BENEATH THE SKIN

Series Three: The Departure ( Seven years later; She's been gone for four)

Then I hear a voice, a voice I would know anywhere. Grandma. “Bring him,” she says from the shadows. “We might as well tell him the truth… before he’s no longer in a position to hear it. The man shoves me forward, and I stumble into the open space in the middle of the basement. Grandma steps out of the shadows, her silk robe dragging along the damp floor, her pearl necklace gleaming in the dim light, her expression not angry, not concerned.... Just cold.

“Kobby,” she says softly, as though we’re meeting in the living room for tea. I told you there were parts of this family’s history you were not ready to hear when your mother died. I glance at Rose, who is trembling now, eyes darting between us. “What does she have to do with any of this?” I ask. My voice sounds foreign in my ears, tight, thin, ready to crack.

Grandma’s lips curl into a small smile. She is history. The man with the gun moves to stand beside her. This is not a love story, boy, this is a debt story. And debts are not erased just because you’ve decided to play the hero.

Grandma steps closer to Rose, runs a finger along her cheek. Rose flinches. “Her father,” Grandma continues, “ruined this family twenty-five years ago. Stole from us, lied to us and tried to destroy us and my daughter, who is your mother, died in the process. He took something from me I can never get back. And so… I took something from him.”

Her hand tightens on Rose’s chin “This beautiful, stubborn girl. ”My head spins. “You’ve kept her here… all these 3 years since the loss of her father, making her miserable? Why? He’s dead, is that not enough to atone for his sins. Grandma’s gaze turns razor-sharp. “Because I wanted him to feel powerless. Just as I did. But he died before he could come begging for her.”

She glances at me, almost amused. “Imagine my surprise when you brought me the perfect chance to make her suffering matter again when you told me about the proposal.”I look at Rose. She’s shaking her head, sobbing silently. “Please, Kobby,” she whispers. “Just go. Forget me.”

The gunman presses the barrel against my temple. “You heard the lady.” I stare at Rose. My Rose. The girl I thought was my beginning. Maybe she’s my ending. Grandma turns away. “Lock them both up. I’ll decide what to do with him in the morning.” The light flickers, the damp smell thickens, and I know this is the moment everything changes. Not for the better, not for love, but for survival. If survival is even still possible.

The door slams shut, and the sound of the bolt sliding into place feels like a sentence being passed. We are in a small stone room, barely lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The air is cold, metallic. Somewhere above us, water drips, steady and maddening. Rose sits in the far corner, hugging her knees, her face half in shadow. For a long time, neither of us spoke. Finally, I crouch beside her. “Rose… tell me the truth about all of it, please.

She doesn’t look at me. Her voice is a rasp. “You were never supposed to find me.”The words cut deeper than the cold. “What does that mean?” She pulls at the hem of her sleeve, avoiding my eyes. “I made a deal with your grandmother. Years ago, when my father was still alive, even though his health was already failing. I told her I would stay here, miserable, unmarried… if she promised not to hurt anyone else I love because I thought she would spare my father.

I blink at her. “Stay here? Rose, this isn’t staying, it's imprisonment.”Her lips tremble. “It’s survival.”Something sharp twists in my chest. “And all the times we were together? All the promises? Was that just” Her head jerks up, eyes glistening. “No. That was real. You’re the only real thing I’ve had in years. But loving you… That’s the one thing she would never allow.”

The drip of water above us feels like a clock ticking toward something inevitable. I reach for her hand. It’s ice cold. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t squeeze back either. She’s going to hurt you, Rose whispers. “She’ll use you to punish me. That’s how she works.”I want to tell her she’s wrong. I’ll find a way out. That love is enough.

But even in this dim light, I see it in her face that she’s already mourning something. Maybe me, her or both. Footsteps approach outside the door, heavy and purposeful as usual. Rose leans close, her breath warm on my ear.

“If she offers you a choice… don’t choose me.”Before I can ask what she means, the bolt scrapes again. The door creaks open, and Grandma steps inside, her smile small, sharp, and final. Grandma steps inside as though she owns the air we breathe, and maybe she does. Her perfume fills the room, heavy and sweet, masking the dampness. She doesn’t look at Rose at first. Only at me.

“You’ve grown,” she says softly, like she’s speaking to the child she used to command. “But you’re still reckless.”I don’t answer. My mouth is dry, and her eyes finally shift to Rose. “And you… You’ve broken the one rule I gave you.” Rose doesn’t move, but her silence is almost defiance.

Grandma clasps her hands in front of her. “I will not drag this out. You have two choices.” She looks at me. “One: You walk away now, leave this compound, leave her, and never look back. You go on with your life, and I will forget this ever happened.” Her gaze hardens. “Two: You stay, but if you stay… she suffers. More than you can imagine.” A sound escapes Rose, not quite a sob, not quite a plea. My heart is pounding, but it’s the kind of pounding that feels muffled, like my body already knows the answer but my mind refuses to hear it.

I force the words out. “Why, Grandma? Why can’t I love her?” “Because I said so,” she says, her voice low and deadly calm. “And because I do not forget where her bloodline comes from. That is enough for me.”Rose finally looks at me, her eyes shining with urgency. “Please… choose the first one.”It’s like being told to rip out my own heart with my bare hands.

Grandma takes a step closer. “I’ll give you until tomorrow at sunrise to decide, but now this hesitation will be taken as an answer.” She turns and leaves, the bolt sliding into place again. The silence that follows isn’t empty; it's suffocating. Rose doesn’t speak, nor do I. We just sit there, our thoughts loud enough to crush us both. And in that silence, I start to realise…No matter what I choose, I am already losing her.

I can’t sleep, Rose doesn't or at least she pretends to. Her back is next to me, she’s breathing steadily, but her fingers keep twitching like she’s holding onto something in a dream. The room is dark, but through the cracked shutter I can see the slow bleeding of night into morning. That faint, cold blue. The colour of surrender. I keep replaying her words. Choose the first one. Every time I hear them in my head, I feel my chest tighten. I want to scream, to shake her, to ask why she’s making it sound so simple when she knows it will kill me.

When the rooster crows somewhere far away, she sits up. “You need to go,” she says with no greeting, no softness, but with urgency. Her eyes are swollen, but dry. She’s cried all the tears she’s willing to. I try to speak, but my throat locks. I can’t find the version of “goodbye” that doesn’t taste like death.

Rose moves to the door and knocks twice, a signal. Moments later, the bolt slides, and one of Grandma’s men stands there, expressionless. She doesn’t even look at me as she says, “He’s ready.” I step past her, but I can’t stop myself from turning back. Just once. Her face is unreadable, like she’s already erased me from her life to make it easier to survive.

The man leads me out into the courtyard, the air is cool, the sky painted with the thin gold of early light. Grandma is there, seated in a wicker chair, a teacup balanced in her hand like a weapon. She doesn’t question my decision. The space beside me is answer enough.

“Good,” she says, then she sips her tea, the faintest smile curling her lips. I walk out of the compound. The gates close behind me with a clang that feels final. By the time I reach the main road, the sun is fully up. I keep walking, but my shadow is still back there, locked in a room with Rose, forever.

It’s been seven years. Seven years of pretending I chose the right thing. Seven years of business trips, hollow relationships, and a life that looks polished from the outside but feels like I’ve been sleepwalking inside it.

But today, I’m back. Grandma’s mansion is quieter now cos she’s dead, the air too still, the walls older. The next compound where Rose lived is overgrown, the gate hanging off one hinge. The paint is peeling, the flower beds strangled with weeds.

I knocked, but no answer. Then I knocked again, harder this time. An old groundskeeper eventually emerges from behind the house. His face is deeply lined, his voice rough with age. “You’re looking for the Mensah family?” he asks. “Yes… Rose. I’m here for Rose.”

He studies me for a long time before shaking his head slowly. “You’re late, boy. Too late.”My chest tightens. “What do you mean?” He sighs. “They left years ago. Her father passed. And… Rose” He swallows, glancing away. “She was married off by your grandmother not long after you left. The marriage didn't last. She… she wasn’t herself after. Got sick and didn’t recover.”

The words hang heavy between us. I feel my knees weaken. “When?” I whisper. “Four years ago.”Four years. Four years she’s been gone, and I’ve been alive in a world without her, not even knowing. The old man shuffles away, leaving me standing at the rusted gate.

I force my feet to move, heading toward the spot in the fence where I once climbed over to crash into her life. The wood is splintered now, the boards loose. I reach out, my hand brushing the rough grain. It feels smaller somehow, or maybe I’m just bigger. Older and emptier.

I close my eyes and try to hear her voice one more time. But there’s only the wind. When I open them, the sun is setting, that same slow bleed of light into darkness. This time, I won't fight it. I turn and walk away, leaving the fence, the house, and the ghost of Rose behind. But in truth, I know I’ll be carrying her forever.