Friday, 9:57 a.m.
Annah stood outside Dr. Kariuki's office, staring at the brass nameplate.
Dr. Peter Kariuki, Licensed Clinical Psychologist.
The letters gleamed under the Nairobi sun, too clean ...too sure of themselves.
She inhaled slowly. The weight of three deaths ,Mbithi,Kevin and Pastor John clung to her skin like perfume. But this was different. This wasn't about rage or justice. This was about answers.
And power.
She stepped inside.
The reception area hadn't changed. Same floral chairs. Same bland paintings. The receptionist gave her a bright smile.
"You can go in, Miss Mwende."
She didn't respond.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Dr. Kariuki looked up from his notebook. Tailored navy suit. Spectacles perched just so. Calm, as always too calm.
"Annah," he said, standing. "It's been a while."
She sat without shaking his hand.
"I'm not here for closure," she said.
He smiled. "Nobody ever is. But they leave with it."
"I want to talk about Lucy."
The smile faltered barely. But she saw it.
"Of course," he said. "It's part of your healing."
She stared at him. "You signed her off as stable, three months before she went back to work."
He folded his hands. "She was progressing."
"She told you she was seeing things. Feeling watched. Dissociating. She stopped trusting mirrors. And you cleared her."
There was a beat. Then a soft, measured response: "Lucy was under immense pressure. Paranoia isn't always pathological."
"You lied."
"I interpreted what I observed," he said, voice still soft. "She showed resilience. She was trying."
"She was scared."
"And you," he said, leaning forward, "were angry. Even back then."
Annah's spine stiffened.
"You always had this... edge. You felt everything deeply. Lucy mentioned it."
Her hands clenched. "What did she say?"
"That you were protective. That sometimes you watched her too closely. That you didn't trust people."
"I was right not to trust them."
"Maybe. But sometimes, paranoia feels like truth. Until it turns us inward."
She stood abruptly, pacing. "You're deflecting."
"I'm observing."
She turned to him, voice tight. "She left a drawing. You know what she called me? Queen of Spades."
He didn't flinch. "Yes. She mentioned it."
"You saw the signs, Kariuki. You knew something was breaking inside her."
"She was afraid. But not of me."
Silence.
Then he stood. "You know, it's fascinating, this obsession of yours."
"Obsession?"
"You think you're solving something. But I wonder if you're just trying to rewrite your grief into a weapon."
She stared at him. His voice had changed. Still calm ,but sharper, like a scalpel.
"You're bleeding, Annah," he continued. "And you want everyone to bleed with you."
"I want the truth."
"No," he said, stepping closer. "You want control. And control, when fueled by trauma, turns into cruelty."
She almost slapped him.
But she didn't.
Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out the printed session notes.
"Explain this," she said. "Why is this file missing from Lucy's final report?"
He took it. Read. Didn't blink.
"She asked me not to include it," he said. "She wanted to prove she could recover."
"That's a lie."
"No. It's the kindest cruelty I've ever committed."
He walked past her to a locked drawer, opened it with a key from his coat pocket.
"Lucy gave me this."
He returned with a small, folded envelope. Yellowing. Torn edges. Her name scrawled on the front.
Annah stared. Her fingers trembled.
"She wrote it the week before she died," he said. "Said to give it to you if... anything ever happened."
She grabbed it. Tore it open.
Inside, a single sheet of paper.
"If I go missing, it's not suicide. It's not an accident. I've seen something. I'm not crazy. Believe me, Anna. Please."
And then, beneath it:
A name.
Wendo.
The breath left her lungs like a blow.
Wendo.
A name she'd heard a lot. A janitor at the hospital they had both worked at. A distant person. Older. Quiet. Harmless,or so she thought.
"What is this?" she asked, voice breaking.
"I didn't know what to do with it," Kariuki said. "I was afraid. And I failed her."
Annah stepped back. Her skin was buzzing, her heartbeat too loud. "She trusted you. She was begging for help."
"I know."
His voice cracked.
She looked up. For the first time, Dr. Kariuki looked human. Tired. Guilt-ridden.
But it wasn't enough.
"You protected your license," she said.
He didn't deny it.
"You covered your failure in paperwork."
"Yes."
She felt the room spin. The fluorescent lights too bright. The walls too close. Her throat tight.
"I should kill you," she whispered.
"I wouldn't stop you," he replied.
They stood there, silent.
Then, Annah turned. Walked to the door. Her fingers lingered on the handle.
"I'm not finished."
"I don't think you are," he said. "But be careful, Annah. The closer you get to the truth, the harder it becomes to live with it."
She left.
Outside, the world felt tilted.
She walked for hours. Through Uhuru Park. Down Valley Road. Through crowded streets.
The letter in her pocket burned like a wound.
Lucy had left a clue.
Wendo.
She pulled out her burner phone and opened a new list in her notes app.
Target 04 – Wendo
Last known location: at work in the hospital.
Relation: not close. Proximity to Lucy: Frequent.
Status: Untouched. Until now.
Her hands shook.
She looked up and saw herself reflected in a shop window.
Only,it wasn't her.
The woman in the reflection wore the same clothes. Had the same eyes.
But her expression... was smiling.
Too wide. Too wrong.
The reflection mouthed something:
"You're next."
She stumbled back, gasping.
Passersby stared.
She blinked,and the mirror returned to normal.
Just her. Just Annah.
But inside,something was cracking. Splitting.
She leaned against a wall and whispered, "I'm not losing it. I'm not. I'm getting closer."
But for the first time since this all began, she wasn't sure.
Because the ghosts weren't just whispering now.
They were starting to wear her face.