Farautar Mayu Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

I kept pressing my ears shut in fear, hoping I might succeed in blocking the source of the sound that kept drawing a distressed voice into my ears.
But I was only deceiving myself, because covering my ears did not change anything.
I stretched my hand, intending to take a pillow, hoping that perhaps Allah would make it work. Just then, the room light went off completely, causing the machine that was driving away the heat to stop.
I began to feel itchy as mosquitoes and heat greeted me at once. That stubborn, irritating voice only grew louder, begging for something I did not even know.
“Save me! Save me, please! Is nobody there?”
I hissed. Then I searched for my phone and turned on the flashlight. All my colleagues were fast asleep, exhausted.
I stood up and headed for the door. I turned the handle and stepped out. To my surprise, everywhere in the hospital had electricity except our room and another room far ahead, with a little distance between them.
For no clear reason, my heart kept pushing me to go and check. One step, two steps — the closer I got, the clearer the sound of that pleading voice became, until I reached the door.
At that exact moment, the light in the room came back on.
I peeped inside and saw two nurses and a doctor standing over a young woman. At the side, an old dark-skinned woman was sitting, swinging her leg.
All their eyes turned to me, and I also stared back at them.
“Ayodele, what are you doing here? Don’t you have work in your section?” the doctor asked me.
I opened my mouth, about to speak, when I heard the voice again saying,
“Ayodele, please help me. I am not dead!”
I looked toward where the sound came from. Only then did I notice that the young woman’s eyes were tightly closed, as if she was sleeping.
In surprise, I asked myself, Can someone who is asleep talk?
“She is dead. We are trying to remove all the things attached to her body, but they have refused to come off,” the doctor interrupted my thoughts.
“But she just spoke to me now. She told me to help her, that she is not dead,” I said.
They all stared at me in shock. That made me continue.
“She is the one who has been preventing me from sleeping. Her screams woke me up.”
“Ayodele?” the doctor called my name in a strange tone. Then he turned to the nurses and asked, “Since we have been here, have any of you heard any screaming?”
They all shook their heads, meaning no.
Then he turned his gaze back to me.
“Well, maybe your ears are not hearing properly.”
“What is her name?” I asked.
“Emeka,” one of the nurses answered.
Slowly, I began to walk toward her. But before I could reach Emeka, the old woman stood up and blocked my way.
“Where are you going? What are you going to do?” she threw the questions at me, giving me a terrible look that pierced through blanket and flesh. It was not pleasant at all.
With difficulty, I pulled in a breath and bravely looked straight into her eyes. Suddenly, I saw great fear appear in her own eyes, and she quickly moved aside for me — though I did not know why she did that.
I went over to Emeka and stood beside her. Then I placed my hand on her face and said,
“Emeka?”
“Ayodele, she is dead. Why are you talking to a dead person like a mad woman?” the doctor cut in.
Without looking at him, I said,
“She is not dead, Doctor. She has been placed into a deep coma.”
“Who placed her into a deep coma? This is a hospital, and we know our job.”
“Doctor, the person who put her into that coma knows herself. Where are her parents?” I asked.
“She came with only her grandmother, and there she is—” the nurse said, then paused. “She has gone out.”
I raised my head and saw that the old woman was no longer there.
So, from what I understood, she was Emeka’s grandmother.