MY KILLER

CHAPTER 8

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" I screamed as I slowly fell on my feet still looking at my baby.

Slowly she fell, to the ground, with her blood and head tissues following suit, but slower. The blood flowed to the dusty ground and my eyes watched it as it flowed to the ground under his feet. The other bastard was there, I could see his feet. My screams had attracted a crowd of people and that was when he came.

I looked up at Oga Mohammed in tears. I was speechless. As soon as he sighted Yusuf, he punched him in the face and Yusuf fell backwards. He looked at him adjusted himself before he walked away. He didn't want the gossip to go around that he beat up his right hand man because of a woman, a whore.
Yusuf watched him go before massaging his punched face slightly. Then he walked up to where I was and slapped me. I didn't bulge at the slap, I didn't even feel it, I was too used to it. He straightened himself up thereafter and turned his back on me and I sighted it; his gun. He took two steps before I sprang up and with the energy and speed I didn't know was there, I rushed to him and skillfully stole his gun from its side stash and before he turned, the gun was pointed straight at him.

He smiled "Do you even know how to use it?" He asked.

"It may surprise you if you learned of the things I can do."

"Nobody can learn how to shoot without my Knowledge."

"People sleep at night," I said.

"You cannot shoot..." and I shot him. I hated it when people told me what I could and could not do, besides, there was no need to prolong the discussion, his death was long over due.

But alas, he didn't die, for I had missed the shot. That was what brought about my ages of imprisonment. It was when I set out in my journey to Arabia did I truly know how long I had been there; ten months. It was unbelievable. In total, I had been kidnapped for two whole years and none of these times was without its own different hell.

The fact that I missed that shot hunted me. How could I? I was so close, so very close. But I compensated myself with the fact that at least, the bullet got to his hand and that I left a scar with him, something he would remember me by. I promised myself that if ever I was given another opportunity, the gunshot would not stop at one, at least five was moderate enough, I wouldn't miss five times, at least, one of the bullets would be fatal enough to cause death. I will just have to find a way to practice my use of gun like I did with Aisha.

Only very few people who had earned the trust of Oga Mohammed or Yusuf were allowed to learn the use of guns. Those few joined the terrorists as one of them, and were usually initiated which left most of them dead or severely injured. Still, many people who had come to accept their fate prayed to be one of them. Joining them was better than being killed by them, terrorism was better than suicide bombing; for those that didn't believe in the seventy virgins bull crap.

It wasn't a choice for us, the both of us were not trustworthy and so, we learned in secret, at night time.
At first, I was reluctant until she convinced me. Aisha had more zeal and fire burning in her for revenge. She wanted to kill the bastards so much more than I who just wanted to escape or die trying, then anyway.
I decided to learn for the fun of it. If I were caught, my death could come faster and I would take the blame for Aisha. It was a good gamble. It was an appetizing gamble. And I went for it.

Aisha knew the basics. She had learned by watching others do it and watching Yusuf teach the new recruits. I learned with her, but instead of bullets, we would use stones or nothing at all, so as not to attract attention. Aisha had everything sorted out.

"Take one leg backwards a bit," she would say. "Relax your shoulders, look straight at the target and not the gun, imagine killing the person. Take a deep breath. Then, release."