Written by Chibuzor Iwobi

If I failed in my attempt to disarm him of his gun, it was going to be the end of the road for all of us in the room. It was a risk that I had to take cause either way I wasn’t going to end the day alive.

Midway into the leap, I was tempted to pull back because the ideas of it going south terribly terrified me.

Once I got to him, he hit the floor with a terrific thud, the gun fell out of his hand and I drove my fist into his face.

“Run!” I shouted, turning my neck to Angie and the girls. I watched them run till they were out of sight with Abisola and Jeff following suit.

He pushed me off him and I quickly got on my feet, so did he. We both spotted where the gun slid to, which was 10 feet away from him, closer to him than me. He made a go for it, sliding to get there faster and instead of doing the same I quickly pulled off my slippers, threw it at the gun and it slid further away from him to a under a desk resting against the wall. I grabbed a stool and rushed to his side before he could get up. He dodged my stool attack by rolling over to his right. Before I could initiate another attack, he kicked my left leg awfully hard and I dropped the stool as I yelled out in pain. He continuously kicked me there till I was on the ground grabbing my leg. Standing above me and smiling, he placed his foot on my bullet wound, applying as much pressure as he could.

“Stop, please,” I shrieked.

He picked up the stool and slammed it against me. It was weak so it broke on impact. Angered by that, he climbed on top me and jabbed me three times in the face. I noticed a leg from the stool with a nail sticking out had fallen within arms reach, so I quickly grabbed it and forced the part with nail into his side repeatedly till he got of me. A warm feeling swept my body as he cried from my attack: I was enjoying it. Now, the tables had turned, I was ontop of him, I punched him repeatedly in the face until my fingers on my right hand went numb. The fear of making the same mistake I made with Idris Kazeem frightened me so I resumed battering his face with my left hand. When I was satisfied, I rolled off him onto his warm blood on the cold tilled floor.

“What a week,” I whispered to myself, trying to catch my breath. “What a week.”

I crawled to the desk and reached for the gun. To my surprise, I felt a very week grasp on my ankle which I wriggled off almost immediately. I picked myself up which hurt like hell, supporting myself with my right leg, it took forever before I got to my seat. I sank in it majestically like a drunk king on his throne. Breathing impatiently, I watched him. He could barely move but made so much effort to do so.

“Give it a rest,” I said to him.

He laughed. “You think it’s over?” He replied.

“It is the end of the road for you, Ahmed.”

He tried to laugh again but only ended up coughing in pain.

“Are you happy?” He asked me.

I did not respond.

“Are you happy?” He repeated his question. “Fucking answer me.”

“Of course,” I lied. I brought out a cig from the in my pocket and placed it in my mouth. It was now deformed but I didn’t care. “You don’t happen to have a lighter, do you?”

I let the cigarette lie in my mouth without being lit.

“Where is her Father?” I asked him, calmly.

“Forget it,” He replied. “He is dead.”

“I hate repeating myself, Ahmed.”

He laughed again.

“Don’t make me do this,” I warned

“Do your worst,” He yelled.

A wide smile was plastered on my face as my heart raced faster. I knew what was coming next and I loved the thought of it. I rose from my seat and sighed heavily.

“You asked for it,” I replied him. “Get up.”

“Why?” Ahmed asked, with a grin on his face.

“I want to show you something,” I replied, cocking my gun and pointing it at his face.

He got up almost immediately and I led him out of the house and into my car. I handed him the car keys and told him to drive.

“I’m in no condition to drive,” He said.

“You’ll die anyway, so drive,” I replied.

“To where?” He asked.

“Stop with the fucking questions and do as you are told,” I yelled.

He put the keys in the ignition and started the car. I directed him till we got to our destination.

“What are we doing here?” He asked, as we got out of the car.

I popped the trunk, handed him a shovel and replied, “To pay our respects to Halima.”

“You… You buried her here?” He asked, as his voice broke.

“Buried, disposed, trashed. Whichever word you prefer,” I replied, as I nodded my head with no sympathy. “Dig!”

There was so much restraint from him to blast me which ended up with him bursting out In tears.

“Halima…” He cried, as he dug her grave.

As he sobbed, he sang a song I could barely understand. I stood behind him like a prison guard overseeing a convicted felon, enjoying the misery I was putting him through. In a matter of minutes, we got to her bones and I watched him fall gracefully on his knees, groaning in pain with blood still flowing from where I had struck him earlier. My plan was working, I knew I had gotten to him and did I feel bad for this? No! He put the life of my family at risk, no one does that and goes scot-free. He clutched his fists in the dirt, crying uncontrollably with his tears washing her bones.

“Where is Abisola’s father?” I asked, calmly.

He didn’t answer but I obviously knew he heard me, so I gave him a little more time to process everything. His cries eased up with time and a long silence that followed ensued it was time to resume my questioning.

“Where is he?” I asked, again.

“We don’t have him,” He replied.

I grunted and gripped his neck. “I don’t have time for games.”

“I swear, we don’t have him,” He replied, fearfully, with a high pitched voice.

“So where is he?” I continued with my interrogation.

“I don’t know. We… We never took him.”

I cocked my gun and pointed it at the back of his head.

“You have to believe me. I swear to you, on Halima, we never took the old man, we couldn’t.”

“What do you mean you couldn’t?”

“We just couldn’t because we only wanted you.”

“That is why you put up that display in front of my family? My girls? You put them in danger!” I roared.

“I….I’m sorry, Alfred,” He begged.

“So if you don’t have Mr Jones, why is he nowhere to be found?”

“Alfred…”

“Don’t call my name, answer me!”

“We found him dead in his apartment.”

“Dead? Dead? You mean you killed him!”

“No! He was lifeless before I got there. You have to believe me, I have no reason to lie to you.”

“How did he die?” I asked.

“I couldn’t tell. No puncture wounds, no blood. Old age perhaps.”

“Where is the body?”

“I got rid of it.”

“But you just said you never took him,” I said

“Well, technically…”

“Don’t fucking play with me, trying to be smart and shit,” I roared

“I-I-” He stammered

“Where?”

He said nothing.

“Where?”

“Alfred…”

“Where Goddamit!!” I yelled, still pointing the gun at the back of his head.

I had to refrain from pulling the trigger.

“In the ocean,” He replied.

I exhaled deeply, trying my best to remain calm. Ahmed got worried when I stayed mute after his reply.

“Alfred…” He called. “Alfred?”

He did this repeatedly but scared to turn and face me in fear I would pull the trigger until I broke my silence.

“Who did I speak to on the phone?” I asked.

“Efe. It was Efe.”

“And where is she now?”

He didn’t respond.

“Answer me!” I shouted, tapping his head with the gun.

“My apartment,” He answered, with so much remorse In his voice, as he bowed his head in shame. “I’m sorry, Halima. I have failed you.”

I took two steps back.

“I didn’t mean to kill your sister. It was a mistake, It haunts me, every night. I see her face whenever I close my eyes. It terrifies me. But I want to thank you, the load is off.”

“I don’t want your apology. Pull the damn trigger, so I can be with my sister again.

“I am sorry, bro,” I whispered to myself. “Tell her I miss her.”

And with all the vindication in me, I pulled the trigger twice at the back of his head.

He dropped on Halima’s bones.

“Poetic,” I thought to myself and smiled.

I stripped him of his personal belongings before pushing his body into Halima’s grave and filling it with dirt.

“Rest In peace…friend,” I said to myself.

After putting the shovel in the trunk, I got into the car and drove off.

“Efe, here I come.”

Edited by; Gbadebo (@Oaa148 ) / Angel (@angelokwuosa ) / Olamide  (@Miss_Ola_D)

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