“Death is cheap, it only takes a bullet”. So you heard.
Treading the tiled floor barefoot, you walked your way past the kitchen door where you left your last dinner untouched. Your feet glided past the bedroom and you caught a glimpse of the cradle you bought. It was empty and you remembered why.
You eventually got to your destination, it was the old store room where all your antiques were dumped and forgotten. It took a little effort before the stuck door could give way and when it did, the stench that oozed out almost suffocate you. Series of cough burst out as you tried to purge the offensive odor out of your system. After taking a few breath of fresh air, your lung was cleared and this time you ventured into the abandoned store cupping your left hand over your nose. You didn’t have to rummage through the piles of junks for long, you found it. The big wooden box where you forced the few properties you inherited from your late military father. The moment you lifted it’s lid, dozens of cockroaches swarmed out causing you to retract a few paces. You return to the box and began rifling through until you found what you were looking for. It was wrapped in a dirty piece of rag, your father’s service pistol, the one you kept for an emergency.
The dark colored colt revolver was glimmering as it lay on the flesh of your palm. In contrast with its ancient history, the death dealer stood firm like it had came out of factory yesterday. You pulled the ejector rod as your father taught you and the bullet chamber came out. Inside you counted three bullets which you knew would be more than enough. Setting the bullets in the right place, you closed the chamber.
Hot tears dropped as you stared down the gun’s barrel, a narrow path to the great beyond. Your heart weighed a thousand kilo as you held the weapon in your hand. You knew what to do with it, just haven’t summon the needed courage to proceed.
“Don’t waste any more time, do what you have to do.” A voice whispered into your ears. The gun trembled in your hand as you seek out the strength to lift it high.
“You know this is the only way to see your family again.” The voice mumbled. You remembered the accident, how could you not? After all, it was your doing. The failed break of your car didn’t just happened, Pascal your mechanic had advised you to change it long ago but because the car was still operational, you decided to manage it and with time, you forgot about the fault. Enraged by pain, you lifted the gun up to your head.
“That’s it, now put this nightmare to an end.”The voice implored.
Your index finger curled around the trigger but fear of the afterlife stopped you from pulling it. The image of a fiercely burning fire appeared on your mind and you shuddered at the thought of roasting in hell. Slowly you lower the gun and wept bitterly at your cowardice.
“Oluwadamilare, you are nothing but a coward and selfish bastard. What have you ever done to benefit anyone other than yourself? You have always been a plague, destroying anyone you come across. Starting with your father who you rendered hypertensive when you stole his gratuity and ran to Abuja. For years you thought about going back home to seek his forgiveness but wasn’t it until you heard of his demise that you set foot in your home town? Mr Martin, the man who mentored and nurtured you till you become successful, didn’t you leave him to his fate as he battled cancer until death end came for him? Do you remember what happened to the guy who was running against you at the post of Managing director in your company? People thought it was some random thieves who broke into his home but you knew better. He would never get out of a wheel chair thanks to the goons you hired who pushed him from the stairs. What about Michael your younger brother who lost a fortune in a bad business he invested heavily in? You knew the business was going to falter at the onset but refused to warn him, simply because you feel threatened by his progress. Your wife wallowed in shame for years, while the fault of your fruitless marriage lie on your low sperm count. At your instruction, the doctor lied that everything was alright, you couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving because you knew you did nothing to deserve her. You should have been grateful when the miracle came but you never could stop being you. Stella told you she wasn’t feeling fine and had wanted to stay back at home but you insisted on her attending the party, just because you wanted to show off her pregnancy. Even when she told you to reduce your acceleration, didn’t you yell at her to keep quiet? It was when a trailer came out of the blue, that you remembered the break wasn’t there to help. What were you able to do when you woke up and saw her impaled by a shrapnel? Wasn’t your name the last thing she said before giving up the ghost?” The voice accused.
The gory image of how you watched your wife bled to death played in your memory. The agony was too much for you to bear. Without a second hesitation, you brought up the gun and pulled its trigger.
“Kpa !” The weapon mocked you. In the same instance, Daniel your best friend came in and found out what you were trying to do. He got the revolver out of your grasp and ushered you out of the house. As you sat at the bar listening to his sermon, you wondered how precious your life would be to him if he realize you have been sleeping with his wife.
Written by Oluwafunminiyi Komolafe