I sit in a corner of my room,still and
almost breathless,my head buried in between my thighs,my expressions blank,lips swollen and eyelid blackened by repeated contacts with an unforgiving fist,my face and skin starved of colour,barring the whitish ‘watermark’ of drying tears,my thoughts turbid,choked with mud wishing only that I could reach into myself and yank out the memory of what had just happened;that of my transient journey through hell…
I wanted to call someone so badly,I needed someone to talk to;someone to share in my grief and take this burden,the size of the world off of my chest,but I couldn’t,no one came to mind,not my overly dramatic mum,nor the grouchy bloke I had for a dad,nor my lovely but fragile baby sister Mope,no one;not a single soul. Even if someone did come to mind,dialing the number would have been too difficult;a herculean task at best,like a toddler trying to mount a giant chair,now…its too late. “No one can talk me out of this now, I have my mind all made up”, I said to myself. I have called up all of my energy,my thoughts now morbid and all I can think of is MURDER!!! Cold,brutal murder,that of this 6ft 2inch band of flesh,muscles and blood;this monster that has hurt me so badly.
I had gone to his house to clean as usual,I work as an housekeeper and as is customary(at least of him) after cleaning most part of the house he would stare at me continuously before asking me to go upstairs to do a couple of things in his room,which ranged from the stupid of picking up his socks and pants to the ridiculous of ridding his duvet of loose thread and wool,who does that?
So that morning when he asked me to go up the stairs to his room,I wasn’t at all bothered but I noticed something sinister in his eyes;something totally different in the way he looked at me and slurred his words,I was taken aback but then again there was always something weird about this man,this queer,awkward looking man who lived alone in a house big enough to house me and every member of my extended family. I hurried up the stairs and headed straight to the somber and dimly-lit compartment which served as his bedroom and dump,I did everything in a hurry;picked his pants and socks up,took out the loose threads and wools atop his duvet and was laying his bed when his humongous frame appeared,he stood just at the entrance,eagle-eyed watching me closely like a lines-man in the round leather game of football,I,in turn breezed through laying the bed and headed towards the door to exit the room when he grabbed me,lifted me;legs in the air with such athletic deftness and dropped me on the bed,spread my legs wide apart,pinned them down with his knees in order to get his pant and mine down,I could only scream,punch and slap,tame shots which were followed by a flurry of his,heavy and numbing,shots which landed on my chin,lips and eyes,it made me see stars;a galaxy of them,I was stunned only to be awakened by the pounding of my private part and the cold,sickening pain that swept through my body,I could feel him deep inside of me,very deep.!!When he’s had his fill,he leaped off of me with equal deftness,walked towards the door bare-bottomed,looked at me,with disgust in his eyes,eyes wide,merciless and unflinching and said “Get out,you dog,and I mean now.” I felt used and abused,I was infact used and abused . I got into my clothes as quickly as possible,still crying,scurried and scampered down the stairs and down the road too,how I got home I cannot tell.
This man who has hurt me bad,I must equally hurt him where it hurts. I must kill him,only that will serve as adequate consolation;as only blood could quench the gargantuan blood thirst of a vampire,only the death of Mr Kurt could mollify and appease me,even
the law is of no use to me now because I am taking it into my hands. What would the police do to him?Charge him to court maybe,that won’t be enough reproof for him,that’s not enough consolation for me either .I do not want to see him rot in jail,I only want him to die…by my hands.
So I plan,I strategise on how to go about taking his life. I considered axing him into shreds,’matcheting’ and severing him limb after limb or just stabbing him in d heart,after serious consideration I figured I might not get close enough to take his life with the knife without getting killed myself so I settled for guns,I’d get a gun,it will be easy,I could take him out from a metre away.
The next morning,I went to my father’s house stole his hunting gun,drove his Peugeot 504;which will be needed to flee the crime scene,and headed straight to Mr Kurt’s house,it was noiseless as usual but for the melodious tune of Al Green’s ‘tears in heaven’ pouring out of a stereo,I walked right in,my gun neatly tucked behind my back in my boubou,I headed up the stairs,it felt as though I climbed a mountain,my legs became heavy,I was covered in sweat and developing cold feet but I mounted the stairs all the same and went straight to his bedroom,gun in hand ready to blast away…Then I saw the still,motionless bloodied body of Mr Kurt,he was dead,dead as a wood,he must have had about 5bullets pumped into him,I stood there,shell-shocked,dumb-founded…till something in my head told me to run;as fast as my legs could carry me,I ran almost leaving behind my gun,I jumped into the car which was parked just outside Mr Kurt’s compound and drove as fast as I could. Someone else had killed him,probably another girl he had raped ,or one more aggrieved than I am because it was murder not suicide.
I got to my parents’,parked the car carelessly and returned father’s gun to the safety of his wardrobe where it could do no harm. I managed to get out of my parents’ without anyone noticing my presence,returned to my house and sobbed,I wanted Mr Kurt dead but not that way. I had killed him with my thoughts,I am a murderer,I have killed him with my thoughts…