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Stats: 2,210,879 members, 4,825,752 topics. Date: Thursday, 21 March 2019 at 01:15 AM
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by rukidanty: 3:21pm On Mar 08|
same here too but something tells me he might escape the trap
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by queenitee(f): 4:13pm On Mar 08|
rukidanty:I have that feeling also
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by LightQueen(f): 6:45pm On Mar 08|
Thanks for the update
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 7:13pm On Mar 08|
Thanks for the update boss lady
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by UNCL3(m): 9:04pm On Mar 08|
Nice story full of suspence
Thanks for the update Rose.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 10:46pm On Mar 08|
Thank you all. I really appreciate that You are are reading and making suggestions. More importantly, you are connecting to this story and it gives me much joy
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Reflex01(m): 11:49am On Mar 09|
My wish for that wicked imam is to meet his end sooner than later
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 1:20pm On Mar 11|
I apologize for not posting the next episode since yesterday. I had a Drama script i need to deliver today. I promise to post the next update latest tomorrow.
Biko forgive me and love me back ���
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by rukidanty: 4:17pm On Mar 11|
Rosemary33:you are forgiven and we are right behind you
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Smith06: 5:29pm On Mar 11|
Rosemary33:Matt 7 Vs 7.
You are forgiven, go and sin no more
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 10:48pm On Mar 11|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 10:51pm On Mar 11|
Even tho I was disappointed, my consolation is the fact that the next update will be lit!!!
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 10:37am On Mar 12|
“This one na how much?” asked Kafaya as she picked a medium sized ‘skumbia fish’
“two hundred naira…” replied the seller
“Madam…two hundred for this small fish? You no go sell am for hundred?” she haggled with the seller who was determined to make sells, they finally settled for a hundred and fifty naira, the woman cut the fish into five pieces, wiped her bloody palm on her apron before she brought out a black ‘waterproofed’ bag and packed the fish. Kafaya handed a neat two hundred naira note to the seller who placed the note on her forehead, kissed it with a smile and shoved the money in her apron, bringing out a dirty fifty naira and handed it over to Kafaya.
“Thank you Auntie”
Kafaya and Ukwuoma moved over to another shop where they wanted to buy Garri, that was when an image caught Ukwuoma’s Attention. She stretched her neck, tilting her head side by side while dodging the human bodies that paraded the marked and blocking her view. By the time she caught a glimpse of the pair, a man with a little dark boy, the image was almost fading but she was sure it was him, it was her Ogugua and the strange man who took him away from her months ago.
Like a mirage, the shadows were fast fading, she couldn’t tell whether it was still the pictures in her head or she was actually seeing them, she dropped the ‘walking-talking bag’ she was holding, and hastily made her way towards the moving Images.
Utako Market is always busy with sweaty armpits meeting sweaty faces, while spittle from different mouths wet sampled food stuffs. A child can be stamped if care is not taking while ‘job men’ with up to three huge bags of grain on their hunched backs ceases opportunities to transfer their aggressions on buyers in the market. It was difficult for Ukwuoma to push herself through different sizes of body and kept her eyes on the man who was hurrying away with the little boy.
She lost them for a while, but when she turned towards the Yam zone, she saw the man talking with two men on caftan, the boy was pulling on something he wore inside his blue stripped t-shirt. Ukwuoma moved closer,
“Ogugua!” she called out with uncertainty, both the boy and the Man looked back at her. She saw the shock on the big man’s face and the recognition on her son’s face, but before she could voice another word, the man whisked the boy off the ground and walked away in a hurry, increasing his pace, half running- half walking, the two men that were talking with the big man barricaded her from moving further
“D’ana (My son!) Ya sace d’ana (He took my son!)” she was screaming and pointing to a direction,
“Ta ne a tabin hankali hakuri, muna shan ta mayar da su zuwa asibiti (She a psychiatric patient, we are taking her back to the hospital)” one of the men said loud enough to prevent them being lynched by passers-by that gathered. They were about to take her away when Kafaya intervened,
“She is my patient; I will take it from here”
Yusuf didn’t expect to see anyone who would recognize the boy, the Woman was the last person he had imagined, but there she was, not only did she recognize the boy, she would have jeopardized his plans and effort.
He spoke on his phone for some minutes while walking and looking around. He was supposed to meet those men for a change of phone before heading to the government school where the job would be done;
“This means he is in Abuja now” the voice at the other end of the phone commented
“Yes, he is making threats”
“Typical of him…like I said, he is desperate so his threats should mean nothing to you”
“You promised me security”
“Yes and I will fulfill my words if you don’t mess this thing up, the boys are already waiting, they would be watching”
“The army don’t know you planted a bomb on him, so they will not bother to check both of you…it’s unfortunate the boy would have to be used as a bet”
“He is paying for what his father did…”
“And who will pay for your?”
The line was dead before the question could sink. Fatima paid for what he did in the past, as for what he was about to do, he had no one who would pay for it yet ‘I will probably pay for it myself’ he thought.
“Na gan shi (I saw him…)Ogugua my son…that man took him away from me…”
As much as Kafaya had wanted to help this woman, she found it difficult to believe that she actually saw anything. She was about paying for the ‘Mudu’ of Garri when she suddenly noticed Ukwuoma was no longer standing by her side. She had looked around, and stretched her neck in search of her but she couldn’t find her,
“Na that your sister you dey find?” the woman beside the Garri seller had asked
“eh!” she had responded
“I see am as she waka go this way” the woman pointed to a direction “The way she comot, e be like say she dey find person”
Kafaya had ran towards that direction, twice she had collided with cart pusher who rained abuses on her. Then she saw her struggling to free herself from two men. Kafaya had panicked, she couldn’t imagine what would have happened to Ukwuoma had she not hurried to the scene.
Kafaya would have followed the men to know who they really were; she would have even called the police but everything happened so fast, Ukwuoma was seeing things again and the men had disappeared immediately.
“He is not here Ukwuoma, let us go home you need to re…”
“No! I saw them, they were here…he looked at me…he saw me Doctor…and the man too, he ran away with him again…”
Kafaya looked around with uneasiness, they were beginning to gather more people and she wasn’t comfortable having a mental disordered woman crying in her arms
“Madam pretend say you wan follow her na” an onlooker retorted
“Make she follow the woman, she fit dey talk true” another added
“I for call my pastor make him come pray for her, na evil spirit dey worry her…chai…fine woman like this”
Kafaya have hard enough, they needed to leave the market and get Ukwuoma to take her drugs and sleep, but to do that she had to play along,
“Which direction did they go to?” Kafaya asked. Ukwuoma pointed towards a direction “Okay let us go in search of them” She wasn’t certain what to look for or how to convince Ukwuoma that there was nothing to go after, but she braced herself for a long walk in search of whatever the woman said she saw.
His palms were sweaty as well as his head even under the Air conditioned office. The two men were on their way down to meet him and he was not sure he would be able to pretend like he was with then in their mission. He was supposed to pull this through without suspicion and he knew his life and that of his family was on a thin line if anything goes wrong on both side.
“Some Men are here to see you sir”
“Okay…ehm…send them in” he looked around his office to make sure he doesn’t have anything that could convince the men otherwise, cleared his throat and forced his face to light up with a smile as the men walked piously inside his office”
“As-salaam alaikum” The men greeted with their hands placed together in a sign of peace. Major Usman kept his smile on even though his forehead was soaked with perspiration.
“Imam sent us to you” One of them said, his face was as heard as a stone,
“Yes…everything is set, the vehicles are waiting outside with some of my men”
“Allah hu akbar!” the second man was pleased
“you know where the mission would be?” the one with the hard face asked without looking away from the Major’s face
“Yes, he told me everything and I have instructed the drivers”
“Toh (That’s good)”
The three men chanted the brotherhood’s creed of dedication and total allegiance, while his heart pounded with guilt, the two men were reminiscing of the glorious reward that await them once they offered their flesh to be burnt for Allah.
“la ilaha illa llah, muhammadun rasulu llah” they chanted before they left for the mission, they never got to their destinations neither did they return alive.
Contrary to what Major Usman was told, an instruction was given for the vehicles to be diverted to a lonely road, the two men were shot multiple times, their dead bodies taken back to the heard quarters as exhibit.
Major Usman got the news of their death and a congratulatory message from the chief, he closed his eyes and clutched his phone with missed feelings,
“But how did you know they were planning this attack?” the chief of Army staff had asked him
“I did my investigations sir…ehm…I pretended to ehm… be interested in them to gain their confidence sir”
The Chief had paused for few seconds “It was a risky one major, one that would have put all of us in danger…anyways the force thanks you…you will be highly rewarded”
Usman should have been happy, but he was not. Tomorrow the news of the death of the suicide bombers would be carried on every media station, he would be celebrated as the hero, some of his men who he had initiated into the brotherhood would wonder why he betrayed them, and if the Imam succeeds, he would put a price on his head, Usman would probably be a dead man before the week would run out.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 10:55am On Mar 12|
Tanks for the update
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by mychiveous(f): 11:23am On Mar 12|
Major Usman is screwed whichever way this goes. Madam Rosemary how far for that other story about the dead man? Your contribution was out of this world, please you and the op should continue na.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Reflex01(m): 3:47pm On Mar 12|
Tanx for the update
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by queenitee(f): 4:46pm On Mar 12|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 5:14pm On Mar 12|
Well done OP
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by rukidanty: 11:09pm On Mar 12|
thanks for the update
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 12:35am On Mar 14|
Thanks for the update dear
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 7:45pm On Mar 14|
My head is just turnionion , writers block something. I have been looking at my laptop since yesterday and nothing is coming in. Biko any suggestions please??
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by queenitee(f): 10:12pm On Mar 14|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 1:58pm On Mar 15|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 2:06pm On Mar 15|
He hung around the Catholic church for a while waiting for the appropriate time to make the move. As time drew near his heart pounded heavily. He looked at the boy again, he was battling with the ice cream that was melting away and wetting his hands and his sleeves. He wondered if the boy knew what lay ahead of him.
They were seated under an abandoned store, they had started getting along after being together and the boy had resumed calling him ’Uncle’ like he used to before all this started. But it was obvious that the sudden appearance of that woman jolted the boy back to reality and he had resumed his fuss and protest again though it didn’t last.
Umaru was scared and confused earlier that day, as men came in and left the stuffy hotel room they were lodged in, he had fussed and cried when the belt was strapped on him, as if he knew what it was, before the heavy woolen T-shirt was placed over the belt to hide the bomb.
The thought of leading the boy to his death made his sober all of a sudden, and imagining his flesh torn and licked by fire suddenly made him want to throw up, he remembered Fatima; he wasn’t there to see, but he heard it; ‘Boom!’ and he knew it had happened, pieces of her flesh mixed with the rubble never to be joined together.
Yusuf though he would enjoy this day, but he was surprised how heavy his shoulders had become, his heart flushed like toilet waste down him stomach. He had wanted this day, vengeance and anger had taken over him like the night, he had wanted to hurt his uncle but he wasn’t sure using the child was a good idea after all
“He is paying for what his father did” he had said but the responds from the man over the phone had trailed him since then: “Who will pay for the once you did?”
His new phone rang and he picked
“Call him and tell him where you are before going in, my boys are positioned”
He had his uncle’s phone number at heart, so he dialed the number, it rang once and was picked by him
“Where is my son?”
The two women have been walking around the market and its environ for more than forty minutes, sometimes they found themselves at the same spot they started. Kafaya didn’t want to continue, her legs were sore and her cloth was drenched in perspiration even with the heavy January wind.
Her wig which has gathered dust big enough to start the foundation of a building was in disarray while strings of hair slapped her face and flew inside her eyes once in a while, yet Ukwuoma urged them to continue the search.
Kafaya didn’t know the best way to convince the woman, it was both ridiculous and annoying watching her march like a duck in search of her chicks, it was as if the woman was battling with the wind, a battle she was determined to win as the wind blew her skirt recklessly like a torn flag.
Kafaya was about to hold Ukwuoma’s hand and urge her for them to go back when the woman picked her pace and started running towards the road while Kafaya ran after her, she limped as she followed, her feet hurt.
“I have seen them!” Ukwuoma was shouting while running across the road and was almost hit by a truck filled with yams. The truck driver blasted his horn ‘Puuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!’ while trying to control the truck that has lost its break pad.
“Dan banza bura ubanka (Bastard, your father’s d**k)” the truck driver swore, spatting on the woman but missed.
Kafaya saw the man with a little boy at the entrance of the church, the man must have said something to the old guard at the gate to make him smile and opened the small gate for him and the kid. Before she could get to Ukwuoma, she was already exchanging words with the old guard who was determined not to let her in.
Members where chanting and counting their rosaries when they entered. It was not difficult to find an empty spot and blend in like every other worshiper.
Yusuf knelt down and bent his head in a fake meditative mood, he watched the woman seated next to him with fascination. Her fingers where moving on the beads with ease like a silk cloth on a smooth surface, and she had her eyes closed and her mouth moving in a rhythm pattern he didn’t understand.
Someone would call out the prayers, aided with a loud mic and the members would respond like they also do in the mosque, he would have loved to stay long and watch them but this wasn’t the time.
He looked at his watch, the time was ticking fast and he had to leave the boy here without raising suspicions from people,
“Zauna a nan bari in saya wani abu (Stay here let me buy something)” He ran his palm on the boy’s head, rose from the pew and walked out, leaving the boy gazing at him till he disappeared.
He met two men standing outside the church auditorium, closed to the church chapel where the huge molded image of ‘the Virgin Mary with the baby Jesus’ stood. They stopped whatever they were saying immediately they saw him and started walking towards him. He didn’t want to take the risk of waiting till the men approach him, they may be men from the brotherhood or from the army, but which ever one, he had to stay away from them.
He pulled his phone again and dialed a number;
“The boy is positioned…I have not seen him yet…I think he has some men on ground…yes…yes…” the phone went dead.
He would get back inside the church and would find a spot far enough from the blast and close enough to watch the Imam finds his son and tries to get to his son, then he would press the button.
“Our lady of Fatima catholic church, thirty minutes or he is gone with the worshipers”
The call had finally come, he had waited to hear from Yusuf for two days but to no avail, even his phone was switched off. His nephew was playing games with him and it was making him mad. For once in his life he felt out of control.
So he made his move, it was a taboo, a ‘Haram’ to step his feet in a church but not on this circumstance, Allah would understand. He knew how obvious it would be to enter the church with his caftan and his long beards, he needed a disguise and very fast.
In less than two minutes he got what he wanted, dressed in a normal chinos trouser, a shirt and his beards gone he became one of the numerous worshipers that troops into the big cathedral. On a normal day, Imam Husayn would not let any string of his beards plucked from his chin, ‘It is Haram for me’ he would have said to anyone who would have suggested that to him. But now he felt like a featherless chicken. He had refused to look at himself in the mirror for fear of what he would see.
He had sent three of his boys inside the church to search out where Yusuf was hiding and they have found him.
“Follow him” He had ordered them
As he entered inside the church auditorium, with its worshipers standing and kneeling in harmony almost like what they do in the mosque, he felt dirty, soiled and the blasphemy they were doing in the name of worshiping stung him, yet he needed to find his son and get him to a safe place before he would set this sinful place ablaze as an atonement for defiling him.
This would be the third blast that would rock Abuja that same day if Major Usman does his part well, it would be in the news for a long time, the thought excited him.
Lieutenant Abdul sat with the old guard chatting and making the old man happy while he gazed at his watch periodically and spoke into the ear piece that was almost invincible. He has been in the church for about an hour, he saw when Yusuf entered the church with the little boy and had even eating ‘gworo and debino’ while waiting.
Now he was getting worried, his boys had called him to confirm whether their target would still make it into the trap
“Be on guard…search everywhere follow every movement, he may have even come…” he had told his men severally. But he wasn’t sure anymore, nobody who had entered the church in the last one hour fitted into the description that was given to him.
He pulled the picture again and look at the man ‘what if he disguised himself?’ Lieutenant has nurtured the thought within him for a while, ‘or he may decide to send someone else’
“Oga officer, na your papa be that?” the old church guard asked, chewing bitter-kola with what was left of his tobacco stained teeth.
“No…just a friend”
“He resemble you o, I think say na your papa”
Lieutenant was still trying to figure out what to respond to the guard when someone opened the small gate and walked in. his eyes followed the man who stopped two times to asked questions.
“Gafara dai (Excuse me)” he said to the Guard and hurried towards the stranger
Abdul stood few feet behind the man and watched him closely, he saw the man said something on the phone, unconsciously the stranger combed his chin as if he was combing a beard.
“Are you looking for someone?” Lieutenant Abdul asked
“I am fine” answered the Man. Abdul noticed the stranger wouldn’t turn to face him, ‘was he trying to hide his face?’
“I can help you if you need help” Abdul walked side by side with the stranger, trying to look him on the face
“I can find my way” the man said piously, he hastened his steps, leaving Abdul wondering where he had seen the face before.
Abdul pulled the picture given to him again, there was a striking resemblance but the hair and the beard was gone, the man he just spoke to looked like a younger version of the man in the picture.
He shoved the picture back inside his jean pocket, alerted his men and followed the man inside the church.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by queenitee(f): 4:23pm On Mar 15|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 11:26pm On Mar 15|
Thanks so much for this
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 12:56am On Mar 16|
Well done ma'am
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by anneboy02(m): 4:17am On Mar 16|
Am really amazed by ur writing skills and the angle u always pick ur piece
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 3:34pm On Mar 16|
Hmmmm. Scatter tinz
Tanks for the update
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 11:56pm On Mar 17|
They didn’t bother to cover their hairs before they hurried inside the church, which drew dozens of heads towards them and murmurings of disapproval. She didn’t even realize how awful she looked and why she had those people looking at her in disdain, only Kafaya noticed the looks, heard the voices and was afraid to keep walking inside the church.
Yet she kept moving on, twice she hit her bare foot on the edge of a pew, she staggered but kept walking, her head turning like the seconds hand of a clock, her eyes roaming while she kept muttering his name under her breath.
A woman walked up to them, a church warder, Kafaya knew this by the sash which the woman wore, as the woman held Ukwuoma by the shoulder, forcing her out of the church, Kafaya hurried to her side,
“Madam you are distracting the prayer section…” said the warder
“I am looking for my son…” Ukwuoma said inaudibly, struggling to free herself from the church warder’s grip
“Madam please…leave her…let me take her home…” Kafaya said in a hush voice, they were drawing attentions and some church members were already on their feet
“I am looking for my son! I am looking for Ogugua my son!!” Ukwuoma was desperate, turning to every direction
“Why will you allow her inside?” a man said to the warder “Sister please take your mother out, we don’t have any lost child here…” more hands held her and tried to push her out
“Leave me! Leave me alone!!” she struggled “Ogugua!!”
The boy heard her voice, no matter how long they were apart, he could recognize the voice he once called ‘Ma’. He started crying, wiping tears and mucus that were running down her eyes and nose with the back of his palm while trying to get out of the pew in search of the voice.
He saw the boy as he made his way out of a pew on the third roll from the western door, he had little time remaining “Thirty minutes” Yusuf had told him and he had less than ten minutes left, so he increased his pace.
The boy glanced at him once but kept walking towards a group of people dragging a woman out of the church, “Ma!” he heard the boy called. At first he thought his dead wife had come back to life until the woman turned towards the boy, wiggled herself out from the grips of those holding her and ran towards the boy, “Who is this woman" he thought he didn’t want to find out, his time was ticking, unless Yusuf was found by his men and probably killed, he would be playing by Yusuf’s rules.
The woman got to the boy before him, she roughly held the boy to her bosom and pushed him away as fast as she hugged him, with the look in her eyes, it was obvious she found out. For she quickly pulled the woolen cloth off the boy, exposing the belt fitted around his bare skin.
For that split of seconds the world around them stopped, the chants, the sounds from the church organ, the shuffling of feet, then… “Yaron da aka saka wani bam! (The boy is wearing a bomb!)” someone shouted.
The three five feet entrance door of the church suddenly became too small for worshiper to escape for safety. People were pushing against each other, forming barricades against themselves, it was a case of the strong stampeding the weak, as some worshipers found themselves on the ground, mostly women and children, while other stumbled and fell.
He looked at the bomb, the time was already set off and was ticking, he knew nothing about bombs, Yusuf was the expert, the best the group had. He needed to do what he could to make Yusuf stop,
“Yusuf!” he called out “Da Allah, ya ne dan (please he is your nephew” no responds. Ukwuoma sat at the feet of the boy, she had her arms wrapped around him while sobbing
“Baba (Father)” the boy called him when he saw him. “Baba abin da ke faruwa (Father, what is happening)” the boy sobbed
“Yusuf! My son!! Kada ka yi wannan (Please don’t do this)” Husayn pleaded “ya kasance kamar wani dan muku (he was like a son to you) you used to call him son!”
No responds except Ukwuoma’s sobs, The boy’s crying and the beeping from the belt.
“come in now, we have our man” Lieutenant Abdul ordered on the ear piece that curled on his ear like a baby snake.
Six military Men on mufti surrounded Husayn, he had his phone taken and two of his men brought to him on handcuffs before he could make any call,
“He is my son! Umaru is my son!! Allah will not forgive you!” he was shouting as they escorted him out of the church, into a waiting van “I am a servant of Allah! You are making yourselves Allah’s enemies!!!”
“Go to hell!” Abdul replied him “…Get that woman out of there! Everybody out! Out!!!” he shouted as he made huge strides towards the scene. But the woman refused to let go of the boy, her hands were on him like an iron welded on a poll.
“Chief You didn’t tell us the boy has a bomb on him” one of his men said in confusion
“I don’t have any idea…where is Elia? Someone get me Sargent Elia on line now?”
“How many minutes do we have sir?”
“Four freaking minutes, anyone ever saw the Yusuf of a guy?”
Kafaya tried again to get Ukwuoma out, “Don Allah mu je” she pleaded, but the woman shoved her hand off;
“Zan mutu tare da shi, bari mu tafi mu hadu da wasu a can (let me die with him, let us go and meet the others over there)” the woman was laughing and sobbing at the same time as she caressed the boy’s cheeks and spoke softy to him, “Zan nuna maka, yan uwanku…da mijina, su duka suna son ku…Zan gaya musu ban kasa ka (I will show you your brothers, and my husband, they will all love you…I will tell them I didn’t fail you)”
Kafaya gave out a sob as she was being dragged out, they had three minutes left. Senator Kazeem’s number was switched off and Abdul could not get him, and the men had combed all the nook and crannies of the church, no one seemed to have seen Yusuf
Abdul was stuck on either getting out of the church to save himself or seat with this woman and the child trying to figure out what to do with the little time left
He was not trained in explosives and the only person who was trained on the damn thing was still on his way. Yusuf has disconnected his phone, making it impossible to speak to him.
“You guys should get out of here now” he said to his men
“I said you guys should get out now!”
“What of you… and the woman?” someone asked
He didn’t plan it this way, first he wasn’t expecting that woman to appear. Her presence complicated the whole plans. If things had worked the way he planned it, the boy would have exploded right before Imam Husayn, he wanted to torture husayn, now he was torn apart emotionally.
He owed the woman so much, he knew that. He recognized her the first day they met after he let those men to her house;
“Wey dokita wife?” he had asked that day.
He didn’t know her, but Mohammed had led them to her house, they had killed her husband before coming to her, her two boys had died with his own blade cutting off their heads.
He was very stupid; he knew that now. “They are Kafirs, sacrifice them to Allah and build your own mansion in paradise” Husayn had said to them before they left that morning.
The sight of blood had intoxicated him, he may not remember the faces he tortured and killed during that riot, but this woman’s face was on his head.
He didn’t know she would live; they had left her almost dead. ‘rabo ne mai kariya’ (Fate is a bitch)
And there he was, doing the same thing he did months ago to her. He knew Abdul was trying to get to him, he didn’t trust them, neither did he trust Senator Kazeem, he had sneaked out of the church immediately Husayn was arrested, he was there when husayn was pushed inside the van, their eyes had locked and he saw the hatred in the old man’s eyes while Yusuf gave a ghost of a smile.
He also disconnected his phone, he broke the sim and left the phone for anyone to pick. He has only one thing left on his mind, to find his way out of the church, out of Abuja and if possible out of the country where he would lay low for a while, but he must see his father first.
He got out from the parsonage, he scaled the fence and landed on a mud, the whole place was deserted as well. They must have gotten wind of the bomb and must have all ran for safety.
He brought out the little remote he hid on his back pocket, the boy has fifty-eight seconds left, “who will pay for what you did?” he remembered the question, hissed and brought down the switch. He threw the remote on a hard ground, smashed it with his boot and kept walking.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 10:41am On Mar 18|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by rukidanty: 10:53am On Mar 18|
why you end am this way na..well thanks for the update
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