CHAPTER 4: THE DAY I BECAME THE VILLAIN

The call ended. I dropped my phone and plugged it into the power bank. Still remain seated Waiting for them. Silence reigned. The only sound was the soft whistle of the evening breeze and the gentle rustling of the grass beyond the fence. I could literally hear the sound of my breath. My eyes moved from one corner to another. From the well to the sheet of paper dancing in the air like a restless bird. Above, in the sky, the moon hung, surrounded by millions of stars. Together, they illuminate the earth. It seemed like a day that even if a pin fell to the ground, you wouldn't need torchlight to find it. “Ola, how far now?” a neighbour greeted, as he hurried out. “My bro, I dey fine o.” Suddenly my phone screen displayed, accompanied by a loud sound that buzzed through the silence. My heart froze a bit. I looked at the screen. “Uncle Lasun” showed on it I hesitated……. Then, I picked “Hello, sir.” “Hello,” he replied softly. “How are you?” “I am fine, sir” He cleared his throat, “Your brother told me everything but I want to hear your own side.” “The issue is that…..” Before I could finish my sentence the gate creaked open. I paused. Someone had arrived. I lifted my head. Then, they entered. Not the police. But, three tall men. Behind them were Zainab, Aishat and her. “That's him,” Zainab said, pointing at me “Deal with him,” Aisha added. Without saying a word, the men charged toward me like hungry lions that see prey. “I will call you back, sir,” I said quickly. The call ended. They kept moving toward me. Heads up, their eyes were fixed on me. Their faces became clear, as they moved closer. Their eyes were red like embers. Lips were stained from years of smoking. Their timbre-land matched forward like soldiers on the parade ground and the earth trembled beneath their feet. Maybe they expected me to panic. Perhaps they expected me to run. But I didn't. Not because I could defeat them. And Yes! Their looks were intimidating, but I didn't flinch. My heart was as hard as stone I don't know where the courage emerged from. Perhaps because growing up, I had been involved in more street fights that I didn't care to recall. Back then ,I had my own squad with which we often caused unrest within the neighbourhood that they gave me a nickname “Ota ìbon,” meaning “BULLET” Not because I was the strongest but because of my unique trait which was similar to that of “BULLET.” Once I stood my ground, I hardly backed down. I thought I had left that version of myself behind. Yet as those men approached, I could feel that old instinct knocking again. I smiled, “Wow! These are your reinforcement.” TO BE CONTINUED……..

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