One week later, I called Tadala and Thocco to take the night off and head to Salima, to The Glass House. It wasn't an invitation, it felt like a summons, something unspoken pulling us there. They didn't hesitate. By the time the sun dipped low, they were already in my room, crashing on the couch with bags in hand, ready to leave by midnight.
"We have to beat the traffic jams," I told them, breaking the silence as I zipped up my overnight bag.
They nodded wordlessly, their faces shadowed by something I couldn't quiet catch. A tension hung in the room like a coiled spring. At exactly midnight, we were awake, packed, and ready to go. Snacks, juices, a flashlight, and an old map of Salima stuffed into the glove compartment. Thocco handed me the keys to her car, and I slid into the driver's seat. The engine purred to life, and we pulled into the empty, moonlit streets.
"Why y'all so quiet like this?" I asked after a long stretch of silence.
My voice echoed in the car, but neither Tadala nor Thocco responded. Tadala sat in the
back, her arms crossed, staring out the window as if the darkness outside held answers. Thocco sat in the passenger seat, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, the screen dim but her grip unrelenting.
"Just get going and cruise fast. We're running out of time," Tadala finally said, her voice sharp and clipped.
"But it's only 3 a.m.," I replied, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "Why the rush?"
No one answered. They weren't ignoring me, not exactly. It was more like they couldn't hear me, their minds locked away somewhere I couldn't follow.
The silence felt unbearable, so I reached for the radio, flipping through static until I landed on a playlist. Crispy Malawi's beats filled the car, heavy and alive, and I couldn't help myself. I cranked up the volume and started rapping along, my voice loud and unapologetic. "From speaker Yakwaneba to Thako!" I shouted, grinning at the absurdity of it all.
I glanced at the girls, hoping for a laugh or even a smile, but they were stone-faced, unmoved by the music or my antics. Their silence was louder than the speakers, pressing down on me like a weight.
"Y'all are killing the vibe," I muttered, but I kept driving, the music my only companion.
The road stretched ahead, endless and dark, the occasional streetlight casting fleeting glows on the car's hood. By 4 a.m., the horizon began to lighten, the faintest hint of dawn creeping in. The air grew heavier, the kind of thick, humid stillness that comes before something happens.
When we finally pulled into the long, winding driveway of The Glass House, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. The house loomed ahead, its walls made entirely of glass, reflecting the pale light of the rising sun. It looked fragile and impenetrable all at once, like a secret waiting to shatter.
We stepped out of the car, the crunch of gravel underfoot breaking the eerie silence. The girls moved quickly, their bags slung over their shoulders, their eyes darting around as if they expected someone or something to be watching.
"What is this place, really?" I asked, but my voice sounded small against the vastness of the house.
Tadala turned to me, her face unreadable. "You'll find out soon enough."
Inside, the air was cooler, almost cold, and the walls seemed to hum faintly, as if the house itself was alive. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unbroken view of the lake in the distance, its surface shimmering like molten silver.
Thocco led the way, her footsteps purposeful, her phone now tucked away. Tadala followed, her eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. I trailed behind, feeling like an outsider in my own story.
We hadn't been inside for more than a few minutes when the sound of tires screeching outside froze us in place. A car door slammed, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of boots on gravel.
"What the!!!!?" I started, but Tadala grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin.
"Don't say a word," she hissed.
Before I could process what was happening, the door burst open, and a group of uniformed officers stormed in, their flashlights slicing through the dim light.
"Hands where we can see them!" one of them barked, his voice harsh and commanding. My heart thundered in my chest as I raised my hands, my mind racing.
What were they doing here? What did they want? Tadala and Thocco didn't move, their expressions eerily calm. It was as if they'd been expecting this.
"Is this her?" one of the officers asked, pointing at Tadala.
She didn't answer, but the faintest smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
"Take them," the officer ordered, and just like that, the night unraveled.
They cuffed us in tight ropes; heads masked to the basement of The Glass House.