HOW I BECAME A STONE COLD KILLER

This is a story of friendship, displayed loyalty and revenge. Two guys and a girl, a cult ruled by a child, filled with ruthless gentlemen who only thirst for blood…
It was on a cold Sunday morning when I was invited to “The Cave”, it was a normal day filled with sweat and torture, I had seen Lucy and Dave on two different occasions that morning, I was angered by the way they were treated, tortured, and I kept blaming myself for their mishap. They were both stubborn, so they were always locked in far apart cages prior to their labor. I was the gentle one among us three but I was the warrior. 

On the night I was captured, I had taken down 7 men, and was about to do more but then I saw the Master, he was but a child, I had compassion, I became weak, that’s when they took my right eye. When they threatened to kill Lucy and Dave my resistance mellowed and I was brought to my feet, the ultimate defeat, well so they thought.

When I arrived The Cave it was filled to the brim as usual, filled with hate and blood thirsty cowards. I was brought to the fore front where sentimental judgements were made. I had challenged the Master to a duet (a fight to death), countless times and was turned down almost always, but on that day, my request was finally granted as his followers started to doubt his ability to be courageous.

To get to the master I had to bring down his two best protectors, they might have thought so well about themselves because they couldn’t believe it when I had them on their knees and to an early grave in less than a minute. There was no escaping this, I wanted the master and I had earned it…

A week before this day, I had noticed that they kept poisoning my food. The food was in poor taste and look so I noticed the black deadly chilies. I had expected this earlier so I was already prepared, I always saved fruits in my crotch and ate them even when they were almost rotten on days I was starved, so it was easy to pretend I was eating their poison. I was already wondering when they would kill me before I brought their master to his feet. They knew I was a threat so why were they keeping me alive. I had denounced my loyalty to the group a long time ago and I was certain of my decision. I’m sure they wanted to use me as a weapon because they saw my rage and dreaded it.

The master was brought to his feet in less than two minutes and was begging for his life. I couldn’t risk it again, this was the revenge I had sought for a long time, this was what would free my best friends, Lucy and Dave, this was my freedom, so I took it. 

As soon as I took his life, I started to see how barbaric I had become, I was now the enemy I dreaded, because I wasn’t satisfied I wanted to take more lives, i was becoming the monster I had hated, but I felt relieved, as I stood over his corpse With my eyes closed, I started to recount every step I had taken in my life that brought me to this very point, the path I had chosen, the path to destruction and hatred. 
This is how it all began…
This is a work of fiction and exaggerated experiences. I wish to continue this story if only I have an audience. I promise you that it will be worth your time. All I need is an approval from you and the story will be posted…

4 comments

  1. […] “Be careful what you commit to” those are the only words I keep at heart and stick to because it was that of a dying father who had quite a lot of experience in both the good and the bad. At death he was a mechanic, but before then he was a dismissed soldier in the Nigerian army. He was only a boy at age 18 when he joined the Nigerian army in 1960 and as much as I want to tell how and why he did that, I can’t, because my father was a reserved man, he never told us anything. My father had three wives and I’m the only surviving son of the third, my mother. We lost my elder brother and best friend in an accident when my father had taken him on a journey to where he never revealed to us. My step siblings and their mothers had left my father as soon as he lost his job as a soldier, because according to our eldest mother, they didn’t feel safe living outside the barracks. So they got married to other soldiers to maintain their status as wives of soldiers. Only my mother had followed my dad to his then frustrating life, because she was clearly in love. I grew up in the sleazy area of Ajegunle in Lagos state Nigeria, where I was exposed to the true nature of a suffering class citizen. My mother was the wife of a dismissed soldier who cared only about himself and how he would get drunk and visit brothels from time to time with the little money he got from extortion. Yes! My dad was an armed robber, and a brutal one, I once watched him take the life of an innocent man who recognized him in a bus robbery I was forced to partake in; I was there only to hold his bag. My father trusted nobody, so he robbed alone, except for days he deduced money would be much, and his only partner was a little boy (me), he usually paid me after an operation with him to keep my mouth sealed. It was our Neighbour Baba Segun he killed. I remember Baba Segun had traveled to Ibadan a neighboring state to seal a deal with a coca-cola company to transport their beverages to Lagos. I can’t remember why and how but I remember Segun telling me about the reason for his travel. I had to deal with the trauma of watching a man beg for his life with tears as a child, and plus my father threatened to kill me if I ever told anyone, and that got me thinking; maybe this is how my elder brother died, because despite the fact that we were told he was involved in an accident, we never saw his corpse. I never revealed the death of Baba Segun to anyone because I wanted to live. Growing up in Ajegunle gave me insight to all drug deals; their seasons, customers, effect and it’s worth when law enforcement caught up with you. This insight only made me careful, not scared cos I needed the money to take care of a now divorced mother, or should I say driven away mother. My father caught my mother in bed with one of his old time pals, uncle James who was still in the army at the time, and although she was wrong, I don’t blame her. The fight caused my father his right toes. When the fight got serious uncle James shot my father on the leg; which turned out to be a great thing, cos I remember my dad became a mechanic after he recovered from that incident until his death. My dad tried winning my mother back so many times, he had even gotten my Aunt, Aunty Suzy (my mothers elder sister) to convince her when he was changed, but she blatantly refused. I tried so much not to get caught because I knew what that would have done to my mother. I was only 13 when I started selling narcotics and because people knew my father in the area I was never harassed. Following our dismissal from the barracks I had dropped out of secondary school while in Jss1, but now my mother had gathered up money and felt it was time to take me back into the line of success. Little did she know that this was going to be the birth of my so called journey… […]

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