Harrowed Fate.

EPISODE 02: Depths of Despair.

 His brows furrowed in seething rage, causing distinct ridges to form across his forehead as he moves  menacingly toward her.

"You offspring of a viper! You have colluded with the witch you call a mother to kill me, eh? Give me that, you little devil!” He roared through widened, bloodshot eyes, grabbing her violently by the arm – same one that had the knife but she holds firmly onto it, screaming into the stillness of the night as loudly as her lungs permitted, in protest. 

“No! “

“I said, give it!” He yells again, now beating her wrist with the base of his palm to weaken her hold on the cutlery, his right hand still rigidly wrapped around her arm. She grimaces as a result of the chafing and tries to adjust her grip but despite his inebriated state -- his strength overwhelmed hers and that attempt was tamely foiled. A solitary tear rolled down her puffy eyes, she felt defeated and began to loosen her hold.

“Leave her alone, Francis!” the mother called, springing to her feet as she holds Tolu’s hand in place. 

Perhaps, it was the fear of the fate that lay ahead in the aftermath of him recovering the knife that buoyed her with the strength to intervene or  perhaps the surrender she saw in Tolu’s eyes that afforded her that burst of energy, as her head still throbbed and her lips also swollen, battered. Whichever it was, she knew she could not just sit and nurse her woes.

“Let her go. You’re hurting her…you are hurting her, Francis. Let her go!” Her voice trembling as she now clasps both her hands on his tightened grip of Tolu, vigorously tugging at it. He responds by nudging her to the ground with his right elbow, momentarily releasing his hold on Tolu’s wrist, the pubescent juvenile staggers but quickly regains balance. Seeing he was half way to triumph, he sways back towards the girl with a determined countenance but was stopped short by a startling series of knocks.

“Oga Francis, it’s your neighbor, John…Please, open the door.”

“Yes..? What do you want?!” His coarse voice rang with resentful venom from within. “Anyone else but John,” he mutely reverberated.

“Is Madam Lola alright?” John asked, without the hope of any response.

Realizing that help was just inches away; Lola summoned all the bulk of her diminishing strength and threw herself against the door, creating an audible thump in a bid to force it open. Immediately, he pushes her away from the door in exasperation but his proximity to the door causes him to hear indistinct murmurs outside and there, he realized John was not alone; the upheaval and chaos that had continued for close to an hour must have alarmed the neighbors and prompted an upset.  What business of theirs is this? He thought. 

“Francis, open this door!” He recognizes the voice to be the landlord’s and after a pensive pause, he hesitantly obliges. The door comes away and the living room like the montage of a tragic play was in full view to the small crowd. There they all were, his neighbors. He knew he had to salvage what fragmented jots of his dignity that remained, so he shuffles through the doorway, outside into the moonlit night where all had gathered in disgruntled pockets, then stops, and as if a man  from whom a legion of demons had just been exorcised, he raises his eyes to meet theirs in a bid to lay their concerns to rest, only to find horror plainly written on all their faces, it seemed exaggerated a demeanor for his actions, besides, it would not be the first time this has happened. He knows they despise him but certainly not terrified. Why do they look aghast? He pondered, moving closer to observe their demeanors more clearly in the overcast. Just then he noticed, they were not looking at him but further behind. With an air of urgency, John rushes into the living room and the landlord hurriedly follows behind. In a daze, he turns swiftly around…

“Tolu!!” He shrieked, rushing back inside.

She was lying still on the floor, her eyes shut and from her diaphragm, through the sopped black vest she had on, oozed a heavy trail of blood, trickling down from where she lay. Her head slightly raised in her mother’s laps, who cradles it as she inconsolably weeps.

 “You killed her…you killed my angel, you got what you wanted; now she’s dead. My baby’s dead.” Her voice quivering with resigned sadness as the words numbly fell from her lips, her face; pale and emotionless, flooded with rivulets of sobs coursing down her face.  He slumps to his knees beside the teen’s frail body, struggling to fathom what had happened. “What have I done?” he muttered repeatedly, utterly crippled with shock at the insufferable sight of his daughter’s body sprawled limp in her own blood. 

“What have I done?” He echoes burying his face in his hands. His poison possessed mind, starting to gain coherence but he remained lost in the devastation of what had occurred. A few more of the neighbors had come in, exasperated by the spate of the incident, they had begun a deliberation.

“You should be arrested and jailed, you don’t deserve what you have” One complained.

“Let’s not delve into conclusions; do we really know what happened?” Another opined.

It had happened all too fast. As he let go of his firm hold on Tolu to fend off Lola, he had abruptly upset the equilibrium of the trio’s combined grip, causing Tolu’s opposing force to work to her disadvantage as her arm jerked unexpectedly toward her torso, thrusting in the knife she held. Neither of both remaining parties saw what had transpired, Just then her father had been distracted by the knock and her mother was only just recovering from another assault with her back turned. It was all over in a twinkle, the instrument culpable of the gruesome deed lying harmless by her side.

“Francis, we need to get this girl to the hospital, quickly!” The grey-haired homeowner retorted, having felt a pulse. John clasped his hands on the inches wide cut to stop further bloodletting. The man to whom the statement was referred remained mute, horrified by the scene he beheld. 

“Francis!” The landlord barked. He did not wait for a reply this term, as calls for the hospital were beginning to gain momentum in the crowd. He picks up the gravely wounded adolescent and with the help of John, they carried her; shoulder and feet to the former’s car with Lola briskly trailing them. She had just a wrap cloth on, one of the women from the crowd had run to swathe her shoulders with a striped shirt, the tears still ran loosely from her eyes, her youngest son clutched to her bosom, her lips still bloodied and her head still ached, but none of that pain could measure to a fraction of the grief that has her heart in the deep throes of torment. She got to the car and handed the boy to John, who was already seated in the passenger seat. She crept in behind as fast she could manage, into the backseat, Tolu was laid there. She raised the unconscious girl’s head, to make room for herself to seat, then cushioned it on her lap, after which she subsequently collects the padded cloth that had been held in place over the stab wound by the landlord to prevent any more blood loss. 

Having being relieved of that task, the latter quickly got in the driver’s seat, shut the door and turned the ignition key, the car revved. She raises her head to get a glance at the electronic clock elevated on the dashboard, 3a.m! It’s been two hours of a horrendous nightmare and it isn’t over yet; she sighed for strength.  The car made its way out of the compound and was soon on the major road to the hospital. All the way, she never took her eyes off Tolu, whispering prayers as her hand kept pressure on the wound and at other intervals she would appeal to Tolu’s subconscious;

“Fight for me, Tolu…please princess, fight for me.” She would plead then break into sobs.

Watch this space for the next episode.