The Silence Within

Chapter 68

I apologise for not updating for a very long time. I can't remember how long either. I have been so busy and writer's block has been dealing with me mercilessly. It took me so long to write this chapter, over two months. This is the worst writer's block for me. I tried hard to make this chapter nice. Read at your own risk. It is a little bit cliche though even though I don't want it to be. I don't know how else i should have written it. Hopefully, it would be different in the next edition.

His feet slithered outwards on the slippery ground as he rounded the corner into another narrow path. The shock of the slip caused him to grasp unto the rough wall which incited tiny cuts into his palm. He winced to the pain. With the same speed he had tripped, he got back to his shaking feet. Tired legs kissed the wet ground as he raced. His heart beats hastily, each beat resonated in his ears. Every part of him felt numb not when his chubby body could hardly lift him. From time to time, he glanced over his shoulder as though he was running away from someone. He had to run, had to be away from them before they got him. His past deeds had caught up with him and this time, their repercussion was death.

He dragged his feet, feeling like the air in his lungs will leave him soon. Tired, he took the rough concrete wall of a house as a support to hold his sagging exhausted body. It was late into the night and the moon was the only source of light for the quiet earth. The silence was eerie. It was the kind that gave away the feeling of death and danger. His next step sank his leg into a puddle of stagnant water. He took the left turn glad he was about to get to the road where a car awaits him.

He had made a plan when he knew he had been caught. He had to leave the country. No place in the country was save for him because Jagaban, that devil, rules everywhere. A choking smell from a garbage at the backyard of one of the rickety houses filled his lungs. He gagged, slamming his thick hand over his nose as he stumbled out of the narrow path into gravelled road.

He saw the car on the other side of the street and with a sigh of relieve he crossed. It was too late when he saw the car speeding toward him. The hit was hard, sending his body high in the air, over the car, unto the floor. He jerked, blood spilling from his mouth while every part of him began to go numb from pain. Even though his hearing was like a bursted speaker, he heard the crunching of tyres against the gravelled road that receded into nothing and through his fading vision, he saw the bright headlight of a car. Doors opened then closed. Coming closer to him were confident footsteps from different directions. He raised his head up with difficulty, his body trembling. Through his heavy lids, he saw him. The tall confident frame and unhurried steps. His heart jumped to his throat despite the irregular beat. Jagaban! His head and every sense of his sang out the dreadful name, a name many feared. The kind of name that gives anyone freezing chills.

"Playing hide and seek, aren't we?" Jagaban spoke, his voice soft.

The man tried to speak but no word came out of his bleeding mouth. Jagaban's eyes glinted with pleasure. He was clean and spotless in his casual appearance with an aloof and thoughtful air around him making him seem more dangerous.

"For how long? Hm?" Jagaban tilted his head a bit with a mocking smirk. "It's over now, Dennis. Tell my popsy say I dey greet am." The sharp metal that appeared from the pocket of Jagaban's shorts glistened in the shaft of moonlight. Dennis' eyes widened. He tried to rise and speak but jerked like a car that ran out of fuel. The knife dived effortlessly through soft flesh, leaving a clean cut that ran deeper than the eyes could see. Thick red liquid gushed from it, giving way for more to rush from Dennis' bloodied lips. He stood, waited and watched until Dennis took his last breath. It was then he turned on his expensive soles and headed to the waiting car.

Jagaban snatched the rag from his right hand man, Alabama, to wipe the blood that drenched his hands. He wore a frown of displeasure and hid an unspoken anger beneath it.