"What Should I do? It wasn't My Intention For Her To Die"

One afternoon, I realized I had run out of sugar. The thought of stepping out to get some felt like an unnecessary bother, especially since it was such a hot day. As I sat on my porch, I noticed Adebisi, the young girl from next door, playing outside. Her laughter echoed in the air as she skipped along the path, her joy contagious. Without much thought, I called her over and handed her some money.

“Could you help me buy some sugar from the shop down the road, my dear?” I asked her, my voice gentle. She nodded eagerly, always so willing to help, and dashed off toward the main road.

I settled back into my chair, waiting for her to return, but within minutes, I heard the screeching of tires, followed by a heart-stopping thud. My pulse quickened, and dread filled my chest as I rushed to the road, hoping praying it wasn’t what I feared.

But there she was, lying still on the pavement, surrounded by a growing crowd. Adebisi, the little girl with so much life, was now lifeless. My heart sank as reality hit me I was the one who sent her on that errand.

Panic overwhelmed me. I couldn’t face the Alades, her parents, who loved her more than anything in the world. They were elderly and had waited so long to have a child, and now, in one tragic moment, I had taken her from them. The weight of my guilt was unbearable.

Without thinking, I turned and fled back to my house. I locked the door behind me and slumped against it, my hands trembling. Outside, I could hear the cries of the Alades as they rushed out, the wails of grief piercing the air. Neighbors gathered, trying to comfort them, while others angrily questioned how such a tragedy could have happened.

From inside my house, I heard the Alades cursing whoever had sent their daughter on that errand, their words filled with unimaginable pain. I knew they were right I was the one to blame. But fear held me back from confessing. How could I possibly tell them that it was me who had sent their only child out that day?

The days that followed were torturous. Guilt gnawed at me, and I couldn’t eat or sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Adebisi’s innocent face, and my conscience screamed at me to confess. But fear of their reaction, of their wrath and grief, kept me silent. The idea of leaving the village crossed my mind more than once, but deep down, I knew that running away wouldn’t erase what I had done. I couldn’t escape the guilt that was consuming me.

Now, I stand here, tormented by my conscience, unable to live with the burden of this secret any longer. I’m at a crossroads, and I don’t know what to do. Should I confess to the Alades, knowing it might give them some closure, even if it means facing their anger and hatred? Or should I flee, hoping to outrun the guilt that is suffocating me?

Hmmmn I need advice. I’m lost and don’t know what the right thing to do is. But deep down, I feel like there’s only one path that might bring me any peace, and that’s to tell the truth, no matter the cost.