I hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful Sunday too...
Her heart nearly popped off her chest as she saw the front door opening, slowly.
Seeing Elijah stumbling in, limply, she exhaled. He was overly drunk. "C'mon! This is too bright, man, argh!" He winced painfully at the harsh light in the lounge. A hand glued over his shrunk eyes. A halve of his shirt was untucked, so were her shirt buttons. The clock ticked at three-fifteen.
A few steps in, Elijah tripped over his own feet and nearly fell to the ground, but he managed to grab the edge of the sofa, and slumped, heavily over it. Seeing him in that state, Abella breathed a slight sigh of relief.
Elijah tried to lift himself up, but failed. His head lolled against the top of the sofa.
She dragged herself and went on to help him over. "Hmmm." Elijah sighed, trying to snuggle against the side of the sofa. "Phaaanks, baybee. I-don't kno-w whuat I'll do with-out youuu..."
Abella was busy aligning his heavy body safely on the sofa.
"I'm phired!" Blurted Elijah, drunkenly. "I'm Phuucking phired! F-I-R-E-D! I don't know how much longer I can phuucking last before I…."
Whatever he muttered afterwards was known only to himself. He was gone.
Abella gave a ghostly sigh. She waited until she heard him snoring heavily, then quietly she pulled herself away, scanned the room for the last moment, hoping against hope. In despair, Abella got to the kitchen, pulled out a bottle of wine and took her perplexed mind to the bedroom.
She rolled out of bed, glancing at a wall clock; it was ten-to-six. A bottle of wine had stoned her sorry-mind out for an hour and a half. But apart from a horrible wine breath and a mild headache, Abella didn't feel much of a hungover.
Gently, she walked towards the bathroom without waking Elijah, who was in a noisy sleep. How did he manage to get in here? Abella wondered, staring at her snorting husband.
Fired! Did he say he was fired? She wondered, glancing at the clock again, then back at him before she pushed the door.
Halfway through the processes, Abella heard a thunderous knock on the door. "Hey! Hey! Quick! Come and see this!" It was an urgent voice of Elijah. He sounded sober. She nearly collapsed. Oh my God, the photos! The video! She grabbed the towel, braced herself before opening the door and stepped to the bedroom.
Standing in front of a TV set, Elijah had his cellphone on one hand, and a remote control on the other. His eyes were frozen dead as he watched that news program.
Laid on a Police Land Rover's trunk, was a bloodied human body wrapped in khanga. According to one witness, a passerby who happened to be the first to see the body that he claimed had been sprawled across the trench, along Mandela road at External area; it seemed that "Whoever killed this man had no thievery intention. There were thirty thousand shillings in his wallet, together with his employee identity card. But his eyes were chopped off; his heart was ripped off his chest and thrust inside his mouth. And he was actually castrated… Well, actually all his genitals are missing!" Concluded the witness; a man of mid-fifties, to an eager, female TV reporter.
The ID card found inside the deceased-uniform's pocket showed that the man was actually Shaaban Khamis, a Security guard with TK Security Company.
"Oh my God, Shaaban!" Abella felt like her head was about to blow apart. And where are the…? Her body trembled and was reduced to tears; tears of frustration.
"Who killed him? And why?" Her mind working a hundred times more than normal, Abella heard feebly of the questions Elijah asked over the phone, to the personnel from TK Security whose call had awoken him from his sleep earlier that morning, breaking that shocking news. Can I go ahead and tell him of the photos...the video...the anonymous I'm supposed to meet today?
No, you shouldn't...
Yes, you should...
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