MayN Moon

Chapter 1
Auleria, a bright and determined young graduate, found herself at a crossroads in her life. With no job prospects in sight, she resolved to take any opportunity that came her way. As an orphan, she knew the importance of self-reliance and was willing to do whatever it took to make ends meet.

On a Monday morning, Auleria found herself heading to an interview for the position of personal office assistant for a prominent businessman in the country. Nervous yet hopeful, she arrived at the bus rank, checking her phone for the time – 9:30 am. With just half an hour to spare before her interview at 10 a.m., she quickened her pace towards the towering buildings of Gaborone, the capital city of Botswana.

Focusing on the directions she had received earlier, Auleria soon found herself standing at the entrance of the impressive building where her potential job awaited. Just as she was about to enter, a striking young man approached, seemingly headed in the same direction. With a polite nod, they entered the building together, sharing the elevator up to their respective destinations.
Her heart raced as she stepped into the sleek, modern elevator of the towering building. The young man who entered alongside her exuded an air of confidence, his sharp suit emphasizing his strong physique. She couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring his chiseled features and piercing gaze.

As the elevator ascended smoothly, She fidgeted with the strap of her purse, feeling self-conscious in her simple, professional attire. She was here for an interview, after all, not to ogle handsome strangers. She cleared her throat, trying to focus on the task at hand.

The young man turned to her, his warm smile putting her at ease. "Nervous about the interview?" he asked, his voice smooth and reassuring.

She nodded, grateful for the distraction. "A little," she admitted, offering him a shy smile in return. "It's my first job interview since graduating."

He chuckled softly. "Well, you've got this. Just be yourself, and everything will fall into place."

Before she could respond, the elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at the desired floor. As the doors slid open, the young man stepped aside, gesturing for her to exit first. She offered him a grateful nod and a murmured thanks before stepping out into the posh corridor.

As she made her way to the office for her interview, she couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that the encounter had left her with. Little did she know that this chance meeting would set her on a path she never could have imagined—one that would intertwine her fate with that of the mysterious young man in the elevator.

As Auleria stepped into the sleek office of ReinCrown Logistics, her eyes landed on the imposing desk that stood before her. She couldn't help but feel a surge of nerves as she approached the receptionist, a sense of unease fluttering in her chest at the thought of working with the striking young man who she had just shared the elevator with. "Hello, my name is Auleria Jeremy," she began, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "I have an interview scheduled for 10 am."

The receptionist's gaze lingered on her for a moment, causing her to second-guess her appearance. Was there something amiss? Pushing aside her insecurities, She managed a polite smile as the receptionist directed her to wait until she was called. Taking a seat on one of the plush couches, she couldn't help but admire the pristine interior of the office, every detail exuding sophistication and professionalism.

Minutes ticked by slowly, each second filled with anticipation and trepidation. Her mind raced with a flurry of thoughts, wondering what lay ahead in this unfamiliar environment. Just as she was on the brink of succumbing to her nerves, a voice called out her name, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in her journey with ReinCrown Logistics. With a deep breath, she rose from her seat, ready to face whatever challenges awaited her beyond that beckoning door.

As she walked into the office, she immediately sensed the aura of authority emanating from the older man seated behind the desk. The lady who had called her in followed closely behind, and Auleria greeted them both with a confident smile. The lady gestured for her to take a seat, and as Auleria settled in, she could feel the weight of their curious gazes upon her. The lady, with a hint of condescension in her tone, questioned Auleria's choice to apply for an office assistant position despite her impressive legal qualifications. Undeterred, Auleria maintained her composure and explained her situation with grace and dignity. The interview progressed, with Auleria eloquently articulating her skills and experience. As the meeting drew to a close, Auleria was informed that they would be in touch. Gathering her belongings, she left the office with a sense of quiet confidence. Meanwhile, in another office, Calvin observed intently as this poised and capable young woman faced his parents, leaving a lasting impression with her quiet strength and unwavering resolve.

In Prison

In the dingy prison cell, Fumu lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling that had become a constant reminder of his 17-year confinement. He let out a heavy sigh, the weight of his sentence settling in once again. To distract himself from the cacophony of sounds from the other inmates, he reached for the book his brother had brought him on his last visit. The worn pages provided a fleeting escape from the harsh reality of his life behind bars.

Meanwhile, in Shakawe, an old lady sat behind her decrepit house, its broken windows and dark green bricks a testament to the passage of time. She sat on a worn plastic chair, her walking stick leaning against the wall beside her. Her daughter, a middle-aged woman, approached her, concern etched on her face. "Mum, you need to see a doctor. Your knee isn't looking good at all," she said, trying to reason with her.

The old lady's response was laced with venom. "Can't you leave me alone for a moment? Why are you always on my case? I told you to call that stupid boy and his niece to come here. My knee will be fine as soon as I see them. You can tell them that I've died; they'll come to my funeral, no doubt."

Her daughter's eyes widened in disbelief, and she clapped her hands in frustration before walking away. Her sister, who had been watching the exchange, shook her head as she approached their mother. The evil in her eyes seemed to never end, a constant presence that cast a dark shadow over their lives.

3 weeks later

Auleria's thoughts swirled as she stood in the kitchen, the weight of uncertainty heavy on her shoulders. The promise of a response from the interview panel had kept her hopeful, but now, two weeks later, silence echoed in its place. The familiar ache of disappointment settled in her chest as she turned to her laptop, seeking solace in a distraction. As the Netflix homepage flickered to life, memories of loss and longing tugged at her heart. The untimely departures of her mother and grandmother had carved deep wounds in her young heart, leaving her adrift in a sea of grief. Her uncle's roof provided shelter, but his wife's sharp words and unspoken expectations chipped away at her fragile sense of belonging. Despite her best efforts to find her footing, she felt trapped in a cycle of rejection and unfulfilled potential. The scars of the past lingered, refusing to be forgotten. Auleria's eyes glazed over, her mind transported back to a time when innocence was lost and terror was her constant companion. The memory of her uncle's wife, Lily, was etched in her mind like a festering wound. The sound of her terrified sobs, the feel of small hands futilely trying to push away the cruel grasp on her neck, the sting of tears streaming down her face as she curled up in a ball, helpless and defenseless. The words, "I will kill you, stupid evil girl," echoed in her mind, a haunting reminder of the fear that had governed her childhood.

The pattern was all too familiar. Whenever her uncle went away on a work trip, Lily's true nature would emerge, unveiling a monster that took great pleasure in tormenting Auleria. The starvation, the beatings, the belittling - it was a carefully crafted plan to break her spirit, to turn her into a timid, cowering creature. And then, there were the times when Lily would sneakily add something to her uncle's food, her eyes gleaming with malice as she threatened Auleria, "If you tell anyone, I'll make sure you suffer even more."

Auleria's breath caught in her throat as the memories resurfaced, the pain and the fear still raw, still palpable. But as she stood there, frozen in time, something within her began to stir. A spark of determination, a flame of defiance, a resolve to never let the past define her again. The memories would always be there, but she would not be held captive by them. She would rise above, she would overcome, and she would emerge stronger, wiser, and more resilient than ever before. As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, she set aside her laptop and immersed herself in the comforting rhythms of cooking, a solitary act of defiance against the shadows of her past and the uncertainties of her future.

Prologue

The first light of Sunday morning crept into the small, round mud hut, casting a gentle glow over the sleeping forms of Kemo and her mother. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint tang of smoke from the cooking fire that had burned out overnight. In the corner, six-year-old Auleria slumbered peacefully on her grandmother's metal bed, her small chest rising and falling with each gentle breath.

Kemo, once a vibrant and beautiful young woman, lay frail and still on her mattress, her bones starkly visible beneath her skin. Her mother sat beside her, her eyes red-rimmed from countless nights of vigilance and worry. For almost a year, Kemo's health had been in decline, and despite numerous trips to the clinic, the medication had failed to halt her downward spiral.

In a voice barely above a whisper, Kemo called out to her mother. "Mum?" The single word was laced with a hint of desperation, and her mother responded immediately, her voice soft and soothing. "My dear?"

Kemo's voice was weak, but her words were laced with a sense of urgency. "I feel very cold." Her mother's eyes filled with concern as she quickly got up to retrieve two more blankets from the nearby plastic chair. She carefully added them to the ones already covering Kemo, trying to warm her frail body. The blankets seemed to swallow her whole, but Kemo's eyes remained fixed on her mother, her gaze filled with a deep longing for comfort. Kemo coughed uncontrollably, her mother peeled the blankets down to her waist and lifted her chest a little to properly rub her back. Finally, the coughing fit subsided, and her mother laid her down. But as she did, she noticed her daughter wasn't breathing. She placed her hand on Kemo's nostrils, but there was no sign of air. Her mother gazed at her daughter quietly for a few minutes, then turned to where her granddaughter, Auleria, was sleeping peacefully. She let out a heavy sigh, then turned back to Kemo, shaking her gently. "Kemo! Kemo, dear, wake up!" But Kemo didn't respond or move. Her mother's heart skipped a beat. She stood up, carefully lifted Auleria onto her shoulders, and walked out of the hut. She knocked on the door of another small, round mud hut where her two teenage boys slept. The boys answered, and she walked in. "Make space for her," she instructed, her voice trembling. "Fumu, you come with me." Fumu, the oldest at 19, followed his mother as she walked back into her hut, a sense of urgency and concern etched on her face. Kemo's mother stepped into the hut, her eyes welling up with tears. "Fumu, go call my sister," she said, her voice trembling. But the boy's eyes widened as he took in the scene before him. He turned around and ran out of the yard, his legs pumping furiously.

Kemo's mother walked back inside, her movements mechanical as she packed their clothes and blankets into a small bundle. She finished, her hands shaking, and sat beside her daughter's lifeless body just as Fumu returned and stood at the door, his eyes searching for his sister. "Is Kemo okay, Mum?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Kemo's mother swallowed hard, her throat constricting. She pressed her lips together, her eyes closed and tried to respond, but the pain in her chest was too much. She burst into tears, her anguished cry echoing through the hut. "God, why me?" she wailed.

Fumu walked inside, his eyes fixed on his sister's still form. He squatted behind his mother, wrapping his arms around her chest as she sobbed. At the neighbor's house, a little girl was woken by the sound of crying. She shook her mother awake, her voice urgent. "Mama, Mama, someone is crying!" The mother's eyes snapped open, and she listened intently her heart racing. She quickly got dressed and rushed out of the house, following the sound of Kemo's mother's despair. As Kemo's mother's wails pierced the air, the neighbors rushed to their yard, gathering around their mud hut entrance with worried faces. A few elderly women hurried inside, their voices hushed as they tried to comfort the distraught mother. Fumu emerged from the hut, his eyes scanning the scene before settling on his younger brother, Tumisang, who clutched their niece tightly, tears streaming down his face. Fumu approached them, his voice low and urgent. "Don't let her out of your sight, brother. Take care of her. I'll try to help Mama with everything that is needed." Tumisang nodded silently, his eyes red-rimmed, as Fumu turned to the crowd.

Meanwhile, Kemo's aunt sat behind the house, basking in the morning sun. Her eldest daughter, Naledi, approached her, curiosity etched on her face. "I saw Fumu earlier, what did he want?" Auntie's gaze turned cold, her voice dripping with malice. "His mother called for me." Naledi's eyes narrowed. "Why did she call you so early?" Her mother's response sent a chill down her spine. "Maybe her man-eating daughter has finally met her end." Naledi's eyes widened in shock, appalled by her mother's callousness. How could she be so inhumane, showing no pretense of concern for her niece's welfare?

Inside the hut, an old woman gently washed Kemo's lifeless body in a small bath bowl, carefully cleaning her face. When she finished, another elderly woman handed her a bed sheet and a blanket. Together, the three old women wrapped Kemo's body in the shroud. "Do you still want to say goodbye to her, or should we call them to take her to the car?" the old woman asked Kemo's mother, who sniffled and wiped away her tears, responding with a silent nod. The old woman then peeked out of the hut and announced, "You can come in now, we're finished."

Three men entered the hut, carefully lifting Kemo's body. As they did, the car reversed into the yard, coming closer to the hut. Fumu emerged from another hut with a small mattress, but an elderly woman helping his mother intervened, saying, "Oh dear, we'll use the ones she's been using." Fumu returned the mattress, and the car drove away, carrying Kemo's body to the morgue.

Four days later, a crowd gathered in the yard, waiting to es**rt the family to the graveyard to lay Kemo to rest. There was only one car, carrying the coffin, a solemn reminder of the somber occasion. Two hours later, the crowd reconvened in a small tent, where young men and women distributed food and water to the attendees. Meanwhile, outside the yard, a police car pulled up and four officers jumped out and walked into the yard. The crowd's curiosity was piqued as they wondered what had brought the authorities to their gathering. "Hello, I'm Officer Diyoka, this is Diketso, Kefeletswe, and David" one of them announced. "We're looking for Fumu Jeremy." The crowd exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke up. Then, an elderly man sitting in the corner of the tent rose to his feet and approached the officers. "Sorry, I didn't catch what you just said," he said, his tone laced with a hint of annoyance. "We're looking for Fumu Jeremy," Officer Diyoka repeated. "Why are you looking for him?" the old man asked, his eyes narrowing. "You're from around here, can't you see what's going on? We've just come from the graveyard, we've just buried his sister," the old man said, his voice laced with indignation. "I can see what's happening here, but we're just doing our job," Officer Diyoka replied firmly. "He's a suspect in a murder case, and we're taking him in for questioning." Just then, Fumu Jeremy emerged from the crowd confused. Fumu approached the officers, his hands clasped together in a respectful gesture. Officer Diyoka's expression was a mix of pity and skepticism, no doubt influenced by Fumu's youthful appearance. "You're coming with us to the station for questioning," the officer stated firmly. Fumu's eyes darted around, taking in the scene before he turned to the officers and asked, "Can I tell my mother?" Officer Diyoka nodded, and Fumu sprinted back to the hut.

"Mama, I'm being taken by the police," Fumu exclaimed, his voice laced with urgency. "They're taking me in for questioning about a girl I know. I think it won't take long, since I have no idea what they're talking about." His mother's heart skipped a beat as she struggled to respond. Her eyes seemed to cloud over, and she felt a sense of foreboding.

Kemo's mother, still grieving the loss of her daughter, felt a pang of loneliness and abandonment. Her sister's absence at her daughter's funeral still hurt, and now her son was being taken away. The pain and sense of injustice were palpable.

One year later, Kemo's mother stood outside the prison walls, her heart heavy with worry. She had come to visit her son, who had been convicted six months prior. The verdict had been life imprisonment, the charges being murder and mutilation of a young girl. But Kemo's mother refused to believe it. She was convinced that her son was innocent, that he had been framed for a crime he didn't commit. The thought burned in her mind like a fire, fueling her determination to prove his innocence.