“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
