A flickering light bulb struggled to cast its glim glow on the people in the dark room, and the stench of sweat, blood, burning flesh and urine made the already too small room hard to breathe in. Mr. David, the cleaner, was bound to the one metal chair in the room, shivering, bleeding from every visible surface of his body, and visibly struggling to breathe.
My Den of Secrets
Posted by FemmeFaçade in My Life on July 31, 2012
He’s freaking out for real…
…and it’s scaring me.
Let me tell you guys what happened yesterday.
So, he walked into my room late last night, locked the room behind him and made me wrap my legs around him, sitting on the bed. I stared at him as he moved to open the buttons on my gown, lust and disgust playing tug-of-war with my body. I knew the moment his tongue flicked over the crest of my left nipple that lust had won. F*ck being pregnant, I wanted him to touch me, to taste me, to make me feel the fire and the fever that only his touch could give. I made to rip his shirt off him, but he held a hand up for me to stop.
“It’s just you tonight. Let me pleasure you.” He murmured as he released my legs and took off my underwear. Dudeeeeeeee, my eyes rolled back when I felt the heat of his tongue and mouth. I burned volcano-hot when he sucked and put my pillow on my face to muffle my moans. He’d definitely gotten better since the last time we tried head.
But something was off. Both his hands were on my tummy and it felt like he wanted to push the baby out of me. I felt something tube-like shove at my vagina. And I felt his tears. I jolted upright and pulled my gown up and I looked at him. There was something, I can quite place, in his eyes. Kinda like a mix of fear, anger and something dreadfully cold.
I told him to leave and he started to shake, violently. He pulled the silver tube to my face and screamed that I had wasted the abortion capsule he’d spent his entire allowance to get.
“I won’t let you ruin my future with this rubbish.” He spat out, flinging the tube into my bin. “If this gets out and you try to tell anyone I did it, I’ll slit your throat…” he traced a line around my throat. “…and your belly.” Then he traced another down my tummy. I stared at him in shock as he wiped the tears that were on his face and stormed out of my room.
I was numb. He had turned volcano to ice in minutes.
And somehow in the back of my mind I know he wasn’t playing.
I need to talk to someone soon, but until then I’ll keep it quiet.
I should’ve told mummy sooner.
I’m scared as hell.
A flickering light bulb struggled to cast its glim glow on the people in the dark room, and the stench of sweat, blood, burning flesh and urine made the already too small room hard to breathe in. Mr. David, the cleaner, was bound to the one metal chair in the room, shivering, bleeding from every visible surface of his body, and visibly struggling to breathe. A dirty iron smoked in a corner of the room, the smell of burnt flesh heavy from it. David’s eyes were blood red and mucus ran freely from his nostrils. A whip cracked against his back, and a feeble scream ripped itself out of his soul and through his mouth.
“Oga please, stop.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, as he glanced up at inspector Tunji
“Ah oga, please, please, I confess. Na me. Na me o. Please, please, Na me kill dat girl. Abeg please oga. Forgive me. Na devil handwork for my life. Please Ahnn! Oga please!”
Tunji smirked and signaled to the other two policemen in the room. “Take him back to the cell.”
“Finally, some results!” The IG’s laughter boomed in the miniscule office and his stomach bounced behind his desk. “You see, Mustapha?! This is how an investigation is done!”
Mustapha shook his head “Sir, how certain are we that this man did it? I mean, he’s a cleaner. How did he do it? When? Why? The timeline is not clear.”
“Does it matter? He has confessed to doing it!”
“I highly doubt he knew what he was saying. He can barely speak. Besides sir, have you ever witnessed one of Inspector Tunji’s interrogations?”
Tunji growled at Mustapha, his towering form vibrating with anger “Are you questioning my methods?”
“Not at all” Mustapha sighed “I’m just trying to make sure we aren’t letting an innocent person suffer for another’s crime just to close a case and placate this chief.”
“If I were you, I’d be more worried about my lack of efficiency as a law enforcer and spend less time casting aspersions on a fellow officer’s methods.” Tunji retorted, facing Mustapha squarely.
“Enough!” The IG rubbed his temples when he “Mustapha, you had ample time to close this case. If that was truly your concern, you would have done so. There will be a query in your file. As far as I’m concerned, this case is closed. We have a confession and our killer. I’m calling the Odukoyas.”
“But sir I have…” Mustapha tried to protest
“Dismissed.” The IG cut him off and picked up his cellphone.
“Hey darling, is everything okay?”
Mosun smiled into the mouthpiece, relishing the love she felt shared and felt every time she spoke to him, even over the phone. The rich, deep timbre of his voice made her heart warm and her toes curl. It was always a vast contrast to the cold distance, anger and just pure lack of concern in her husband’s. “Everything’s fine. Great, even.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, indeed.” She was doing all she could to stop herself from jumping up and down in the supermarket where she was standing “I just got off the phone with the IG in charge of Sola’s case. He says they’ve caught the bastard.”
“That’s great news, Mosun.”
“It is! I mean, there are still a lot of questions I want answered, but at least they have him now, right?”
“It definitely is. I’m actually on my way to see your husband now about that issue we discussed. He insisted. We’ll talk more about this after the funeral tomorrow, okay?”
“Alright darling; Let me sort out a few more things.”
“I love you, Mosun.”
Her heart pounded so loudly and rapidly against her chest, she was worried the man standing not too far down the aisle could hear it. Amazing how those words, coming from the right person, could still do that.
Chief Odukoya was waiting in front of the house for the driver to bring his car around when Yinka pulled up and got out of the car. It would seem Sola’s death had hit his son harder than the rest of them. He was hardly ever home anymore, more self-involved and detached, and just acting unnaturally. “Yinka,” he called as his son approached him. “Where are you coming from?”
“Friend’s place” Yinka shrugged.
“You’ve been very distant these past few days. Are you okay?”
“Well, I hope you’re ready to travel to school in two weeks. I just got a mail from my travel agent saying he’s booked your ticket.”
“Look here, young man,” Chief started, agitated “moping around is not going to bring Sola back. You better man up and focus on Harvard. This family has an image to keep up.”
Yinka chuckled “It’s always about the image, isn’t it?”
“Look, just leave me alone.” Yinka pushed past his father and headed towards the door.
“Are you mad? Come, if you’re looking to be alone, you’re in the wrong family, you hear?!” Chief called, watching as his only son snorted a laugh and shut the door behind him. He shook his head. Yinka needed to snap out of it. Harvard medical school cost a lot of money.
Kareem sat in the Odukoyas’ living room, taking in the elegance of the space: from the sheer lace curtains to the plush carpeting, the porcelain pieces that filled the shelves, to the sculptures and tasteful art lining the walls. What caught his attention mostly were the family portraits that documented the lives of the family that occupied the house over the years. He smiled at how similar they were to those at his own family home – Fake smiles plastered on every face, eyes hiding secrets and distance – an image of a perfect family to the inexperienced eye. He focused on the latest picture with Sola in it, and found himself overwhelmed with an incredible feeling of grief. He’d never had the pleasure of meeting her, and Bisola rarely talked about anyone besides herself, but from the way her toothy grin reached her eyes, he just knew the world had lost a treasure.
Bisola came strutting back into the sitting room, grinning ear to ear, plopped herself right on to his laps, and interrupted his thoughts. “Guess who that was.” she chirped, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Who was it, hun?” Kareem volunteered, his hands going round her waist, pulling her even closer.
“My mum! Turns out they’ve caught the guy who killed Sola.”
“Wow! That’s great news, B! Who was it?”
“A cleaner at her school, apparently.” She giggled at the confused look on Kareem’s face “I know! I was like ‘WTF’ too.”
“Did he say anything? Like why he did it?”
Bisola kissed his neck “They say he is one of those dirty rapist pedophiles that likes young girls and that she refused him, can you imagine! But I doubt that any of that matters right now. They’ve caught him; it’ll all unfold as the days go by. I know my Dad will finish his life. I’m just happy they’ve found him.”
His grip tightened on her waist.
“I kinda need something to unwind with, like a stress release med…” In an instant, Kareem flipped her on her back and kissed her feverishly. She tore her lips away from his in an attempt to reclaim the breath the kiss stole. “I was going to say medium and suggest we go out, but this…” her eyes widened as his went dark with yearning. “…this isn’t a bad idea either.” She sighed as Kareem sent a burning trail of kisses down and across her exposed skin. There was something different about the way he touched her now. There was the little flame his soft lips and caresses ignited, but it burned hotter with need and something akin to desperation. She jerked when his hand started up her skirt. “Wait!”
Kareem froze and stared at her, a blank expression on his face “What’s wrong?” his heart was beating madly in his chest. He had watched her all afternoon, walking around in that silk beige skirt that made her body look like a half-wrapped piece of chocolate; chocolate he couldn’t wait to eat.
“What do you mean? Aren’t you always the one that was stressing how important it is to you to wait until marriage? That your family would refuse anyone that was not a virgin?” She made to shove him off the couch.
Chuckling, Kareem planted more kisses on her neck “That doesn’t really matter anymore, sweetie. I love you.” His hand slipped under her skirt again, casting feather-like circles on the insides of her right thigh with his thumb. “I want you beyond expressions, but it’s really up to you. I’m ready if you are.”
Butterflies ran amok in Bisola’s stomach and she blushed. “I guess we might need to go upstairs, then.” He came off the couch and helped her up. When they were both standing, she looked at him intently for a few minutes and planted a kiss on his chin. As they started up the stairs, her phone rang. She looked at the screen: Dr. Leishman, Re-virg. Surgeon came up on her screen and in Kareem’s line of vision. Her mouth went dry.
“Who’s that honey? Pick it up before it goes dead.” he said, hitting the accept button on her phone before she could say anything. He watched as she shooed the surgeon away, promising to call back and fix an appointment later in the day. When she finally looked at him, her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Kareem, I… I… I have something I need to tell you.” Bisola stuttered. She made to unlink her arm from his, but he held it firmly. “Bisola, what’s wrong? Are you going to have surgery? Are you sick? Talk to me, please.” He implored.
“What I’m going to talk about may destroy everything there is between us, but I think it’s only right that you know.” She said, leading him to her bedroom. After locking the door behind him, she sat on one of her lush sofas. One nervous glance later, she started talking, keeping her eyes fixed on anything that wasn’t his face.
“So, the surgeon I was talking to is an expert at re-virgination surgery…” her eyes shot up to meet his, the instant she heard his huge sigh of relief. Then he burst into chuckles.
“What’s funny?” she asked, mildly irritated that he was amused. He walked over to the sofa and gathered her in his arms.
“You would go through all that trouble and money, just to pass the wedding night test? Honestly, B, there are other, less life-threatening ways to prove your “virginity” to my folks.” He nibbled on her earlobe, grateful for the stab of desire her scent sent coursing through his blood.
“How else could I do it? Stop trying to distract me Kareem, I’m serious.” She tried to push him away, and failed.
“No one will be in our bedroom when we make love on our wedding night. There is the traditional consummation rite, where I would have to break your hymen with a finger tied with a handkerchief. This will also happen in the privacy of my room, with our mothers as witnesses. That might be a huge problem.” He saw her eyes widen with fear and burst out laughing.
“B, the bed chambers are curtained. I can easily slide in a little bag of blood and pour it around the insides of your thighs. Your mother will help clean you up, while I go to my mother and show her the kerchief. It’s not even an issue.” He kissed her cheek.
“I do, however, admire the fact that you would go under the knife for me. A stupidly brave thing to do, but I’m touched.”
“Look at me.” He commanded, turning her face to meet his.
“I love you, Bisola Odukoya. You’re beautiful and lively and unbelievably hot; and I want to make love to you more than I want to have this hilarious re-virgination conversation.” Kareem murmured the last words in hers as his lips claimed hers hungrily.
“Kareem, will it really be okay?” she asked, her eyes searching for the final answer in his, before falling into the violent tides of pleasure.
For the first time in her life, sex felt like coming home to Bisola. And she reveled in the sheer beauty of Kareem’s love.
For Chidera, it was one of those days when he felt things were finally falling into place. Travelling down memory lane and mentally reliving all the conversations he and Sola had taken a toll on him emotionally, but, as hard as it had been, being able to remember all that time spent together and thoughts shared had proved more than helpful when he really needed a breakthrough. In this case, he found a password.
The fresh calm, of finally being able to know the truth, was evident on his face when he joined his mother in the kitchen. She looked at her first son for a good long minute and sighed. She hadn’t seen him look like his usual, cheerful self since his best friend died, and the hint of a smile on his face was enough comfort for her. She smiled as he opened the fridge and took out a bottle of coke. “Nwa m, I take it you heard the news?”
Chidera raised an eyebrow at his mother. ”What news is this, mummy?”
“Ahn Ahn, didn’t you hear? They caught Sola’s killer; it was on the news this afternoon.”
“You can’t be serious.” He said, his face an image of utter bewilderment
“I thought you’d heard. Isn’t that why your mood’s better?” she stopped chopping the Nchianwu she needed to make pottage, and stared at her son.
“Who did they say killed her, mummy?” He remembered the incident with the police the last time he went to school, and hoped it wasn’t…
“One of the clean…”
“You have got to be freaking kidding me.” Chidera mumbled, cutting his already perplexed-looking mother midsentence and he left the kitchen and made for the sitting room. He found the previously discarded contact card, took out his phone and dialed Inspector Mustapha. “Oga inspector, we need to talk.” He spat into the phone as soon as the inspector picked up, and hung up before he said anything.
He had not noticed his mother coming to the living room. She heaved a sad sigh as she watched her son’s expression become grim once again. When would he ever truly smile again? Somehow she knew, whatever it was with Sola’s case, it wasn’t over yet.
HOUSE ON THE ROCK
You can read all episodes of HOUSE ON THE ROCK HERE