She felt it. Even without turning around, she felt the night fall. It was pure gut feeling: that uncomfortable warmth dispersed in her belly, not quite solid but heavy enough to be referred to as lead like; one of her innards tightened into a knotty lump and that rumbling that she read was borborygmus - Borborygmus, a rumbling or gurgling sound caused by the movement of gas in the intestines.
The nausea hadn't set it yet, but it would when the night settled properly and the noises began.
Dunni lay on the rumpled bed, curled in a foetal like ball, her phone in her hand. She was reading the Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman and thinking of American Gods. The feeling wasn't distracting yet, or maybe she was ignoring it.
Her sister, Bimpe, danced around the room, earplugs in and twisting her waist to some song she just downloaded. She twisted, arched, twerked, whirled, flipped her head side to side, her braids flying about in arcs. Bimpe was lost in her own world, oblivious to her suffering.
Dunni had tried to tell her before: I'm afraid of the dark, close the door of the wardrobe, they can enter if you don't. Her answers remained the same: an irritated “woooo, don't stress me. You have problem o. There are plenty of mountains on campus, go and pray on one.” It was then she thought Bimpe doesn't respect her, even though Dunni was the older one. But she wasn't one to react, she needed Bimpe's presence or she would truly lose her mind. So, she made sure the doors were closed every night and pondered on the legal ramifications of Sororicide.
The only time Bimpe had ever shown sympathy was on the early days of resumption. Seyi had come to visit, she cooked spag and there was stew with fish. Bimpe had pushed her button, so Dunni broke down. Seyi hurried to her and asked what was wrong. That was the only time, she ever said everything out loud.