A POISONED CHALICE (EPISODE 3)

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I watched him watch me. I could see that he was troubled by what I had just told him. I think he was more concerned about Fatima being in a crack den than my demand that I go there alone. He got up and walked out of the room. The two shadows followed him out and I had the bolt strike home. I was locked in.

I immediately tested my body; I could raise my hands but my ribs still hurt as hell when I inhaled. I turned to the side and slowly I raised myself to a kneeling position then I started crawling towards the flash of colour I had noticed early on. Luckily for me, some wooden boxes had been arranged close to the opening. I struggled on top of them, wincing as my bruised ribs rubbed against my flesh. Soon I was on the topmost box. I stood on shaky legs and stared at the opening.

It was a small window but the window pane was shattered and the sharp edges of glass were still stuck to the edges of the opening. I peered through and I suddenly knew where I was. There is an old church that was burnt during a religious crisis several years ago. Kids go there to play sometimes but it is mostly inhabited by druggies, the mentally unstable, robbers, kidnappers and other social outcasts. It was a dangerous place.

I turned and sat on the crate, my mind swirling with suspicions and ideas. How did Ahmed get access to a room in such a place? I had always suspected that he had carried his father’s business beyond legal boundaries and now dabbled in some shady businesses. This could be a confirmation of my thoughts. I looked around the room and noticed other boxes arranged at the far corner. I stood back up and studied the opening. It was too small to let someone of my size through. There was no way I was getting out through that way. I turned back to study the boxes. I might as well learn something of my very good friend, Ahmed.

I climbed down from the boxes and studied them. They had no marks on them to identify the contents within and they were sealed tight. I needed a crowbar to open it or something strong enough to do the job. I slowly made my way around the room searching for any tool but I found nothing. As I stood pondering on a way to get the boxes open, the bolt on the door screeched and the door opened.

Ahmed walked in and stood staring at me. He didn’t seem angry or surprised to see me on my feet. The two men entered after him and each of them stood beside him.

“You will go alone as you said but I will be watching you. Do not think to play a smart one on me Obinna. I see the way you look at me and I know you think me a buffoon but I can assure you that if you test my mettle, you will find me capable. Now go get me my wife.” He said.

I smiled and walked towards him. I had managed to escape his clutches. I was free. I came out of the room and saw that the room was one of five others with doors locked in a dark corridor. As I walked past the doors I heard a whimper; a woman was crying inside one of the rooms. I turned back to look at Ahmed. He cocked his head and opened his palms,

“What was I supposed to do? You think what was mine so I took what was yours.”He replied.

I believe my shock spread across my face because he chuckled and motioned me forward.

“Who?” I asked, my voice shaking with fear.

“Who else, my smart friend; who else?” he asked, his face bland.

“No! She has nothing to do with this, Ahmed! You fool! She has nothing to do with this! Let her out and I will get you Fatima I promise!” I yelled, realizing who he had in his grasp.

“She became a part of this when you stole my wife from me. You didn’t think I was going to sit back quietly and let you run away with my wife, did you? Did you think up this plan thoroughly?” he asked; his voice soft in the darkness.

“Gods, she has nothing to do with this. She is sick you fool! She has cancer and has barely two months to live.” I said, my eyes staring at the door from where the whimpering was coming from.

“I am aware of that and she will get proper care. I am not a brute, despite what you may think of me.” he replied.

I turned away from the door to stare at him. There was nothing behind his eyes, no emotion. I felt drained, empty. All my planning and the idiot had the brilliant idea to kidnap my mother, my dying mother. I felt sick.

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INTERLUDE

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Mirror on the wall,
See me in my nakedness,
My skin filled with sores and sorrow,
See my eyes, empty, hope receding,
Life fading, light dimming.
Stretch a digit to my face,
Scratch my beard,
Tell me I am beautiful.

Mirror on the wall,
See my soul flailing
Before the void that seeks
To swallow and regurgitate me,
A shadow, a stain on some carpet.
See my lips open in a scream,
A yawn, bored cynical natter.

Mirror on the wall,
Tell me, if you may,
Who is the darkest of them all?
My heart is broken, my skin is black,
My soul is damned and I am lost
In this sack cloth and the ashes
That dust my bald skull.
Am I he?

Mirror on the wall,
Turn away from me,
Hide your truths and visions.
Leave me my hopes and demons,
The cavities in my chest,
The eczema on my chin,
The scars on my knees;
Leave me my identity,
I plead.

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Stay Tuned For Episode 4

Episode 1
Episode 2

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©warpedpoetic, 2018.