Hope y’all are doing fine??
Anticipate on Sunday 13th October;
Without further ado, I present to you:
Tears of joy streamed down Bolu’s face, as he stared at her body laying lifeless in her own pool of blood. On his knees, he dropped the blood stained dagger he had used on her a while ago.
He put the back of his palm to his nose, smelling the blood that had stained it, just before he licked her blood off the back of his palm. Tasty, bliss, the metallic taste of her blood was thrilling, he could stay there all day, just to smell the enjoyable fragrance of blood.
If he had known of the pleasure this would bring, he would have done it long ago. His Hands trembled in excitement, and his body grew weak, as if the bottled up anger and pain from all these years had been his strength.
The woman who had only been a source or torment, torture, abuse…. (Call it any negative name you want) was now dead, by his own hands.
The woman who should have been a figure of Joy and respect, but was responsible for his pain and suffering, was gone, courtesy him, Boluwatife Omobolaji Evans and all he could feel was pure joy, without regrets, not even the tiniest bit….
Bolu had his first taste of the forbidden fruit, as a twelve year old Lad. The “druggie” (as he had regularly referred to her in his head) was his first. She had called him into his room and ordered him to undress.
He obeyed without complain, he could not refuse his mom. If he had dared to, she would have beaten him senseless and eventually had her way. She made him lie on the not so tidy bed, She picked up the ropes he had sighted earlier when he came in and tied his hands and legs to the four corners of the student-sized bed.
She immediately undid the bath robe that decently covered her sex starved body. She climbed the bed and knelt between his wide open thighs, taking his ‘thing’ in her mouth, she teased and sucked till it grew bigger and harder.
Bolu felt like a goat in a slaughter house, his body felt pleasure, but his mind was in pain. He was terrified that his mother would do this, he knew it was wrong, but if he as much as said anything it would only land him a couple of thunderous slaps. Tears flowed down his eyes to his ears, as he watched his mother change positions while riding him.
Bolu had a bigger frame than most of his mates, he was going to be tall and muscular, just like his late father, at least that was what relatives always said anytime they saw him. (You know the way yoruba people are now) His father had died in an accident when he was just two, so all he could remember of his late dad were pictures he had seen while growing up.
At fifteen, Bolu had begun to have his own sexual escapades with the 22 year old house girl. He had a knack for older women, and was a pro in his own right in the art of seduction. His mom did a great job of coaching him in bed, just as she made his life miserable.
She had moved from tying him up, to instructing him to do the dirty work. Anytime he failed to totally satisfy her, she would resort to the initial rope system. She acted like his girlfriend even in public, but people just put it off as love from a mother to her only son.
He often wondered what kind of conscience she had, anytime she shouted hallelujah loud in church. Everyone thought highly of her and always respected her. Are people even blind? How could people not even notice that he wasn’t happy?
Couldn’t they see sign that she was on drugs? He despised her, but he had to give it to her, she was a good actress. Besides the abuse and torture, she always fed him well, and always made sure he had his three square meals and at nowhere besides home.
“You need to eat well” She would say, “so you can be a real man for me”. He lived in fear and dread, as any mention of his name could mean a call to duty.
By the time Bolu officially entered into adulthood, his mother had employed and fired over fifty house helps (maybe not up to that, but Damn! She changed them more often than she changed her toothbrush).
She fired them once she suspected closeness to Bolu. Mrs Evans had become too possessive of Bolu over the years and had made sure nothing ensued between he and other girls.
She enrolled him in a secondary school only a few streets away from home, and gave him an ultimatum of ten minutes to get home. Any time she saw him talking to any girl by chance, she embarrassed the girls, thereby making sure they stayed away from Bolu. She could not imagine sharing her son and lover with anyone else.
Bolu stared into the mirror at himself holding the shiny dagger that looked so sharp, it would cut through effortlessly. It had taken almost a year to get Olamide to talk to him. He truly loved her and was willing to go any length for her, even though she was two years younger.
His interest in her despite her age had convinced him that he was in love. It took a lot more effort to convince her to go on a date with him.
The day set for the date had come, he had to sneak out of the house which he had never done for fear of his mother’s wrath. He didn’t care if she caught him just so he could be with the only person that truly made him smile.
He felt a strong connection as they got along pretty well. Just as they were coming out at the end of their date, “druggie” suddenly appeared from nowhere. Instantly, he felt his stomach tighten, he was in fear- not fear for himself, but fear for Olamide.
His fears were true as his Mrs Evans immediately pounced on light skinned Olamide and began to beat her. Bolu tried to save Ola, but his mother got up, and kicked him in the groin;
“You! Abo wa ba loro e” She said as she returned beating Olamide
“stupid girl, you want to spoil my son’s life… I will not let you”
She kept repeating as she beat Olamide. It took the intervention of four full grown and well built men, to get mrs Evans off. Olamide was rushed to the hospital, she had become unconscious. Bolu followed the rescue team to the clinic to make sure Ola was alright.
When he got the report that his Ola barely escaped death (due to her asthmatic condition) from the doctor, he stormed out of the clinic and went straight home fuming with anger, he was ready to fight this woman, no matter what it took him.
But the anger transformed into fear as the moment he got to the gate, he stopped in his tracks. He wasn’t sure what punishment she would have waiting for him. “Damn her and her punishment” he muttered under his breath as he pushed the gate open and charged for the door.
She wasn’t home or she would have been in the sitting room, Waiting to devour him as usual. He went straight to his room, climbed over the bed to reach the book shelf that stood beside the bed.
He ransacked the second floor of the shelf, pouring and scattering his books, till he finally found what he was looking for. The dagger he had neatly wrapped and kept away from his mother.
He unwrapped it as he moved towards the mirror, he twisted and turned it carefully examining the sharp edge and pointed tip. He couldn’t swallow anymore shit from that woman who parades her self as his mother.
She had done a lot of things he was willing to endure, but this time she had pulled the straw that broke his camel’s back.
Wasn’t she contented with the abuse and torture she had always meted out to him? No one could hurt Ola and get away with it, especially not her.
He had had enough of her and would take no more Crap! Just then he heard the door to his room open behind him, and knowing it was his mother, he turned to face her while hiding the dagger behind him.
She walked in looking drugged up as usual.
“Why do you have to put me through this all the time?” She said walking towards him with the pestle she had picked up from the kitchen…
“I told you I’ll share you with no other person. I would not let you leave like your father did, No. Not while I’m alive”.
She said all these with tear streaming down her face; ” I love you son…”
Her voice growing louder with every word.
“but you always make me hurt you as you never listen.”
Bolu just stared at in disgust as he concluded that she was unbalanced upstairs.
“Is it because you don’t love me too?”
Normally, Bolu would have responded with a resounding No. But this time he just stared at her with hatred, disgust… In his eyes.
“Or don’t you love me?
She repeated this time screaming, bolu still did not budge.
“Aaaaarrrrrrggghhhhh” She screamed as she launched forward to pounce on Bolu, but was met halfway with a kick on the chest from Bolu’s long and strong legs.
She flew back hitting her against the door (like in one of those action movies… You know now!). Bolu saw his chance and rushed forward sitting on her before she could make any move.
With all the anger and strength that was in him, he stabbed her, multiple times, aiming for her heart only. Not minding that blood was splashing all over him he kept stabbing till he could not feel her moving anymore.
He felt lighter, like a burden had just been lifted off his shoulder. His shackles have been broken, he was finally free. Free from fear, abuse, torture, torment…
Though the wounds run deep, and the scars would remain, happiness could not describe what he felt…. She was gone, and he was free.
“This new found freedom won’t be taken for granted” Bolu murmured under his breath as he walked away, at midnight, from the bungalow that had served as torture room for as long as he could remember.
“I’ll make the most of it, I’ll Defend the defenceless” anger rising in him as he thought of other people who suffer even worse fates than he did.
But damn the law, the law would be too slow and considerate. He was going to be the judge in such cases, his dagger as his gavel, he’ll sentence them to eternal damnation.
They’ll get what they deserve, and the children would be happy once again, he thought, as he reached for his the pocket of his coat, to feel his precious dagger. He was born again, a Judge in his own right, a serial killer…
With Sugary Love…