A POISONED CHALICE (EPISODE 7)

I have killed her. I have killed the love of my life. This was not the plan. This was not what I had expected. All my dreams have evaporated like last night’s rain. What will I do? Where will I run to? God I have failed.

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_{pixabay: Geralt}

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I looked about the room and shook my head. I drew another drag of the weed and let the smoke blur the scene and cripple my brain. I stretched my legs and counted my toes. I could hear music blasting on the headphones wrapped around my ears, so I didn’t hear the knock, the cock of the guns, the screams and then my door burst forward in splinters.

Some splinters rained on me, piercing my skin. My roach fell from my hand as I tried to dodge the bits of wood. I could care less about the carpet getting burnt by the still smoldering roach because the stout mouth of a sawed off shotgun stared at me like I was peering into a well. My shoulders dropped. I was tired of running anyhow. I raised my chin as the tap of shoes tiptoed into the room. As Ahmed’s face came into view, a shadow flicked on my side and pain creased my face as something blunt ran into me. Darkness descended like a blanket and I lost time.

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I woke up wet. I tried to shake my head but the pain was too much to take. I closed my eyes and let the pain throb like a trembling flame in my skull. Another onslaught of water pouring all over me, jerked me up and I tried to stare through the water but everything hurt. The light was too much. All the shapes in front of me were blurry and I could not make head or tail of what I was seeing.

Someone asked a question but I could not make out the words. I tried to stand up but I felt restrains on my arms, my chest and my legs. I was going nowhere. I fell to my side and mercifully, darkness descended again.

I woke up again and this time the pain had receded a bit. It was like a thought in the back of my mind. I didn’t try to raise my head though. I just left my head bowed down; I was too tired to raise it up. I tensed my muscles and felt the restraints still holding me to the chair. I sighed softly and then I heard a chair scrape.

“You are awake now?” a voice said.

I remained silent but I heard someone walk away from me and then a knock on a door. The door opened and I heard footsteps walk into the room.

“Obinna are you comfortable?” Ahmed asked.

I raised my head slowly and studied his face. There was this curious light in his eyes that I could not identify. He picked a chair and placed it before me then he sat down.

“You know everything was just as I expected until the gunshot. I thought about it that day then when I went to get Fatima’s body ready for burial, do you know what I found out?” he asked me.

I stared at him, curiosity eating inside me but I didn’t want to give him the benefit of not knowing anything so I kept silent.

“You don’t want to ask me, right? Well let me save your pride the stress. I went to her family house and I was told that they can’t find her body.” He said.

“What!” I yelled, surprise overshadowing my suspicions.

“Exactly! What happened to the body of a woman shot at pointblank range? Someone we saw bleed right in front of us? At first I thought it was a ploy by you but you ran too far and too hard for it to make sense and seeing your face now, I realize that you do not even know what is going on.” He added.

“Her body was stolen?” I asked.

“It would be so except for one detail. The crack den you took her to, the crack dealer you plotted with, the addicts that filled the house, every one of them has disappeared. The crack den is still there but the owner and the addicts claim not to have met or seen any of the persons I described. In fact, no one can remember a woman in a hijab taken into a hidden room. No one even remembers an altercation in front of the house. It is as if it never happened. When my men asked around, do you know what they got? No one in the neighborhood knew the crack dealer that you dealt with yet they knew the crack dealer that owned the place. Do you get what I am trying to say here?”Ahmed said.

“Fatima’s death was staged? You were set up?” I asked, confused.

“No Obinna. You and I were set up. We have been casted in a movie and we are playing the roles giving to us but we do not know the script or the director. I can tell you that we are not main characters in this.”

I shook my head then grunted as the pain hit me. Who would go to this extent to get Fatima’s body? Who would plan such an elaborate plot? It has to be someone that knows the history between the three of us.

“This thing will be organized by someone that knew the three of us from the past.” I said.

Ahmed laughed harshly and stood up. He looked at me sadly.

“Who knows the three of us the most? You and I didn’t contact much but Fatima knows both of us really well.” He said.

“what are saying? Knows? You think she is still alive? Fatima would not do such to me. No she wont.” I said with all the assurance I could muster.

“One last thing as you romanticize on Fatima. The gun you used had only blanks. Who gave you the gun?” he asked as he turned and walked to the door.

“I do not believe this. Fatima would not plot such trickery. She loved me! You destroyed our lives! You should have said no and let her alone!” I screamed at his back.

He stopped with his hand on the door knob then he turned to look at me. In his eyes I saw the broken heart that he tried to hide.

“You are a fool, Obinna. Fatima didn’t give a fuck about the two of us. If you ever see her again, run as far as possible from her. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. My men will release you, you are free to go. Don’t come looking for me ever.” He said then the door opened and he disappeared into the gloom.

I sat in stupor as the ropes were loosened from my body. Fatima could not have done this to our love. She could not have plotted such wickedness. No.

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Stay Tuned For Episode 8

Episode 1
Episode 2
Episode 3
Episode 4
Episode 5
Episode 6

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©warpedpoetic, 2018.