laikas:

plz sir, these one u're saying does not concern me o, my own is that u shld come fast and finish anytin concerning cracked source, or else.....

OK Sir!

Talius:

OK Sir!

I'm female

laikas:

I'm female

Apologies. If its any consolation, work has started for Book 3, it will be ready soon.

Talius:


Apologies. If its any consolation, work has started for Book 3, it will be ready soon.

dat's why you're my man, plzzz post asap.

i fear for mark, he may turn guy.

laikas:

dat's why you're my man, plzzz post asap.

i fear for mark, he may turn guy.

LOL. What makes you think so?

Talius:

LOL. What makes you think so?

cos he was molested while in jail

laikas:

cos he was molested while in jail

Makes sense. Let's wait to see how it goes.

Talius:

Makes sense. Let's wait to see how it goes.

Oga Talius, wait for how long now?

laikas:

Oga Talius, wait for how long now?

Don't be offended. A lot of factors are against me, causing for slow writing. I apologize again. Give me more time.

Talius:

Don't be offended. A lot of factors are against me, causing for slow writing. I apologize again. Give me more time.

'Cos today is my birthday, apology accepted. I wil wait, no matter how long it takes.

laikas:

'Cos today is my birthday, apology accepted. I wil wait, no matter how long it takes.

Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!

I wish you long life and prosperity. More grace to function. Cheers!

Talius:
Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!
I wish you long life and prosperity. More grace to function. Cheers!

Amen. Thanks a lot.

Book 3

Coming Soon

I don't know if this apology suffices, but I'll make it anyway. I'm sorry for my roughly one year hiatus. I'm back and ready to complete the story.

My people...
Soteriahascome, princeOFprince, kongru, qhdr, Fidelismaria, missmossy, cutechicluv, Nmaglit, rmfunky, maximanuel, ped007, lordseb, vlip42, maggdon, humbleamanda, laikas, smartec, donhils, superman10, Fijumokesayo, kikayboss, lacasera14, loisemm, Lolaabokoku, ucheclub, silensa, davespog2, jubizy, faksy, nigelcoop, baxxx, ghostwriter, cutediva87, Venusbetty, maggielovely, slimzy2k16, bibijay123, heskeyw, Shakyroh320, Essyprity, yorhmienerd, BB4u, Maximanuel, Kerr9,

Book 3


C1

The sound of sirens blasting filled the air. Outside the magnificent skyscraper of Lewis Chamber, thick smolder puffed ceaselessly out through the east wing. Personnel of the Nigerian police force, firefighters, and the Army were on site to ease the tension caused by the explosion. Lewis chambers was situated at one of the busiest corners on the Lagos Island. Debris and corpses littered the building’s surrounding – out of the rubbles, excavators scampered for survivors, but none had been found.

Two hours ago …

Akin hurried after Andrew, they had a lot to talk about. They stopped on the floor of the conference room, where an important stakeholder’s meeting was happening: They had a lot to talk about as the journey to create the father-son dynamic their relationship needed was just starting. Akin needed to sincerely ask for Andrew's forgiveness concerning the many sins he had committed against him and his mother, but he wasn’t sure how to proceed, Andrew’s hostile takeover of the firm months ago took him by surprise. Before that time, he had contemplated telling Andrew the truth about his parentage, but things took a downward spiral from thence.
They hadn’t spoken for long when Akin noticed Dimeji approaching in a funny manner. He drew Andrew’s attention towards him. Both men chased after him, because he walked and looked guilty. Dimeji hurried into the conference room, and before father and son could enter, an explosion happened on the inside. Andrew and Akin were both thrown backwards by the magnitude of the blast, they fell hard.
A couple having lunch at an eatery opposite the firm, and security agents that still lingered around the premises after mother’s arrest, expressed shock at the explosion. A chunk of the building from the exploded east wing fell on one of the officers who couldn’t get to safe ground on time; everyone ran for safety. Some religious fanatic thought it was the world coming to an end.

Dimeji ran as though his life depended on it. The end of his short but miserable life did depend on him entering the conference room unhindered. For the weeks since Mother refused him the money he demanded as payment for his silence on Imelda’s death, he had become suicidal, devising different ways to get back at her and the Firm as a coping mechanism. Then came Patricia, with her coherent plan, which was exactly what he needed to hear at that time. It didn’t take, coercion or hypnotism for him to agree to her idea to sacrifice himself, he just wanted to go out with a bang. He threw himself on the door to force it open to avoid Andrew catching up to him.
Within split seconds of him entering, he observed and recognized the shock on everyone’s face and the fear when he opened his jacket to reveal the bomb fitted in. Without much thoughts, he continued with the decision that brought him there. The closest person to Dimeji’s position tried to play the action hero, he dashed to stop the detonation. He was the first to die. The flame originated from within Dimeji’s torso and engulfed the man in less than a microsecond; it quickly spread to all sides of the room.
In those microseconds, the panic in the room was at overdrive, and a pixelated frame by frame view of the situation revealed a lot:

Mark hurriedly embraced Anna. He threw his weight on her and they fell hard to the marble-floor that was fast gaining heat from the increasing flames. As the flame spread towards them, Mark tried unsuccessfully to utter the words, “I love you.” Before Anna’s eyes, his back caught fire as the flame passed over them.
The fire quickly broke through the ceiling; it sent bricks, support beams, and chandeliers falling from the top. The stylish pane that gave the ceiling a deluxe feel shattered into many pieces, causing its debris to fly sporadically into the supple skins of frightened individuals awaiting their possible deaths.

A heavy piece of broken glass was headed Patrick’s way. He rolled over to avoid it, only to be greeted with the weight of a falling chandelier fitted to a large chunk of POP board, and the passing tide of fire that burnt his trapped legs.
The energy released by the explosion threw three men sitting close to the open-door of the balcony, two directors and a pressman, over. It threw them indifferently, burning, into the open air-space. Their emergence in mid-air, and the emerging flame and debris caught the attentions of the people in the surrounding, and within five minutes the paramedics and firefighters were around, the police soon followed and assisted in orderly evacuating the building while the paramedics and firefighters did their jobs.
In the midst of the persisting noise caused by the running and crying, out of fear, of the many staffs around, Andrew opened his eyes. He had blurry vision, but from the position he was he could see the inside of the conference room: it no longer had a door. His first thoughts were for Anna’s safety. “Anna!” He passionately cried out; he struggled to move, but the pain from his hard-landing moments ago troubled his legs and hands as much as it did his head and vision, yet, he didn’t relent, he needed to be sure that the love he held dear to his heart wasn’t already dead. He pushed himself to the limit, crawling as he repeatedly cried out Anna’s name. Someone obscured his vision; he looked up to see the face; with his blurry vision, he tried to make a name.

“Patricia!” He called out.

Patricia smiled, and lifted her right-hand: she swung a thick, wooden plank she held and hit the back of Andrew’s head before he could interfere with her plans.

Ambulance sirens blew louder outside as their numbers increased. As the building was been evacuated, onlookers surged to see firsthand the tragedy that had befallen Lagos state. Individuals toppled over themselves for a front-view of the action. In two's stretchers emerged from ambulances, hoping to carry injured victims out. Members of the press fought hard to take pictures of the living and the dead, everything was news. Even the sporadic shooting in the air by the Army to scare them off didn’t do much to dissuade them.
Anna was rolled out. She had her left arm injured and was crying uncontrollably; the words in her mouth bore only one name, Mark’s. She was inconsolable, it was as though her life depended on her stretched hand touching Mark’s corpse, which was been rolled immediately behind. The scene was chaotic, the press, overly excited; men of the force tried to calm all nerves; this presented Anna with the opportunity to jump-off. She quickly unzipped the body bag to the chest region. Her wails knew no bound: seeing Mark’s badly scarred face and lifeless body caused her more pain than she was already in.

C2


The morning after was no better, Anna’s mental health was still in very bad condition.

Two days after the greatest explosion the city of Lagos had seen in recent memory, and things were still very far from normal.
Anna turned her head away from the window. She didn’t want to look at the doctor, but the pain of seeing Mark’s apparition by the window-side was becoming overwhelming. He was speaking to her, but she couldn’t hear anything.

“I’m sorry for your losses,” the Doctor said. Anna only nodded her head, her tears still flowed; she wondered how the Doctor could have the conscience to keep repeating his consolation; each wish he gave was a hard reminder of her present reality – no man nor child to look forward to. All she could think about was leaving the hospital to an asylum, faraway, as soon as possible.

Beatrice paced the aisle on the third floor of The Pavilion Hospital’s; she was growing angrier with each passing moment. The nurses delayed answering questions pertaining to Andrew’s state of being.
The moment she saw the update on the Network news two days ago she started making plans to return to town, to better understand the full extent of the damages caused by the explosion. She remembered the great pain she felt when she saw Andrew’s unconscious body being carried out of the building on Live-TV; the unimaginable expression of guilt she wore when she realized all the many horrible things she said to him before she left that she hadn’t yet unsaid. ‘Who knew life could be so fleeting?’ She thought.

Her impatience increased, she was tired of waiting for someone to calm her fear. After waiting patiently for more than three hours, she had to take matters into her hands. She waited for an opportunity to walk pass the nurse at the reception.

“Ms. Beatrice.”

The sound of her named caused Beatrice to halt, for fear of being ousted before she could make her move. Her relief came when she realized the call was from another Nurse across the hall. She came bearing good news.

“He’s this way.” the Nurse said.

Beatrice heaved a sigh of relief and walked with her head up high. Other visitors in the waiting room whispered and gossiped amongst themselves in a fashion typical of Nigerians. Their actions didn’t make her care for their feelings any more than she did moments ago. On arriving the door, she panicked, thoughts flew through her head; she was confused on the right thing to say when she comes face to face the man she loves. The door opened to interrupt her thoughts, an older nurse walked out of the room, shaking her head, carrying a patient’s file – Beatrice could see Andrew’s name written boldly on it.

The nurse paused on her steps and looked up to Beatrice. “Are you his wife?” She asked.

“No.” The nurse who brought Beatrice answered in her stead. “She’s just a friend.”

Beatrice didn't like the nurse’s tone, it held contempt. But she couldn't argue because she didn't have the time to, she left both women to gossip and walked to the window: the blinds were undone and she could see Andrew lying helplessly on the bed. He had many tubes in him plugged into different machines. He was on life support.

“He’s not breathing. He’s not breathing!” Beatrice cried out, her hands fought with her hair in tears of desperation. "Why is he not breathing?" She asked no one in particular. Both nurses still ignored her, they kept up with their thrilling gossip, until Andrew’s doctor came by, then they scampered in feats of pseudo-activities, much to Beatrice’s disgust.

“He’s in a coma,” the doctor said to Beatrice, “but he’ll be alright.”

In the adjacent room, under a less tensed atmosphere, there Akin sat. His left arm was fractured as a result of the heavy fall sustained in the explosion. A male and female nurse attended to him, setting the bone in place. He was in pain, yet, he refused all forms of anesthetic; he wanted to feel the pain of the moment. Reality was beginning to dawn on him that his only legitimate son was murdered and his illegitimate battled for his life in a coma. He wished the pain would consume him faster; he felt the world would be a better place without him because he had nothing more to live for. The increasing noise from Beatrice’s wails caused chill to repeatedly flow down his spine, it fueled the only kind of feeling he wanted at this moment – pain.

The older Nurse (who was initially with Beatrice) entered the room still clinging to Andrew’s files. She was there to say something important to Andrew, and all he could do was listen in silence.

Andrew’s mother was already settled into the police cell, where she was to be held until the time for questioning. She was extremely agitated, dishing one threat after another to the officers on duty if she wasn’t let out. She overhead them congratulating a young officer on the birth of his son, and tried blackmailing him to let her out, using the bond between parent and child. When that didn’t work, she threatened his wife and newborn’s security, further worsening her case.

“I’ll have your baby boy skinned before your wife’s eyes, and when she’s broken enough, I’ll have her stabbed repeatedly before you. Do you hear me?”

“Are you threatening me?” The officers asked.

“Since you have no compassion, I might as well teach you a lesson.”

The sergeant got angry. He hurried towards her, fuming; he would slap her if he could, but he held his cool long enough to speak, “You’re evil. Now I believe you killed that girl.”
His statement stunned Mother, she wanted to say something to defend her honor, but was interrupted by the arrival of the D.P.O.

“Ms. Jasmine,” the D.P.O. called mother’s attention to him, “I have news from your son.”

Mother’s attention was naturally drawn. She was elated, Andrew sent her a message. She waited impatiently for the D.P.O. to relay his message.

“Mr. Andrew gave us enough information to put you away for a long time,” he started, waiting for Mother to react. “It’s in your best interest to cooperate with us.”

“I want to see my son. I want to see my Andrew!” Mother shouted. She looked at him angrily; she stared with hatred-filled eyes. She couldn't what she had just heard.

Anna sat quietly at the back-seat of the taxi; her head spoke at many turns, all to her confusion. The psychiatrist's evaluation that she wasn't ready to go back into the world couldn't stop her from leaving. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that grieving over Mark, her lost-fetus, and Andrew wasn't going to make her pain disappear, she was going to overcome the pain with time but it had to be on her own terms, not what a John Hopkin's trained Doctor says.

"Stop here," Anna said.

The Uber-driver pulled over in silence.

Anna alighted. "Thank you," she said, as she made payment. She looked across the road from where she stood – there was a classy nightclub there – that was where she needed to be, to find a faster way to heal.

Please I need download links to the following classic books (electronic copy).

1.Tell Freedom (by Peter Abraham)

2.The passport of Malam illia (Cyprian Ekwensi)

3. Palmwine Drinkard (Amos Tutuola)

4. Nobody's Child

Kindly send to dademola24@gmail.com

Sorry for derailing the thread.

C3


"You can't be serious, Doctor," Beatrice said. Her voice louder than usual.

"I'm sorry. There's nothing more we can do for him," The doctor apologized again.

Beatrice understood the hard way why people hated Government-controlled hospitals. If Andrew had been carried to a private hospital from the explosion site, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. The doctor was telling her Andrew would be taken off life-support if he didn’t show any sign of improvement before the end of the day, because they were running out of bed-space for other patients. Beatrice raised her eyes to Akin. He had nothing to say; he let the doctor go peacefully even after threatening the survival of his only surviving heir.

"What is wrong with you?" Beatrice asked.

Akin quietly looked up. “You heard what the doctor said, there’s nothing that can be done if Andrew doesn’t wake up by himself,” he said.

“He can be taken to another hospital, that’s something that can be done.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She took a good look at Andrew, and imagined what it would be like tomorrow, beside his lifeless body. “Let’s take him to another hospital,” Beatrice suggested.

Akin looked on: he had nothing to say.

"You can't be serious, doctor."

Those words echoed a while through the clinic’s passage; they were from Mrs. Patrick’s mouth. The news she had just received was the worst since the news of her father’s death ten years ago.

“I’m sorry, but your husband might not be able to walk again,” Dr. Gusanu reiterated.

"Why?" She asked, shouting. “Tell me, why?” She asked again. Without awaiting a reply, she held both her hands up against the doctor’s coat.

“What have you not tried? Do so. I’ll try to make the money available, no matter the amount.”

"I'm sorry, ma, there’s nothing more I can do,” Dr. Gusanu said. He was a young man, in his late 20’s, and could understand her pain by putting his mother in her shoes.

"Hey, baby," Patrick called for his wife. He had just awoken and heard her sobbing.
She let go of Dr. Gusanu, “Thank you for everything so far,” she said, and gave him a light pat on the shoulder before walking away.

“My love,” she greeted Patrick.

Patrick could see through her. With their reignited love, he could better tell when she was sad: it was written all over her face now. “What’s the matter?”

“I want you back home as soon as possible,” she tried to play modest.

“Tell me what it is, I can handle whatever it is,” he demanded, “Stop treating me like an invalid,” he added. Both their eyes naturally drifted to his heavily bandaged legs.

Mrs. Patrick started to cry. It brought Patrick’s heart to see her like that and he unable to console her. “It’s okay,” he said, “It’ll all be alright.”

“It won’t be,” she muttered. “The doctor said you might not be able to walk again,” she said.

Patrick smiled, “Is that why you’re troubled?” He asked. “I know already. I haven’t been able to feel my legs since the day I got here, and I’ve resigned myself to fate, whichever way it decides to blow its wind, I’m ready,” he said reassuringly.

Mrs. Patrick was dumbfounded. In her tears, she looked at her husband very well, her attention was on the details of his eyes, they bore sincerity, they bore love. “I love you, Patrick,” she said. She held onto his hands.

“I love you too,’ he replied. They both chuckled.


Akin stood before the large body-mirror at the end of the hallway. As he dead-stared, his eyes caught sight of a fresh cut beneath his lower lip; he touched it. The pain he felt pleased him very much. He touched it again, and again, and again; the pleasure he derived from the pain was indescribable. He hurried into the rest room and once in the confines of its privacy, he brought out a pocket knife, one that was given to him by his mother years. He rolled up his sleeves and began to cut himself; his arm.
He continued mutilating himself, and with his blood being drained, came blurry vision. For a moment, it was as though Akin’s reflection in the mirror didn’t move in accordance with his body. He was getting weaker, gasping for breath, and trying desperately to remain standing. He wiped his eyes hoping it was just a momentary flux.

“You,” his reflection spoke to him.

“Me?” Akin summoned strength to ask.

"Yes, you.”

Akin wasn’t surprised. He was captivated. Watching his reflection converse with him was a genuine treat for a man who had lived through all he had recently.

"I haven't seen you since The Ogbu incident," Akin said.

"That was over twenty years ago. I come only when you're in deep mess,” It said. It paced around its own side for a while, and suddenly appeared in front of Akin. "Stop denying your pain, embrace it, and stop acting pitiable," it said, and disappeared.

Akin was stunned. He fell to the floor. As though a surge of awareness passed through his body, he became conscious of his pool of blood; it scared him enough to almost knock him unconscious. His breathing was getting heavier. By the time he opened his eyes again, he was surrounded by doctors trying to keep him alive.

At the firm, the entire east wing of the building which used to house the conference room had been sealed off by the police pending the conclusion of the investigation. It had been five days since the explosion, yet, not a single police officer had visited the blast site for inspection. The firm was without guardianship, as most of its directors were killed in the explosion, leaving Patricia in the position to offer herself to lead the others pending when Andrew or Akin returned from the hospital.
Her announcement came as a surprise to many, yet, no one opposed the idea because to most of them left in the firm, Patricia was the most qualified; the firm needed a face to continue running effectively, they were at risk of losing their long-time clients.
Patricia smiled at the unanimous agreement.

"Excuse me," Ms. Caroline, a young female paralegal, said.

Patricia had taken note of her during her speech, the lady had been quiet all through the meeting, until now.

"You have the floor," Patricia said, wearing an obviously fake smile.

“I do not like this idea of you being our leader, what happens when Mr. Akin or Andrew returns?”

Patricia wryly smiled. “Since the explosion happened, these two men haven’t been in their right state of mind. It is up to us to put things straight. This company belongs to us,” she said.

Her speech drew enough admiration from the general public, everyone, save for Ms. Caroline, was impressed.

"Thank you, Patricia,” Caroline said, “But I have someone better in mind to be lead the firm back to its former days of glory.” She walked towards the CEO's seat, but stopped at Patricia's seat, positioned next to the throne, and said, “Patricia, I want you to meet, Abigail.”

A young lady walked in. She was tall, beautiful, and struck a confident pose at the doorpost. "My name is Abigail Akin, Barrister Akin's only daughter, and his last remaining heir. And you’re sitting on my chair.”
The room charged with excitement. Patricia looked dumbfounded.

To read ahead, kindly visit - http://www.youngicee.com/search/label/Cracked%20Sources - to do so.

Talius:
To read ahead, kindly visit - http://www.youngicee.com/search/label/Cracked%20Sources - to do so.

Oga Talius is back. This is book 3 is where the real thing starts.

Wanted to point it out to you about seeing the book 3 in youngicee blog but no p as you are aware

Silensa:


Oga Talius is back. This is book 3 is where the real thing starts.

Wanted to point it out to you about seeing the book 3 in youngicee blog but no p as you are aware

Thanks Silensa, I'll try to post as frequently as possible. The story is getting to the promised land!

E04

It was 08:10 a.m.; the doctor pulled the plug on Andrew’s life support, and for the last ten minutes, Beatrice had to watch, devastatingly, as he drifted
further away from life. Time was passing, and he wasn’t waking up. Akin just stood there, at a corner beside the door and watched his son’s lifeless body;
he silently prayed for a miracle, but none was forth coming.

‘What God gives you children only for him
to take them back?’

Akin asked himself. He hoped for an answer from a God he didn’t really believe in. This was a chance for the supernatural entity to prove himself.
The ward’s door opened; it was the mortuary attendants – human versions of Reapers – they were there to take away Andrew’s body – Beatrice’s wails doubled as she struggled with them to keep his body. A nurse passing by stopped because of the intensity of the noise emanating from that ward; she recognized Beatrice, and sympathized with her. She walked in and
held Beatrice back, whispering in her ears that it was time to let go. It soon dawned on Beatrice that Andrew wasn’t going to wake up; she fell to the ground.

The attendants carried Andrew’s body onto the stretcher and wheeled him away. Akin walked over to Beatrice’s position, and wrapped her in his embrace.
Beatrice sobbed uncontrollably; her sweaty face soiled Akin’s shirt. “Why did he have to go?” She asked.
“I don’t know,” Akin said. His voice was heavy laden, “I have no idea.”

Few steps away from where they stood, few feet
outside the door, Andrew coughed. The attendants instantly took their hands off the stretcher’s handles. He coughed again, used his right hand to support
himself as he stood up; they took to their heels.

Anna paid Mother a visit at the police
station. It was a bad morning, one caused by the new emptiness in her life; she wanted something familiar, something that reminded her of the life she used to
have before the explosion. “How’s my son, Anna?” Mother asked. Her question was synonymous with a
good morning salutation.
Anna freaked. The question mother asked interrupted Anna’s suppressing of Andrew’s memories; it was a coping mechanism she devised during her short stay at the hospital, after the explosion.
The room was getting unusually hot for Anna, and it was because Mother’s presence was becoming unbearable.

“Andrew’s dead,” she lashed out, “He’s
dead!” She stressed.

Mother’s eyes shone. She was intrigued; she wondered why Anna seemed so distraught.

Hands stretched out, Mother attempted to take her hand; Anna refused.
“Do you think I would do him any form of harm?” She asked. “Where is my son?” Mother thundered; her voice bore anger like never before.
Anna fussed. Before her was a woman who had limited interest in how Andrew fared. Growing
up, his interests had always been aligned to serve hers. Anna wasn’t falling for the deceit that Mother truly cared. Yet, she confessed, saying, “I do not
know.”

“He loves you, you know?” Mother
started, “After everything you’ve done to him, he still loves you. And, you’re still taking him for granted.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to
you,” Anna fired back.

“Yes, you do. You should tell me how
my son is,” Mother screamed, “How is my son, Anna?”

“I don’t know, okay. I don’t know.”
Anna hit the table, and stood. She was done playing Mother’s games, and was ready to take her leave. “I love Andrew, but that’s not something you’ll ever understand,” she said, and clutched onto her purse, “I really hope you spend the remainder of your miserable life here.”

“Don’t say that,” Mother sounded
apologetic.

Anna walked away without saying anything else.
The scream from Mother caused her to feel a guilty sense of pleasure. As she stepped out of the station, her cell-phone beeped. On examination, she saw it was a text from Beatrice, saying, Andrew’s alive.

Beatrice couldn’t understand what the Doctor meant by his last statement. She turned her head towards Andrew, to get a better view of him, restrained, and battling endlessly to get out of the straps. He was more of a pitiable specimen, than an item of curiosity, for someone who just returned from the grasp of death.
The Doctor pulled Beatrice and Akin aside, to talk. Andrew was diagnosed with amnesia, caused by the shortage of oxygen to his brain the period he was thought dead. “We can’t tell the extent of the damage returning from death caused,” Dr. Gusanu said.

“What do you mean, doctor?” Akin interrupted rudely,

“You’re a doctor, you shouldn’t be believing in such.”

“Well, I’m a Christian first, and a doctor second. Believe me when I tell you your son was dead for three hours…”

“You killed him. You took away his
life support, and now, you’re saying this rubbish,” Beatrice cut him. “We’ll sue you. We’ll close this entire hospital for destroying his life.” She
shouted. Akin tried without much success to calm her down. The Doctor left. He hoped his absence would make Beatrice calm down. He promised to be back shortly with a better proposal on how they’d all proceed
from there. Every time Akin made eye contact with Andrew, he felt his spine shiver. From the look in Andrew’s eyes, one could tell he recognized his
father; animosity, anger, and confusion hatred filled them. "Where is Ramon?”
Akin and Beatrice looked at each other with surprise. Even though Ramon was dead, the
mention of her name meant Andrew’s amnesia wasn’t a total one.

Beatrice was less excited than Akin; she was still shaken with fears of her own. She wanted Andrew to recognize her; she wanted to hear him call her name with the same mixture of vigor and delicacy he always used to. But none of that happened.

“Why are you doing this to us, Andrew; to me? Andrew
calmed down for a moment; it was as though hearing his name juggled his memory.

“Why?” Beatrice asked again.

“Take me to the church” Andrew said.

His statement made no sense to her. She wondered how a church came into their discussion.

“Take me to the church,” Andrew said
again.
“What church?” Beatrice naturally
asked.
“The
church in the dark,” he said.

C5

Beatrice paced the aisle, with two cups in tow. One was coffee, and was for her to keep vigil; the other was mineral water, should Andrew care. He was erratic, hence, had to be restrained. By the time Beatrice arrived the ward, the straps that bound Andrew was still there, but there was no sign of him. She panicked, which caused the cups to slip off her hands; the splash of the hot coffee burned her exposed legs.
She made it to the nurse at the reception, close to the ward. The nurse claimed to have no knowledge of Andrew passing.

“What do you mean he's missing?” she asked in confidence, before she grudgingly followed Beatrice back to Andrew’s ward.

“Where is he?”

Beatrice’s eyes shone. Wasn’t she the one who came to report Andrew’s disappearance? The nurse was consciously trying to pin the disappearance on her, rather than suggest ways to begin his search.

“How dare you?” Beatrice asked. “How dare you try to put this one me?”

“How dare you try to teach me my job?” The nurse fired back.

The nurse took offense. Both women were on the brink of exchanging blows, before Dr. Gusanu arrived the scene.

“Nurse, go wait in my office,” he said.

When she didn’t play ball, he threatened her with disciplinary action. The possibility of a suspension scared her, after a dauntless career spanning twenty years.

“What happened?” The doctor asked Beatrice.

“I don’t know,” Beatrice began, “I went out to get a drink and by the time I was back, he was gone.”

Andrew paraded the streets of Lagos for roughly two hours. His bare-feet graced the hard floor, even as the sun scorched. He had spent the time searching for The Church – a place that looked like he had just been there yesterday, but in reality, it’s been twelve years since his last visit.
Everywhere had changed drastically from how he last remembered. He hoped the only person he craved more than Ramon at that moment – Lewis – still lived there.

“The Church in the Dark,” Andrew said; reading out the name as displayed on the banner overhead. He thought to himself that the church wasn't much in the dark since everywhere was more opened, brighter, filled with shops and businesses. He wondered again, how so much changes could occur in a day. At the back of his mind, he wondered if the woman at the hospital (Beatrice) was telling the truth when she said he had lost his memories. Everything seemed so normal, yet, so confusing.

“Hello, brother. Can I help you?” A young greeted.

“I'm sorry,” Andrew apologized, “I was about leaving.” He turned to go.

“Nonsense,” another voice said.

Andrew paused on his steps: the voice was familiar. He turned, and saw an old man, who he called Prophet – He was the leader of the ‘Church In The Dark’.

“My son,” the prophet called; he opened his arms wide for an embrace. His browned teeth escaped their hold in excitement when he said, “I knew you’d return.”

Andrew buried himself in his embrace, a familiar place. Both of them walked side-by-side into the church. Andrew's eyes caught sight of the most beautiful lady he's seen in recent memory; the one responsible for his unaccountable missing heart beats.

“You remember Lewis, right? She’s my youngest wife.” The prophet asked.

“Yes, I do,” Andrew quietly replied. The full story was coming back to him. He remembered his time with the church, the prophet, and how he met Lewis.

The prophet’s smile almost tore the corners of his mouth, his excitement knew no bound. “I married her. We have two children, Praise and Worship,” he said, wearing a grin.

Andrew took a better look at Lewis and her children; he realized the beauty he saw on her when he first walked in wasn’t really there. She looked worn out, and her children, Praise, two years old, and Worship, three months old, had seen better days.

“What happened to her?”

The prophet heaved a sigh of exhaustion, “She grew up,” he said, “And you should too.”

He walked towards the altar, forcing Lewis with him. He called out for Andrew’s attention, he needed him to watch what was about to happen. Andrew was to understand that all that transpired between him and Lewis was in the past; it was ordained by God to make Lewis the vessel to carry his miraculous seeds.

“Pay attention, my son, to the word of the Lord,” he said, You shall have no other god before me. So, cheer up.”

Lewis looked away; she broke off contact with her husband. She walked away with her children without saying a word to either Andrew or her husband.

The Prophet returned to Andrew’s position, he put a hand on his shoulder, cleared his throat, and said, “You are full of surprises, my son, and I am happy to have you back.”

The young man who met Andrew at the door, walked in. His name was Elias, and he shook Andrew’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you,” he said, full of admiration.

Elias wanted Andrew to know he really respected him. Andrew was a legend at ‘The Church’, a role model of some sort for them diligently doing the work of God in their various capacities: the prophet always referenced him.

“I want to become a Lawyer someday, just like you," Elias said.

Andrew smiled. “That's good,” he commended him. His voice betrayed him, he sounded unsure, and tried to play along so as not to let the young man down.

Elias also wanted to know who Andrew preferred to take him on a tour round the Church's facility, him or Glory, a young lady he had been bickering with behind the scene.

“He’ll wants me,” Glory said from a distance.

Elias squeezed his face, and bit his lips. Glory walked closer.

Akin walked in to his living room, looking disturbed. The events of the past weeks caused him anxiety unlimited, everywhere inch of the place triggered memories he was trying to suppress. Once upon a time, he was a man who had everything he ever wanted – a successful law firm, wealth, children – now, all that was left were memories. The exquisitely decorated space held no sway over him anymore.

There was a sound behind him; he quickly looked.

“Abigail!” He shouted, “Is that really you?”

Abigail walked into the light, she gave her father a hug. Akin was surprised to see her, she never told him she was returning to Nigeria; he hadn’t even spoken to her in months, since Andrew’s hostile takeover. As much as he didn’t want to admit, he wanted her around.

“I’ve missed you, daddy,” she spoke softly; not wanting to let go, she held onto him tightly.

“I’ve missed you too, my angel,” Akin replied. “Why did you return?” He wanted to know, “You should have stayed back till all these was over.”

“Not when my family needs me.”

Akin broke off the embrace. He didn’t want to hear what she was saying. “Why are you here? Why are you here, Abigail?” He stressed. “You need to return to the US first thing tomorrow.”

“No, daddy. It is you who needs to return. To the firm. Your legacy,” she said, “Your people need you back as soon as possible.”

Abigail closed the gap between them, and placed her hands over his shoulders. She wished she could fully understand what was happening inside his head, to better share in his pain, but it wasn’t possible. She had to settle for what she had now. He’s supposed to be her strength, and here she was providing succor for him instead.

“Daddy, please. You need to consider this,” she started, “I can’t do this alone. I need you with me.” She said with pleading voice.

“I don’t know how to,” Akin said.

“You don’t have much of a choice.”

“I have nothing to give you anymore, Abigail. If I reenter your life, you’ll die. I’m like cancer, I destroy everyone I touch.” It was becoming increasingly difficult to fight back the tears trying to escape his broken heart.

Abigail wiped away her tears. “Okay. So, now I’m giving you a choice; you either come back to the firm or forget about it and me forever. You’ll be removed from the Board of Trustees,” she said.

Akin said nothing. Abigail left.

C6


Andrew had been trying for the past two weeks to get an audience with Lewis, alone. Apart from the days of church services, she was a rare commodity to find; she had her hands full, taking care of two children of demanding ages. Today was his lucky day, Lewis walked into the church through the western door. He was excited to see her.

“Lewis,” he called. But she wouldn’t answer. She instead, hurried out back out as soon as she took what she came in for.

“Caught you.” He sounded exited.

“Leave me alone, Andrew,” she shouted at him.

He could clearly see years of pains buried behind her eyes.

“What did I do to you? Why do you hate me so much?" He asked, with concern written all over his face.

Tears began to stroll down Lewis' cheeks. “You left me, she said, “For that old woman, you left me. Me.”

“I don’t remember, don’t you see?”

Lewis turned her back on him.

“I’m sorry for whatever it was between us. But this is me, the Andrew you used to know, the one who loves you more than anything else in this world.”

Lewis grabbed him by the head and kissed him deeply before he could apologize any further. He was the love of her life, and he kissed her back. His hands quickly found their way to her back, her zip quickly came undone. Thoughts of her husband kept coming, but Lewis kept on suppressing them; all she wanted at that point was Andrew.

She had undone his trouser zipper, and was on her knees to suck him off. After two thrusts from Andrew, there was an interruption; both quickly covered their shames. Before they could address the intruder.

“Mummy!” Elias shouted. He was too shocked at what he’d seen that he couldn’t utter any other word. Lewis felt so ashamed, she ran away.

“You cannot say anything to the prophet please,” Andrew begged.

“Of course not,” Elias quickly responded, “Why would I want to be a killjoy?” He asked. His voice was layered with seduction. He readjusted his shoulders and started to walk towards Andrew with the full feminine force he could muster.

“Why would I expose the man I love to harm?”

Andrew fought hard to hide the disgust written all over his face. Elias fingered his bellybutton, and toyed with his lips, all in a bid to further attract the man.

“You’re a fine young man, Elias,” Andrew said, “But I’m sorry, I don’t play for your team,” he added, and walked away.
Elias still couldn’t help his infatuation, he admired Andrew since the first day he walked into the church, and the only thing he’d on his mind was bedding him.

Patricia increased her pace to get the letter in her hand to Abigail. Many things had gone wrong within the past few weeks, especially the unexpected appearance of Abigail, Akin's legitimate and much unknown daughter, but she was up to the task of fixing it; that was what she was good at – fixing things. She looked up and saw her rival, overseeing the finishing touches to the newly repaired conference room.

“This just came in for you,” Patricia said to Abigail, “It's very important.”
With the Federal Government of Nigeria's seal on the front cover, Abigail could tell the parcel didn’t bring good tidings. It was a letter, warning the Board of Directors of Lewis Chambers to curtail the incessant death of staffs at the Firm.

Abigail stared exhaustively into space; running the firm was proving harder than she initially thought. Everyday brought with it a new kind of trouble. She was getting frustrated.

KC (the guy from the engineering division Patricia slept with at the parking lot some time ago) arrived their position carrying a large board; it was his design for the final stage of the conference room that was destroyed in the explosion. Abigail praised his work. He was full of joy at her admiration of his work. His eyes naturally drifted towards Patricia, they exchanged quick glances.

Patricia's office phone rang. After five seconds on the line she turned to Abigail and said, “You're needed in your office.” It was an emergency, so, KC was dismissed.

When they arrived, they saw the reason for the emergency.

A married couple was there, demanding to see Andrew, who they knew as the best lawyer in the firm. They were creating a scene, and this angered Abigail.

Mr. & Mrs. Nnabuike had a huge problem, and they needed a lawyer of high caliber.
Twelve years ago, they had adopted a girl child from a young lady who got pregnant out of wedlock. They paid her off financially, enough for the lady to self-train herself, as her parents rejected her after she became pregnant. The problem now was that, the Nnabuike’s never officially adopted the girl, Ndali, and her birth mother, having become successful after her education, wanted her back.

It was a big issue, and according to them, their survival depended on them getting help. That’s why they needed Andrew.
Abigail fought with her inner instincts to explode. How dare they come into her firm and ask after her father’s bastard?



Remember, you can read ahead by visiting and navigating through www.youngicee.com

07

“Yes, you're almost there!” Patrick’s therapist, Dr. Eniola, exclaimed.

‘I am?” Patrick asked. He was elated at the possibility that he might finally walk again without support-clutches.

“Yes, you are,” Dr. Eniola said. “Three more to go,” Patrick’s wife, Helen, added; she had joy written all over her face.

This was their third week at the therapist's office. Every appointment before this one had ended in huge disappointments. There’s was something different about Patrick’s spirit at the beginning of today’s session, and it reflected in the positive outcomes they were getting.

“One more,” Helen said. She gripped Dr. Eniola’s hand: she could hardly contain her excitement.

“Almost there,” Patrick said, to join in their excitement. His joy got the better part of him; he missed his step, and fell to the floor.

The Doctor sighed in frustration. Patrick’s process of recovery was proving more difficult than anticipated, it was going to take longer than he thought, but if the initial happenings of today’s session was something to go by, a miracle was possible.

Helen rushed to her husband's side, “I'm here baby,” she said, “I'm here,” she reiterated.
Patrick pulled away the cravat over his eyes, and clung tightly to his wife’s leg for succor.

Elias caught Andrew and Glory having sex at the church’s backyard. ‘How could she?’ He troubled himself with nagging thoughts. Glory betrayed his trust. She knew he was into Andrew, and was making arrangements to bed him, yet, she put a block on his plans.

He was angry; hence, he gave Andrew the silent treatment as he escorted her back to the church’s main auditorium, where the prophet awaited him.

They arrived the altar. The Prophet was already seated, with his wife beside him.

"Thank you, Elias. You can go now.”

He turned his attention towards Andrew and invited him to the altar.

“How do you feel being here again?” The Prophet asked Andrew, “Tell me the truth.”

Andrew scratched his unkempt beard ferociously for a while; “I’m fine, prophet.”

“Feel free. Talk to me," the prophet seemed urged Andrew. He toyed with the many rings on his fingers.

“I feel at home, prophet,” Andrew said, “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It’s nothing, my son. You’re always welcome here.”
Andrew tried hard to not maintain eye contact with Lewis. Prophet caught his eye movement; he ogled;

“Do you want my wife?” He asked.

The question caught Andrew off-guard. He wondered how the Prophet could be so perceptive?

“I... I..,” Andrew stuttered. “I really don’t know,” he managed to say.

Prophet stood. He took off his large mantle that hid his flabby body. He beckoned Lewis to come over.

“Strip,” he ordered. Lewis obeyed, no questions asked.

Andrew was shocked. Anger had started to creep into him. It caused his great sadness to see the pain that lingered on Lewis’ face.

The Prophet wanted a tag-team sexual conquest, and it was taking Andrew everything he had to say no. It wasn’t until Lewis, herself, summoned him, did he oblige. He only wanted to make her happy.

KC walked into Abigail's office clothed in a cream short, yellow tee, and a sky-blue face cap. He looked dashingly simple in his multicolored appearance, and Abigail could tell. She didn’t care for what brought him around her on his off-day, but that for his bright presence gracing her day. She admired the hairy layer of his feet, it was a guilt she indulged in whenever a guy wasn’t looking.

“Here's the final draft, with the corrections you asked for,” KC said, flashing a smile. Abigail took note. KC was making reference to the designs of the conference room he’d been working on. After their last meeting, he received a memo from her office to squeeze in a minibar in the new design; he was here to make deliver on that notice.

“Thank you," Abigail said. She stretched forth her shaky hands to receive his designs, his hands brushed against hers, and she smiled at him: they both laughed.

KC felt relaxed in her presence, he enjoyed the company of the lady most people at the firm criticize; he’d always admired her from a distance, and now, he had the opportunity to meet her in person, he could tell her exactly how he felt.

“Someday, you’ll be remembered for making this firm great again,” KC said. He was at the door, about taking his leave.

Abigail asked him to wait; he spoke with sincerity, and she felt his opinion mattered. She wanted to know what he sincerely thought of her leadership so far.

KC wanted Abigail to own everyone, because whether they liked it or not, she was the boss. As Akin’s only daughter, she had unrestricted claim to the throne. He claimed to have a way out of all her recent problems, including the couple that created a scene because they wanted to see Andrew.
Abigail became as more smitten. ‘Why isn’t KC on my team?’ She wondered. It’s was taking her time to recruit trusted allies for her own Circle. Just like her father, she believed she needed a circle of friends to function better.

“I want you on my team,” she said, without a second thought.

“What team?” KC asked, oblivious to the severity of the position he had been offered.

“The team that gets to decide most of the happenings of this firm.”
Realizing what he had been offered, KC became dumbfounded; never could he believe he’d rise up the ranks of ‘Lewis Chambers’. He didn’t have a Law degree, he wasn’t Law inclined at all, and here he was being offered to rule one of the biggest Law firms in Lagos.

“I don’t know what to say,” he managed to say.

“Say, thank you.”

Abigail planted a kiss on his lips. It became obvious to KC that Abigail wanted him as much as he did her; for the moment, they belonged to each other. He watched as she returned from bolting the door, falling into his arms, they were for each other now.

C8

Anna sunk herself onto the soft couch in Patricia’s office. It was her first time out since the incident; she’d finally convinced herself that she needed some time with friends. Her head still hurt, even though she had started medication, it still troubled her, and there wasn’t much she could do about it.

Patricia feigned sympathy at Anna’s complaints. She tried hard to not let herself feel angry that her secretary, Nimah, let Anna into her office in her absence; she had to play along, else, Anna get suspicious over her true intentions.

“Hope you’re alright, sweetheart?” She asked.

“Yes,” Anna replied impulsively, but on second thought she reformed her answer, “I’m not so sure.”

It was Patricia’s idea Anna come to the office to pick up Mark’s stuffs he left behind. Anna thought it was her friend helping her to find closure, not knowing Patricia had other agendas.

“What’s the matter?” Patricia asked, fondly.

The question triggered memories Anna was trying hard to suppress. She really wanted to answer, but her strength was failing her; she gave up, and said, “I can’t. I really can’t.” She panicked.

“It’s alright,” Patricia said, and handed over Mark’s box to Anna.

“Thank you,” Anna said, as she received the box.

Patricia smiled, and said, “All I want is for you to be happy, Anna.”

Anna put down the box and gave her a hug, befitting a good friend, for old time sake, and for the deeds of the present.

“You’ve been a very good friend,” Anna said, “… and I love you.”

Lewis’ head found succor on Andrew’s shoulder. She couldn’t bear for the beautiful moment to end. For the past twenty minutes, she enjoyed the sweet pleasures his strokes offered her; she talked about lots of things, from Andrew leaving her for Ramon, to the twelve years she’d spent living life without him. As Andrew still had difficulties remembering things, he did most of the listening.

“I loved you, Andrew,” Lewis said, with so much sadness written on her face.

“Loved me?” Andrew rightly asked. He was confused, yet, surprised.

Lewis sighed. “What more can I say? You’re poison. You destroy everything you touch.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew apologized again, for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Andrew!” She had an outburst. “You destroy everything and everyone. You destroyed my life. You destroyed me. And that’s why you’ll never find love, or be happy.”

Andrew immediately rose to his feet. Her reply was unexpected, and it shocked him. “What do you mean? What do you mean?” He repeatedly asked, but Lewis gave no reply. Andrew could tell something in her words weren’t true. He might not have his full memories, but he felt he experienced true love not too long ago. For some reason, he remembered what true love feels like, thanks to her.

“Good for you,” Lewis congratulated him, “I really hope I’m wrong. And if you do find her make sure you treat her better than you did me.”

Andrew tried to make sense of the way she spoke. He had a question that had burdened him since he first arrived in here. “If you’re so unhappy here, why do you leave?”

Lewis immediately stood up; he was going into territories she’d rather have unexplored yet. Even though she found herself inclined to give him a reply, she fought hard not to, but within seconds, she let her guards down and concluded it was for the best to tell him the truth

“Talk to me, Lewis,” Andrew chided her. “What does the Prophet have on you?” He pressed further.

“Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.”

The Prophet walked into the hall at that exact moment. His presence caused them to become disconcerted. Lewis immediately rose, and made to leave, but not before she said, only to Andrew’s hearing,

“A mother shouldn’t leave her children to chance, no matter the reason. My children are in need of their mother.”

And she left.

Andrew’s face tightened with anger and disgust. He took a good, long look at the Prophet, and his vex skyrocketed. He clenched his fist in response.

“Andrew!” Someone called him from behind. Lewis stopped moving, and turned to the direction of the voice; so, did her husband.

“Andrew, my name is Huey,” the gentleman said, “You might still not remember me, but I’m a good friend, and you value my opinion.”

Andrew, just looked on, perplexed.

“It’s time to come back home, Andrew. We’ve come to get you.”
Andrew felt slighted. ‘Who was this Huey guy, who thought he could pop up and whisk him away?’ He thought. He further tightened his fist, and rushed towards Huey’s position.

C9

Andrew greeted Huey with his fist, which threw both men off balance. Huey responded almost immediately, with three punches of his own. With Andrew disoriented, it became easier for Huey to pin him to the floor, while Lewis and the others watched helplessly. She begged Huey to stop, but he wouldn’t, because Andrew fought relentlessly to be free of his clasp. This heated exchange continued until Akin appeared. He’d been outside, waiting, for Huey’s return with Andrew behind – as though it was going to be that easy – but since the exercise was taking far longer than anticipated, he wanted to know the reason.

For reasons inexplicable, Akin’s presence caused Andrew to somehow become tranquil. Sensing his new state of calmness, Huey arose from him, bruised, dirty, and unwilling to say a word. Lewis ran to him, regardless of her husband’s command that she go inside, all she wanted was to see Andrew’s pain come to an end. Elias and Glory, with other members of the church’s prayer warriors were the chief spectators of the brawl; they watched with rapt attention, and wondered what would happen next.

“What do you want from him?” Lewis screamed, at Huey. She wanted to know why he would want to hurt a defenseless man who he called his friend.

As Huey walked towards Andrew, he could tell Lewis truly cared for his friend; it was naturally that she’d think him a monster because of his assault on Andrew. He wished things didn’t go the way they did. But, they were necessary if they were to make headway with getting Andrew back to his true family.

“I did not wish to hurt his,” Huey apologized.

“Liar!” She screamed.

“Stop shouting, woman,” Huey interrupted her, “Believe it or not, we’re his family, and we’ve come to take him home,” he said. He was trying hard to convince her they were the good guys.

“That’s another lie. Andrew has no family,” Lewis lambasted.

Prophet interrupted before they’d begin another round of warfare. He said, “You people are desecrating the House of God. You’re committing a grievous sin.”

“What is going on here?” Huey asked, looking around, to no one in particular. It was as though he was in the midst of people who didn’t know the truth about life, the harsh reality of existence. As far as he was concerned, everyone here was a joker. “I wonder who all of you are? Clearly, none of you know the man you’ve been living with these past months.” He fired.

“I hope your God knows the value of money,” Akin cut in. He threw a bulk of cash Prophet’s way, “That’s two hundred thousand naira,” he said.
Prophet’s frown instantly bowed into a smile: one so wide, it nearly tore his face. He beckoned Lewis, his wife, to let go, “Andrew belongs with his family,” he said. He called them ‘the true sons of God.’

Huey stretched his hands towards Andrew, he wanted him to take it, he really wanted his friend back. The person lying on the floor wasn’t Andrew. The person might have his face and voice, but it wasn’t him. ‘There’s more to a person than just the physical body,’ Huey said to himself; he was trying too hard to remain positive over the situation. He wanted to say something to make Andrew happy, something he knew the usual Andrew couldn’t resist, “Anna would be very happy to see you,” he said.

“Anna,” Andrew echoed. The name struck a chord within him. He wondered, saying aloud, why the name sounded so familiar yet distant. Akin and Huey were glad to have finally struck a familiar chord; for unknown reasons, Anna was Andrew’s anchor back, just as the doctor had suggested.
Huey was glad to help answer, to clear Andrew’s doubt. “She was the love of your life,” he said to him.

Lewis heard it, and smiled. “You wasted no time proving me wrong,” She said. Her hands were firmly clenched to his. “Make sure you get it right this time,” Lewis pleaded; after planting a kiss on his forehead, she rose to take her leave.

“What about you?” Andrew asked.

Lewis took a natural pause before she responded, “My fate is sealed in marriage to him,” she said, throwing her sight towards her husband. “I’m happy one of us gets a happy ending,” she added, looking back to Andrew.

“Goodbye, Andrew.”

Andrew drew her back, and warmed her in the comfort of his embrace. He slipped something into her breast-pocket, and calmly said, “This should solve all your problems.”

The drive back to the firm was mostly done in silence. Andrew took the time to better reflect on himself, and what meaning his life held. Drenched in his thoughts without any tangible answer, he started to throw a tantrum. ‘Why does his return to an office hold so much meaning?’ He asked. No one answered him. He'd give anything to remember something from his past; anything at all, no matter how minute.

“We’re here,” Akin announced, as he pulled over at the garage.

Huey turned to Andrew, and said, “It’d be better if you wear this.” He threw him a jacket with a hoodie on: it was best to avoid anyone recognizing Andrew before he gains access to the main building.

Slowly they walked, and soon, they successfully made it into the building. Andrew took off the hoodie and every activity around him instantly froze. Murmurs began to resonate, and soon, a crowd gathered, people wanted to see the man who had died and come back to life. Andrew continued to walk, amidst shaky steps, with the guidance of his father and friend, he successfully arrived the safe haven of his former office, now Abigail’s, his half-sister.

The couple who visited the firm two weeks ago in search of him were present.

“What is this?” Abigail asked her father, willfully avoiding speaking to Andrew. Akin took her outside to pacify her.

“Where have you been?” The man asked Andrew, breaking his fixation on the door Abigail and Akin had walked through.

“I'm sorry,” Andrew apologized, impulsively,

“Where were you?” The wife asked, accompanying her questions were tears heavy enough to drown a person’s speech.

“I was away,”

“But you promised. You said, as long as you lived, nothing was going to happen. You promised!” She lamented further.

“My presence might have made things better, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help as I promised.”

Huey swiftly moved his head; Andrew’s response shocked him. ‘Could this be the real Andrew?’ He thought. Andrew’s statement sounded coherent, it was as though he knew the family.

As soon as the couple left, Huey rushed to Andrew; he wanted to know if his friend was back.

“Talk to me, Andrew. Is that you?”

“Of course, it’s me, who would it be?” Andrew replied.

Huey leapt for joy. It was Andrew. He was back!

“How long have you been there, you bastard?’ Huey asked, excitedly.

“Excuse me?”

Huey paused. He immediately realized he had been ahead of himself thinking it was his Andrew. Whoever the guy before him was, he was a great actor.

“I’m sorry,’ Huey apologized, “It’s just that your performance with the couple was good. It fooled even me,’ he added.

“It wasn’t a performance, I felt bad for them. They’re on the verge of losing a daughter to an abusive man, what type of man would be if I didn’t sympathize with them?”

“Not the Andrew I used to know.”

Andrew paused. He thought hard on what to say, but couldn’t find the right words to use that’ll convey his message perfectly. He wanted to remember, he truly did. He was stuck in childhood memories while the rest of the world had moved on, but if remembering meant he’d fit the monster Huey just described, he wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore.

“What about us? Your family. Your life. Anna?” Huey asked; he was frantic. “Don’t you want to remember us?"

Andrew squeezed his eyes hard. They felt the same way they did moments ago when he dashed the couple's hope, because he knew he wasn't yet himself and could be of no help to them. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

Huey snapped. He kicked against the chair, door, waste-bin, every item his legs could find. He wanted his friend back: the man with whom he humbled the most pompous lawyer in City of Lagos.

Andrew walked out on him; he ran into Abigail at the door. The confrontation was distasteful, as Abigail’s anger against him oozed out her body.
As he wandered the floor, he remained on thoughts of his own – he didn't fully understand the reason for Huey's outburst; he understood how painful it was to not be able to reciprocate the same kind of love received, but it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember anything. He wished he could be brutal. He wished he could be angry. He wished he could pretend to be who they all wanted, But he couldn't. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride freely on them. He could only be who he was now, and everyone needed to start accepting it. This was the new him, Andrew 2.0.

Patricia surfaced from a sharp bend, and ran straight into an Andrew well lost in his thoughts. She was terribly frightened. If Andrew had shown an inkling of recollection of their last encounter, she’d have taken to her heels, but he didn’t, hence, she stayed, and played right into his confusion acting as a damsel in distress.

Andrew on his part, had a flash of memories accompanied by a huge migraine. He called her Anna.

Patricia shook her head in disgust.

Andrew wouldn’t take no for an answer, so, he held her firmly by arms. ‘Are you Anna? Are you her? Tell me. Tell me!” He shouted.

“I’m not Anna, I’m not her,’ Patricia said. She fought her way off his firm grip.
Realizing what he had done, Andrew apologized, but Patricia would have none of that. According to her, Andrew had physically assaulted her, and he best remembers the favor she did him not pressing charges, in the near future. She walked out on him.

Andrew stood there, embarrassed, watching as Patricia walked away purposefully swerving her hips to stir up feelings in him. Huey walked up to him, calling him back to reality. Huey appeared calmer now. He had decided to take a different approach in triggering Andrew’s memories, he was going to make him thirsty for the things he used to love until the old Andrew comes out to play again.

“Would you feel better if I said you've hit that thing many times already?”

“I have?” Andrew responded, shocked. He wasn't sure if to believe Huey's words, but he was happy at the prospect. A wriggly smile formed at the corner of his mouth.

“He's here,” Helen, Patrick’s wife, announced.

As soon as she spoke, she turned her eyes back to the Mercedes that just drove into the compound. Through the window, she admired tits occupants, and watched them hole up at her door.

Patrick wheeled himself into the kitchen where his wife was, he wanted to know why she hadn’t answered the door, which bell had rung six times already. Recalling her senses, Helen dashed for the door.

The August visitor was Barr. James, the man from Tiffany-Janes Chamber, the same chamber that had been bombarding Patrick with various offers to have him on their team; they kept coming with better offers each time, until now, that a big-wig had decided to come by himself.
It was secret, Patrick was flattered, and had actually started considering their offer.

“Let’s talk about respect,” James started, “Your colleagues at Lewis' do not respect you. That’s why none of them has come to visit you yet,’ he said.

“Have you been spying on me?” Patrick cut him. His gaze alternated between his wife and Barr. James.

“I had no need to,” James responded. He threw his sight at Helen, implicating her as his informant.

Patrick was pissed. He was faced with the reality that his wife had been conniving with personnel of Tiffany-Janes’ Chambers all along. He had been in the dark, not knowing his actions have been in tune with the direction his wife wanted.

“Before you say anything,” Helen began.

"It’s okay,” Patrick interrupted her. He turned to James, and said, “I accept.”

Barr. James in turn was shocked, “Excuse me,” he said, he wanted to be sure he heard him correctly.

“I said, I accept. I’ll take the job,” Patrick reiterated, “I’ll see you on Monday to conclude the formalities,” he added.

Barr. James rose, he shook hands with Patrick, gave Helen a nod, and took his leave. Once James had left, Patrick turned his attention to a picture on the wall – it was one that had him, Akin and Andrew smiling – it was taken after a major trial three years ago, when things at the firm were rosy and unpolitical. He had a mug in his hands. He threw the mug at the frame in frustration, as Helen watched. She cringed.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?” Patrick asked, coyly.

“For everything. The lies and deceits. For all of this. For…”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, “It’s mine, for not knowing when to move on.”

He wheeled his seat towards her, and placed his right hand on her chin; he massaged them, just the way she liked it. She in turn, let her tears grease his palm. He room was quiet. They were at peace. They were in love.

C10

Andrew spent the next five days at Huey's trying to piece back his life together. Huey, as a friend, tried his best to return him to the same quality of person he was known to be –the indispensable warrior who’d give everything for a cause he cared for, the man who'd murder orcs before he'd let harm come to the ones he loved. But the truth was, that man was gone for good and, for good, he was never coming back. The best anyone could do was to remodel him into something recognizable – a shadow of his former self.

During the course of their discussion, Andrew had name-dropped Patrick, which caused Huey to momentarily believe his friend was somewhere inside, fighting to be let out, but he knew better now, it was all Andrew’s head trying to remember Anna. Anna was beginning to seem like Andrew's one true love –that kind one can never be fulfilled being apart from– he knew thence reconnecting Anna with Andrew would do the latter so much good, all he had to do was find Anna. That would come after they had finished visiting Patrick.

Helen didn't know what to do to both men standing at her door; these two were supposed to be her husband's friends, or at the very least his professional colleagues; but they were a disappointment, they broke the bro code when they left him his disability, unattended. Patrick had always been the odd one at Lewis Chamber, that was the reason she wanted him to leave; it was time he took charge of his life and put the firm and its occupants behind him. Seeing Huey and Andrew reopened old wounds for him, which she didn’t like; she feared he might reconsider his decision to join Tiffany-Janes, because of his ever-considerate nature.

“He's not in,” she lied to them.

They sighed in disappointment, and turned their backs to leave, but stopped, at Patrick’s timely intervention. He had seen them through the window.

Patrick was happy to see both men. He exhibited a calm too surprising. If there was anything he’d learnt over the last few days it was that, “no one likes a liability” a fact he reechoed to their hearing. He spent the first few weeks whimpering, “why hadn’t anyone come to see me?” He’d ask. But as the days passed and no one showed, the question turned to, “how best can I help myself?” That was his driving force accepting the offer from Barrister James.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Andrew isn’t really himself,” Huey whispered to Patrick, as he helped wheel the chair out, leaving Andrew alone in the sitting room.

“I heard rumors, but I wasn’t sure.”

“It was the blast. It caused him his memories.” Huey handed Patrick a can of water he procured from the fridge.
Patrick took a gulp and said, “I see,” he took a pause and continued, “but he looks normal to me.”

“I’ve been helping him remember people. He’s been getting better at the pretense.”

“I see,” Patrick said again. “It’s alright. I understand better.”

“I’m sorry once again,” Huey apologized; he meant it. “Isn’t there anything I can say to make you stay?”
He shook his head and said, “It’s for the best.”

Anna sauntered into the reception at the ground floor, she removed her sunshade and relaxed the bulb of her weave-on simply by vigorously moving her shoulders. The receptionist greeted her well enough for anyone who cared to know she was a familiar face. Anna had on, a blonde weave, sharp red lipstick, a cream-colored hybrid jacket, and matching red pumps.
Taking another look at her, the receptionist asked, “Are you alright, Anna?”

“I’m fine.” Anna flashed her a smile, and walked away. She got to the office she used to know as Patricia's on the 10th floor. It turned out Patricia had moved up, walked up the ladder to the position of PA to the new CEO – Ms. Abigail Akin. By the time Anna finally found Patricia, the latter's effort to get rid of her in time was futile: the Abigail had already walked in on them.

On realizing that the person before her was the infamous Anna, the girl whose named had plagued the entire firm since she took over, Abigail was furious, she could hardly contain her disgust for ‘the opportunistic bitch who joined her father’s bastard to destroy her family’. As long as she was concerned, Anna wasn’t welcomed in the firm – not while she was CEO!

Special thank you to Azeequeen and Divepen1 for
promoting the fight against plagiarism. I appreciate the effort. The charlatan IjeleNwa isn't affiliated to me in anyway and most definitely isn't me. God bless you both.

IjeleNwa, I must confess, it was weird reading you claim to be me and defending your cheap actions, but I guess that's how it works to better make sense of the path you'd chosen. I recommend you seek out help. You claim to love some writers: I can tell you they didn't become the brands they are today by being plagiarists. I hope this advice meets you well.

PS: A good thing did come out of reading this though, I've decided to finish up the last book of Cracked Sources ASAP. �. CC: @OyinPrince

Talius:
Special thank you to Azeequeen and Divepen1 for
promoting the fight against plagiarism. I appreciate the effort. The charlatan IjeleNwa isn't affiliated to me in anyway and most definitely isn't me. God bless you both.

IjeleNwa, I must confess, it was weird reading you claim to be me and defending your cheap actions, but I guess that's how it works to better make sense of the path you'd chosen. I recommend you seek out help. You claim to love some writers: I can tell you they didn't become the brands they are today by being plagiarists. I hope this advice meets you well.

PS: A good thing did come out of reading this though, I've decided to finish up the last book of Cracked Sources ASAP. �. CC: @OyinPrince

my instict tells me that you are lying somehow,you created the ijelenwa account just to promote your works and again that ijelenwa moniker wrote 2 chapters totally different from yours,and again,he debunked the allegation that he is not an impersonator but he created the account. To promote his works, and again you conspired all this things to promote and gain readers and also check the security level of nairalanders concerning your works.

Nice work talius but I can authoritatively put it to you that you are "Ijelenwa"

I love you strategy! (And that ijelenwa account was created december lastyear,I smell A rat)