"Somkene! Somkene! Somkene! Please wake up!" My heart was racing as I screamed his name for the fourth time, desperately tugging at his hands to try and shake him awake. At that moment, I hated that he was a deep sleeper because I knew nothing I did would wake him up. In a panic, I released Somkene's hands, my trembling fingers reaching for my eyes as if I could erase the haunting image that I had just seen. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying hard to fall asleep and escape from what I saw. But every time I blinked, the scary image came back like a bad dream. It felt like a heavy weight of not believing what I saw, making it difficult to breathe calmly. The rhythmic ticking of Somkene’s favorite colored clock on the bedside table was not helping as it only seemed to mock my futile attempts at finding peace. As I yearned for the serenity that came with not knowing, hoping sleep would be an escape from the harsh reality, I realized I was probably seeing things; because according to what I had known to be true, this should not be happening. I considered my next move very carefully, because it was, to me, a defining moment. Mama had told me that Ojìnjí could never be seen at night, and I had heard rumors that anyone who saw it would not live to see yet another day. It was night. And I had just seen it. Perhaps I had been hallucinating, as it was pitch black. My hands quivered as I reached for the table and felt for the matchsticks Somkene had left beside the lantern during the day. I finally found it, flicked on the lantern, and frantically searched the room with my eyes but did not see anything. "Chimazom! My God has saved me!" I exclaimed as my breathing began to steady and my hands unconsciously squeezed Somkene's for comfort. To my greatest surprise, he squeezed mine back and turned around to face me. “Why are you awake, eh?” He asked as he sat up to my level and caressed my cheek. I don't know how he did it, but I instantly felt calm. I leaned into his palm and immersed my face in its scent. I loved his touch. On seeing my response, he pulled me in for a kiss, tugging at my bottom lip and sucking it slowly. He had just moved his head to tease my neck when I looked straight ahead and instantly wished I hadn't, because it was there. This was impossible because there was no trace of water around our room. I pressed my eyes shut in hopes that I would open it to find this was all a dream. It wasn't. I don't know how, but I had seen what they called Ojìnjí; the hand in the middle of the ocean.