going on around; heck I loved discovering new things every single day of my life!

The thwack and thud upstairs got louder and kept hitting the door of my room, calling me out to check it out. Something seemed different at that time though, it was serious. My dad even grabbed a case, "I am going to crush that garbage thing you have up there called a head", he said with so much energy and fury and I frightfully gasped.

I detested conflict. Each time they initiated their thing, I was fond of locking myself up in my room and listening to music while painting out my feelings on my tablet with an application my Dad had installed for me, knowing I felt better while doing my art work alone in my comfort zone.

I stopped eaves dropping and turned to slowly walk away when abruptly, I heard a voice say "You think I'm kidding right? Well just watch and see, your daughter Olamide is coming with me to live a better life in the United States!"

It was Dad. I threw a quiet gasp, holding on to my chest dramatically. I earnestly and provokingly flung the door open and bounced into the living room.

"What?!" I exclaimed and placed my left hand behind my little ear, "What did you just say Daddy? There is totally no way I'm leaving this country. If mom isn't going then we all die here in Nigeria." I announced in a staid manner, with folded arms. I was wearing pink shorts and a tank top on a childish chicken designed shoe.

"Go back to your room Steph," Mom said.

I just assumed Dad was using one of his threat jokes, whereby, he would threaten to do something really serious that sounded like he was joking but then he wouldn't do it at all.

I relaxingly released my folded arms and sighed. I slid and turned and cat walked back to where I came from, back to what I was doing, before the quarrel buddies called my parents disrupted.

My life was going great just as I had planned. Ever since I could distinct right from wrong, I dreamed of becoming a famous actress who would be a perfect role model for all and set good, relevant standards for my fans and also who would be of good help to young people out there.

I had the best friends... Not really the best but the ones who were good enough to associate with and a good Lord whom I served always and promised to serve for the rest of my life. I had the best clothes—designers, attended one of the best schools in Lagos, best forged accents from different countries, best well functioned, swift and intelligent brain; an attractive look and personality for a girl of my age... I wouldn't say I was perfect, though I had the most charming qualities, just name it! Excluding the best parents and that frequently made me depressed but I had God beside me so I worried about nothing and feared nothing.

I was a kind of girl who loved nature, I loved animals, I loved colours, I loved colourful animals... just anything as long as it was good, perfect and it made me happy.

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I woke up late, feeling so indolent due to all the things I had earlier worked on for my sales business to get some cash and move into acting school since my parents tossed aside my passion for being on stage. I felt it would be much better if I started off my career on my own; Yes, we were rich but I felt it was needful to struggle on my own. I sluggishly walked out of my room and got to the living room but the house was empty.

"Hello?" I said and just immediately a whole lot of people jumped out of nowhere, "Surprise!!" They yelled and due to the fear they casted upon me, I moved backwards and tripped over a table and fell, sprawling to the ground. I fell and hit my face hard on the floor that it left a deep injury. "What a great start for a birthday" I glowered.

People interfered to help me back up and used a first kit to treat my injured and lumped forehead. My friends, relatives and even teachers from school were there to celebrate my fourteenth birthday with me which I had forgot... Well, almost forgot.

My Aunt took me to the party hall, it was so amazing and wonderful! I slept for so long than usual that I didn't even know people were working out my birthday party.

"Where is Mom?" I asked Aunt Dabira and she hastily replied, still busy with the party, "She went out to get something."

The hall had blazing designs with glitters all around and yellow flowers placed at the corners of the hall, and few pictures of me hung up with little colourful lights everywhere; it was all so shiny.

In no time, I had my party clothes on, which my dad bought for me a week before, and furry nice heels to make me taller so I could feel on top of the world. My dad had left for over six months to the United States and promised to be around to celebrate my birthday with me but there I was, about to blow my candles out and my father was nowhere to be found.

It was all going so ideal, wonderful and exciting!!! I had always wanted my fourteenth birthday to be boom! And Aunt Dabira made everything happen perfectly. I got a lot of presents from friends and had so much fun. Mom arrived with more party stuff and gifts for those invited, it was all going so well and I was so delighted about it until Dad barged in with a large cigarette hung in his mouth. *Arrgh!*

"Happy birthday daughter, you have a wonderful trip as a present. Pack your bags, you're going to Olive Valley," he said and I blew a fuse; I dropped my jaw.

It was so unbelievable that my own biological father cared less about me and left only to return with an idea of taking me away from my mother; and above all, my friends saw my Dad smoking. I was so embarrassed and blue at the same time, in fact I had different emotions rapidly flowing inside of me. I felt like asking God to send a legion of angels from heaven to punish that man greatly for me. Before I knew what was happening, my Mom went to him with extreme violence in action, built up in her right at that point, and again they initiated their usual exercise—quarreling. The party froze and everyone was watching, the drama between whom I would refer to as my parents.

"Stephanie goes no where with you Stephen! You can't even care of yourself or property, let alone a human being. All you will do is throw her out in the streets, in rags to suffer." Mom scowled in extreme anger. Her eyes and the sound of hatred in her words was a reflection.

"Oh gimme a break Mary! You know nothing and that's why our daughter is the way she is, but things are gonna change now. I'm taking her and there's nothing you can do to stop me. I've already gotten clear approval from the court and your parents remember? I take Olamide with me for two years and two years for you also and that's final woman." Dad uttered in a loud and intense manner.

Little by little my eyes started to get clouded with tears of excruciation and just when Dad grabbed two vases and broke them just to show Mom who the boss was, my clouded tears fractured and I ran to my room, weeping.

I fell on the bed with my face placed on a pillow and permeated it with tears of acrimony. I locked my room for no interruptions because I knew definitely someone would try to talk to me or cheer me up which I didn't want to happen. I cried and cried until a cold and heavy headache struck me and I slept off.

In two hours, I woke up and the headache was gone. I knew the Bible taught me to forgive and forget—I was willing to forgive them but I couldn't forget what they had done to me, never.

I heard someone knocking on my door and my Dad spoke, "Olamide open the door and let's talk... father to daughter."

"Pfft!" I muttered and without hesitating, I opened the door and returned to sit on my bed in folded arms.

"Olamide, you know you mean a lot to me right?" He asked and I gave no reply. I pouted my lips and wrinkled my face, indicating displeasure.

"Listen to me, I don't want you to be part of a broken home but your mother and I, we can never work things out, not in this world or the next and you know that. You'll leave Nigeria for a better place. You'll make new friends, white and black and you'll attend a nice school." He said and I was sort of buying the idea but something still badgered me. "What of Mom?" I asked and he replied, "Darling we are soon to get divorced but not to worry, you will get to see her every two years or whenever you feel like it."

I kept wondering about it, I wanted to go abroad but I didn't want to leave my Mom behind.

"And what of my sales business to raise money for acting school?"

"I'll work that out. Why even go to acting school? You've already got the talent in you. I have a friend who deals with things like this for kids like you, he will hook you up with some people and from maybe commercials, you'll start getting important roles in movies!"

*Hmm...* That idea sounded really cool and I bought it already! But then I thought, since I was an only child, who would keep Mom company or stop her from taking detrimental actions like I frequently did? I approved of all Dad said and Mom also had to. It was all so electrifying! I soon had to forget about my birthday wreck and care less about the gossips. Nigerians will always be Nigerians.

I packed my things in no time and in two days, I and my Dad left for our flight to the white man's land.

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Everything was so new to me, I had never been in an aircraft in all my life and there was nothing quite like the wonderful feeling of being on air and seeing the snow white clouds.

I and my Dad sat together but didn't say anything to each other.

"Olamide say something."

"Something," I replied and looked away. He let out a soft laughter and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, trying to get me to lean on his shoulder but I sat stiff and firm in refusal.

"What did I do?" Smiling, he asked.

"Are you kidding me? You did totally nothing! You ruined my birthday party, you and Mom are separated and now, you are trying to take me away from her, so you did absolutely nothing." I sarcastically said and he smiled and patted me softly on the head. "Oh my sweet, sweet daughter. I'm sorry."

I placed my headphones back on and enjoyed the movement of the plane.

Who was I even kidding? They were sort of right to get separated. They fought all the time and had visited up to fifteen therapists—still to zero avail. They constantly dissented to the extent that I had to share names. Dad referred to me as my native name, Olamide, while Mom referred to me as Stephanie. *Bet they argued on my naming ceremony as well.*

My father was from the Western part of Nigeria and my Mom was from the East so yes, they both spoke to me through their languages and expected me to choose one language out of both, which I'd learn. They would also constantly rain abusive words on themselves in those languages. *I wonder why they got married in the first place.*

The neighbours were already used to the raging war in our apartment that they never lacked topics to talk about. They as well asked their kids to stay away from me and claimed that I was a bad influence, just for having such parents.

I was indeed sick of the conflict.