I was about 10 years old or so when I discovered that I didn’t like smart people. Well, people that were smarter than I was. I didn’t know why. I just knew that each time I saw someone really smart, especially if they were in my age group, it would really piss me off.
It didn’t stop. I thought it would when I grew older but it didn’t. When I got into university in Melbourne, it only got worse. I was there on a scholarship but I was the least smart kid around (or maybe it was just a feeling) and it didn’t sit right with me.
I had no issues when someone excelled at something I didn’t want to do but if it was something I was even slightly interested in, I would get really jealous and angry. I didn’t understand what was going on. Anyway I was just 15 and I was supposedly dealing with puberty. Yes, just in case you wanted to know, my first menstrual cycle started while I was in the university. So yes, I meant puberty.
It wasn’t just academics. It was also extra curricular activities. I didn’t like girls who could sing. I disliked all the girls that got into the drama society and even though I was president, Miss Derrick insisted on choosing all roles. Of course, that meant that I didn’t always get to play lead female. So I disliked all the girls that ever got a lead role instead of me.
My heart ache or anger doesn’t work like it does for other people. I would be trying to sleep at night and I would wake up in tears, my pillow soaked. Other times I would have a very terrible heart burn. I would break out in a sweat and my hands won’t stop shaking. I even disliked girls I thought to be prettier than me.
On my 19th birthday, I graduated from university, top of my class and pride of my faculty. I had already booked my flight back to Nigeria and I really couldn’t wait one more day to see my dad. I thought I was going to explode too, if I had to wait any longer to kiss my boyfriend. It had been almost 4 years and I missed him like crazy. We talked almost everyday and he sent pictures a lot but it wasn’t enough. Could I get home already?
I knew my father was going to throw a party. My step mother was not any better. She only needed a reason to cook and my coming home was too much of a reason already. Everybody was going to be there but I knew myself. First chance I got, I was sneaking KC into my room for a hot make out session.
Looking back at all this, I hope people finally get to understand why I stabbed KC that night. There he was at my party wearing a wedding ring. Just the court wedding had been done and he needed to talk to me and settle things first before doing the real deal. My heart was burning and my dress soaked in seconds. I didn’t cry but my chest was on fire and my hand were beginning to shake. I heard her tell me to take the knife on the table and I did.
He was stabbed before I could stop myself.
I don’t like smarter people. I don’t like more beautiful people. The voice inside my head likes to be at the top of the food chain and if anybody tries to replace me or bring me down, even just a tiny little notch, I do whatever she tells me to do.
That night she asked me to stab and I did.