THE LADY 2
The lady moved with a lithe grace, she was a beauty to behold as she sat down in the waiting room. I couldn’t help but notice her through the half opened door of the consulting room. She looked so graceful and out of place sitting there between other patients that clearly looked sick and didn’t care about their appearance as she obviously did hers. Her long hair was tied in a simple bun, the simplicity of which could not be achieved by simply tying one’s hair in a bun, this was an art form.
She wore no make- up - she didn’t need to; any make-up would have marred her beauty and tainted her flawless fair skin, she wore a simple grey and black button down gown that hugged her figure making her look as if she just stepped out of a fashion runway. Her slender feet were ensconced in a pair of black leather soft soled shoes. All these I noticed in that split second I looked through the door.
There were some more serious cases I had to attend to before her; a diabetic with a low blood sugar who had been having episodes of trembling and dizziness and a lady with peptic ulcer who had been vomiting. All through seeing these patients I kept wondering what this lady was here for and if she would be there when I returned.
Thankfully she was. I ushered her into the consulting room and asked her to sit down.
‘Are you Dr OKoli?’ She asked, her voice betraying a rich British accent.
‘Yes, I am…’ I replied.
Before I could say anything more, my throat was held in a vice like grip, her slim build belying incredible strength. She was too strong! I felt like I was being held by a crane. Her nails dug into the soft skin of my neck as she restrained all 90kg of me. I tried to scream but I was already powerless, I don’t know what happened next as I felt the room getting darker.
It seemed like ages before I came to, but I was to learn later that it was just 2 minutes. My vision began to clear and I saw her seated opposite me, her slender legs crossed and her hands placed on her knees in a stately manner. She was indeed a very pretty lady. I winced as I felt the pain in my neck, this woman had almost killed me.
‘Are you Dr Okoli?’ She asked once again in her refined British accent.
I needed to get security but I had to pass by her before getting to the door, I trembled in my seat and remained mute.
‘Are you Dr Okoli?’ She asked a third time.
I was caged. ‘Y…yes,’ I stuttered.
She moved with a dazzling speed and before I could blink struck me on my face. I saw stars and fell over.
With a bloodied nose I begged her.
‘What have I done? What do you want?’
She looked at me, her eyes glassy.
‘You don’t remember me Dr John Okoli.’
I stared at her.
‘I am not John Okoli, I am Michael Oko-oli.’
It was her turn to stare at me, this pretty lady turned monster.
Suddenly it looked as if scales had dropped from her eyes.
She got up, turned and walked out the door.
Her soft soled shoes not making any sound.
All she left behind was a faint rose fragrance.
I sat there transfixed, looking at the empty doorway.