Revenge: A Story By Wilson Ezama (contd)

Thanks so much guys for your concern and great words of encouragement, I’m back fully now. Love you all real big.

 

Read up the first part of this story here

The room they were belonged to his 9 years old daughter, Ann. She had been gone for three years and the room was intact. He chose to hold his prisoner here so he could revel in his fondest memories before he did what had to be done. The Man on the floor was beginning to recover consciousness as John slipped in to his thoughts, reliving every moment that had led to this point.

 

Ann and her mother were abducted three years ago by unknown men. John waited for the ransom demands for days. He was the CEO of a high profiled company; he was capable of paying any fee to secure the freedom of his beloved wife and daughter. Days went by and no one made contact to claim responsibility or to demand for a ransom. Tension grew in the family as no one dared to think the worst. John couldn’t go to work, and he didn’t care for food. All he wanted was to have his wife and daughter back.

revenge

 

It had been 23 days when officers from the police force arrived at the house with news. The bodies of his wife and daughter had been found in drainage at a remote part of the city, and he was required to follow the officers back to the scene for identification.

 

On arrival, there were a few people who had gathered despite how gory the scene was. There were two female bodies; one older and the other, a child. They both had been terribly mutilated and were missing body parts. John was staring at the corpse of his beloved wife and daughter.

 

The burial arrangements were made and their remains were led to rest amidst tears and wailing. The police continued with their investigation which wasn’t making any progress. John continued in a perpetual state of pain, consumed by his loss. He had relinquished his position in the company as he wasn’t in the proper state of mind to handle the affairs of the company. He drank so he could sleep, and when he woke, he drank to stay awake.

 

For weeks, he had a bottle for a companion; his parents visited every day so did his wife’s parents. He blamed himself, he was the husband; the head of the family. It was his job to protect them and he failed. And the presence of Oma’s parents made it worse. How could they still be visiting? How could they tell him to take heart? He was the reason their daughter and granddaughter were dead. Why weren’t they angry with him as he was angry with himself?

 

Months went by and the police investigation came up barren. They had arrested a few low lives but nothing brought them closer to his wife’s killer. Soon the case would be abandoned due to inadequate skills and resources. The officers knew it, John knew it. But someone had to pay. John began going out of the house again. His family was happy but his love for the bottle was unwavering. He treaded dangerous hoods and kept late nights and in all his outings, he never visited the company.

 

What more could these rascals care for other than money? He had money and he bought himself a few conversations that led him in the direction of men who had the skills and resources to find anyone, anywhere. He found them a few days later, and made a deal with the devil, to capture and deliver but not to kill.

 

His prisoner had regained consciousness. His shirt torn, blood stained, pink patches of skin and confused eyes. The devil had delivered; John spotted a devilish smirk as he gently cocked the loaded gun. He pointed the gun upwards and the bound man’s eyes followed. There was a noose hanging from the hook where the ceiling fan should have been.

“That’s for you,” John said.

 

Alara Karis

I’m Alara Karis, a writer and blogger who simply loves living each day at a time. Some call me a nerd, some call me a professor. But if you ask me, I’ll simply say I’m an artist who enjoys painting the world in words.

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