Sarah walked into her flat, turned the light on, saw him and dropped all in her hands. Gripped by fear, she trembled. He didn’t move. He sat relaxed on her sofa as if he didn’t notice her.
His legs were on her centre table with a glass of wine in hand and a cigarette in the other. He sipped the wine and glanced silently at her. Her eyes moved to the table and scanned its contents. There was one other wine glass, a pack of cigarette, a lighter and a pistol.
She stooped, her eyes glued on him and picked her items from the floor, kept them on the side stool. and stood there waiting for him to say or do something.
“Welcome Sarah” he said. “I’ve been waiting for a long time now,” he said wearing a smile. He seemed cocky.
“Who are you?” she asked and he brought his legs down, reached for the pack of cigarette and lit another stick. She walked closer, still tensed.
All her thought centred on how to tackle him. He had a huge frame and a deadly attitude. He could be a serial killer who had been assigned to assassinate her.
“Come and sit with me.” He said. His voice coarse and cold.
“Who are you? What do you want from me?” She asked, her voice trembling.
“One question at a time my lady. I only have one mouth as you can see,” he said and gave a vicious sporadic grin.
She kept quiet as he picked his pistol and dropped the burnt cigarette stick on the hairy white centre mat, looked it for a while before crushing it with his boot.
“Sit down, we need to talk. Your life depends on the outcome of our discussion.”
He led her to a sofa, drew a stool and sat opposite her, too close. He reached for the wine and the wine glass and served her.
She shook her head.
“Take it. It will make you feel better.”
She was afraid he could poison her and she didn’t want to die that way.
“She took it from him, sipped a little and held the glass to watch herself for any strange feeling.”
“Drink more.” He said and with trembling hands, she began to drink.
He laughed wickedly. She thought he actually poisoned the wine by now.
“I can read your mind. You’re thinking you’re going to die after drinking that,” he said and laughed.
“I won’t kill you before our discussion. Don’t worry.”
She kept the empty glass.
He poured another one.
“Now, who is Mark Adams to you?”
She looked at him sharply with horror written in her eyes. What did he want with his boss of six years? A decent, kind-hearted man in his late fifties. Mr. Adams had been the only gracious boss she had ever worked with since she started working twelve years ago
“As you try to remember, let’s do something different.” He stood up, trolled rhythmically to the music set.
She looked at the gun on the table, looked at him, looked at the gun again and rushed to it.
She had not handled a gun before. Had been scared of guns all her life but had to muster all the courage she could and pick it, held it with both hands, her right index finger over the trigger, ready to press.
“Your hands on your head,” she demanded courageously and he turned to face him.
“Oh that! Oops! There is no bullet in that one. Sorry.” he grinned, “but there is in this one, ” he said and pointed at his jacket. Sarah went limp and watched him bring out a similar but silver-coloured pistol from the inner pocket of his casual jacked.
“I like your guts though. I like strong girls. Now that I know you have the heart of a killer, I find you valuable,” he said and went back to the Music set. Pressed play and a track by Ron Kenoly, “Welcome Home” began to play.
“Nah Nah Nah! Can’t dance to this hogwash! Don’t you have any good music around this beautiful flat of yours?” He asked and slot in another CD,
“This is much much better. Not my kind of music but better than that garbage.” He said and took a few dancing steps towards where she stood. He took the pistol from her and dropped it on the sofa.
“Dance, Sarah, dance. This music is wasting.”
She began to dance and he grinned.
To be continued…..
This is a short story of 3000 words. It is to be posted in five parts. See you next Tuesday for continuation. Have a great day.
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I'm a food scientist who has chosen the path of creative writing- the one thing which comes to me naturally.
Back in 2013, my love for teaching young learners propelled me into picking teaching as a career. I taught English, Maths and Science in the United Arab Emirates where I lived for ten years. Right now, I live in Coal City, a beautiful hilly area of my country Nigeria.
My website Fiez-writer is a product of my extreme desire to share my writing with the world. Here, I share fiction, poems, thoughts and writing tips.
A huge part of my life is spent with my lovely family and I'm a proud mother to three brilliant kids.