11:08pm

Your father had still not returned, despite the fact he left around 5:30am.

You had concluded that if the clock struck 11:30pm you would turn in for the night, after all, he opened the gates by himself and didn't come in through the front door, your waiting for his return wasn't really necessary, but you still did it anyway.

You were half asleep on the couch when you heard the sound of the gates being slid open (your father had sacked your gate man), you would have gone to help him open the gate but the last time you did, he slapped you so hard your ears began to bleed, he said doing things like that for him made him feel old and handicapped, and he wasn't any of that.

You heard the sound of his car driving In and then the sound of the gate being slid back, all that remained was for him to walk over to the back of the house, and then you would retire for the night, your father didn't bother using the front door because his room was at the other side of the house and the back door was the fastest way to get there, your house was massive, almost a mansion.

You still lay on the couch and only when you heard him twisting the door knob to the front door did you spring up from the couch and rush towards the door, your heart pounding against your rib cage, your father only came in through the front door when...

"Jesus!, Please help me." You heard someone cry frantically as your father let himself in forcefully, pushing you against the wall, he had brought company, just as you thought.

The ante room, which was the first room after the front door, was dark so you couldn't see who he had brought, but something about the voice told you it was a girl, which was strange because your father has never brought back a girl.

"Osita come and see this abominable creature." He stated in disgust as he dragged her into the living room and only then, in the light of the living room did you see the person's face clearly, you were right, it was a girl.

She was very fair, not the bleaching skin fair but naturally fair, she was on a white blouse which now had blood stains (perhaps from the cuts on her face and neck) and a blue jean which were also shredded in visible areas, probably from unfruitful struggling.

She had fixed artificial nails, cream color, which now had a good number broken, blood sipping out of it, you looked at your father's face and saw nail scratches and stale blood, you almost laughed, did she really think scratching your father will make him burge?

"This girl here, this stupid girl here, wanted to steal my..." He paused and slapped her," my phone." He completed slapping her again, and she let out a muffled scream.

You didn't say a word, you Just looked back at her, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty, bloody face, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Disgusting, very disgusting." You spat bitterly, your face twisting into a frown, and your heart fluttered as your father smiled at you with pride tucked away in his eyes, it was just the words he wanted to hear.

"Please, Ostia, don't let your father harm me, he's sick in the head, I didn't do anything." You heard the girl plead with a broken voice, but all you could focus on was how pink her lips were, naturally, it didn't look like she had applied any form of lipstick.

You looked intently at her lips and all you could wonder was whether her nipples were as pink as her lips, you had read somewhere that a woman's nipple was the same color as her lips, you would have loved to confirm, but your father would definitely not approve, and to you, he was a God.

"Very very disgusting." You muttered again, and the look in her eyes would have broken even the heart of the devil.

"So you think you can deceive my son, abi, calling me mad." Your father yelled, hitting her on the head, and for a split second her eyes rolled back.

"Let me get this over with, 5 mins." Your father announced and as if she had forseen what was about to happen to her, she began struggling with all her might, you wanted to tell her to stop struggling, that it was of no use, but your father wouldn't approve of you doing such.

"Please, please Ostia, I'm begging you!." She shouted savagely as your father dragged her away by the hair "please Ostia, I'm the only child of my family, Ostia please, I know you're nothing like your father, please, I know he's mani-" she was cut shut by your father striking her, probably a slap.

For a second, she stopped, but she continued "Osita please, it's me that is begging you, it's Chiamaka oo.!" She yelled the last part so loud you thought your ears will explode, your father finally dragged her into the gate man house and locked the door, you shut the front door, but you could still hear her muffled screams.

Five minutes and it'll all be over.

*****

Your father was a good man, no, your father is a good man, he wasn't always doing stuff like bringing people home and ending them, it was their fault, the military destroyed your father.

Your father was a retired solider who had worked in the military for 30 years.

He was already in the military before he met your mother, you could remember vividly when you were 5, your mother would sit In front of the TV for the whole night keep tracking of which soldier had died in the war, sighs of relief escaping her lips each time a dead solders picture was displayed on TV, and it wasn't your father's.

As a young boy, you always thought your father surviving the war was a blessing, but when you got older, you wished more than anything that your father had died in the war, at least he would have died with his sanity intact.

It was only when you got older that you realized that each time your father returned from war, a part of his sanity was chopped off, physically he was alright, but mentally, he was dead.

You remember on one occasion you both were watching a movie, an action movie, that day your mother had come back late from work, if not, you would never have had an opportunity to watch it, she would never approve of you watching violent movies, but your dad didn't mind, he said it helped in sharpening the mind.

You were sitting on the ground (a habit you had formed which your mom despised as well) when a shooting scene took place in the movie, the main character, who was ironically a soldier, had shot down a man, killing him with one bullet. You turned to your father.

"Daddy, how did he know exactly where to shoot that would kill him?" You asked, and a small smile spread across his face, he liked it when you asked him intellectual questions, he loved it more when it concerned the military.

"It's part of what they teach you in the military." He answered simply.

"Wow, it most be really nice to know exactly where to shoot someone that would result in instant death, no stress." You had added, proud of yourself at how smart you sounded.

"It is nice, they teach how to shoot." He paused and adjusted himself on the chair, resting his head on his shoulder, "but they don't teach you how to live with the guilt of shooting." He added absent-mindedly, his eyes looking farther than the TV.

You wanted to ask questions, but the look on face was that of finality.

You often wondered why your father never resigned from his job, it was killing him, he knew it, your mom knew it, you remember nights you heard her crying and begging your father to quit, but he never did.

Maybe it was the pay, which was good, too good, the pay that brought to life the huge mansion-like house you lived in, the house which compound could house a carnival, the house which housed a guest house, not room, house!, The compound which housed a gate man house that had an air conditioner.

Or maybe it was prestige, the longer your father was in military, the higher his ranking became, the more his immunity increased, the more people respected and feared him.

You were seventeen the first time your father hit your mom, it wasn't a full blown beating, just a slap, a single slap that left blood seeping out of your mother's mouth.

The slap was fast, swift but very effective, sending a clear message, or rather a warning. You all stared, you, your mother and your two 12-year-old twin sisters, Ọlaedo and Olamma, who though twins, were born in different years, Ọlaedo coming out on 31st December and Olamma coming out on 1st January.

Your father had just retired from the military and had taken to drinking and smoking, he said it helped him forget, what he wanted to forget, he never said, but he said it helped him forget. At first, he smoked outside, in the sit out near the garden, then he began smoking inside his study.

Your mother was alarmed and tried talking him out of it, but his reply was always the same, "I know what I'm doing". He later on dropped alcohol, but continued smoking.

The cigarette had caused the slap, the tiny lifeless thing that destroyed people's kidneys had caused the slap which injured your mother's cheek and heart, the cigarette had caused your mom to leave.

Your parents had come to a silent agreement, your dad could smoke but only in his library, away from you guys, it was as simple as that, until it wasn't, you were all watching Titanic when your father walked into the living room, with a lit cigarette in-between his fingers, he looked at you, then at your sisters before he sat down next to your mom who hadn't noticed his presence.

Your mother's face had twisted into a frown when she noticed what your father had in hand, she had reached out for the cigarette when the slap had occurred, the slap which made time stop, the slap which caused an eeriness of silence which still loomed in your house up until today.

Your father had gotten up from his chair and made straight for his car.

"Your father is gone, he's dead." Your mother had said as she shoved her clothes into her traveling bag. Your sisters were doing the same, you were supposed to be doing the same, but you couldn't let your family fall apart just because of a slap.

"You call it just a slap, I looked into his eyes Ostia, and do you know what I saw, nothing!, I saw nothing, that is not the man I married, the man that drove off a few minutes ago posseses my husband's body but not his soul." She was zipping up her bag.

"But, we can sort it out, mummy, it can't end like this, after all you both have been through." You said, stopping her from completely zipping up her bag.

"Go and pack your bag." She warned between clenched teeth, trying her best to hold back tears which threatened to fall, her left cheek was still swollen.

"What about the wedding vows, for better for worse." You reminded her.

"I won't be abused in my husband's house, omamee (it won't happen)." She gently pushed your hand away from the zipper, "Go and pack your bag." She repeated before dragging her things downstairs.

You wanted to join them, but something, was stopping you, a force.

"Abi you're going to Aunty ifeoma's house, I'll come there, but not today." You had told your mom as her brown eyes sliced into your black ones, your mom had light-brown skin which your sisters had inherited, yours was darker, like your father's.

"This is not the time to be stubborn." Your mother had commanded, but your mind was made up, you weren't going anywhere, there was a forcing willing you to stay, you had to stay.

"Next week, I promise." You had said before hugging her and your sisters goodbye, but you never kept to that promise.

Your father had come back an hour after they left and didn't seem surprised when you told him that they left, for good.

"You didn't join them?" He had asked.

"No, no, I didn't."

He had chuckled and, placing his hands on your shoulders he had said "Good because if you left, I would have found all of you and shot each one of you, and then shot myself." He pulled your cheek, "you know I can?." He asked, staring at you with blood - shot eyes, he had been smoking.

"Yes... I know." You replied, hoping he didn't notice you were trembling, he hated it, he said those that trembled at the sight of others where pathetic.

He brought his face closer to yours, "Good." He slurred and only then did his breath of alcohol hit your nose, he had been smoking and drinking.

So just like that, you had become a prisoner in your own house, your presence being a guarantee for your mother and sibling's life.

When you didn't come back after a week, your mother had called to find out why, your initial thought was to ignore the call, the sooner you cut communication with her, the safer she was, but you knew too well that doing so would get your mom worried and the chances of her driving up here with the police would be very high, and if she did so it would be useless because your father was an army official in a corrupt country, he could get away with literally anything.

So, you answered the call and explained everything, your mom understood, that's what you liked about her, she was just smart, she didn't let her emotions rule her, she thought things through, practically, she knew showing up at the house was stupid, your father was mental, and he honestly wouldn't mind locking the door and setting both himself and you two on fire, rendering your sisters without family

So, you both thought and at the end of the day, you both decided you would stay for the mean time until you came up with something and while you're at it,, she made it her responsibility to call you every day and send money for anything you needed.

It was a month after your mom and sister left that your father began bringing victims home, it was a month after your mother and sisters left that your father sacked your gate man, Abibio and converted the gate man house into a slaughterhouse, it was a month after your mother and sisters left that you first saw a dead body, that you first disposed of it.

The first man your father had brought back was in his late 20', his name was Kayinayo, he was a stout man, half your father's height, he was bald and was missing a front tooth.

Until today, the greatest mistake you made was knowing his name, it was easier to forget what they looked like if you didn't know their name, you vowed to never make that mistake again, but this girl, this chiamaka...

After that day, your father began bringing back victims (males)on a weekly basis, each of them either attempting to steal his phone or his money, the same story over and over again.

Every day, you silently prayed the police would trace the victims to your father's house and have him arrested, but this was Nigeria and your father was a retired solider.

Your father had gone a month without bringing back any victims and for a second, you thought he had stopped, but today, not only did he bring back a victim, the victim was a girl, you were so used to seeing males that you slowly became used to it, used to shoving their body in a body bag without batting an eye lid.

But a girl, that was out of the question, and this girl happened to know you, know your name, yes, your father had called your name In front of her but the way she called out to you had a familiarity attached to it, chiamaka...

Then it clicked, you had known her from school, you weren't friends with her but you were friends with her twin brother, Eloka, who had died of epilepsy in ss1, you remembered hearing that she changed school after it.

You had to do something, you had to, the guilt would kill you, you regret not helping the other victims, but you just had to help her, not just because you wanted to know what her breasts looked like, but, because for some reason, your mind kept going to that dark side you tried averting from, what if it was olanna, or ọlaedo?

*****

But before you can will your body to move, to act, you hear the tapping on the window, tap, tap, tap, a sound so light you sometimes thought it was all in your head, a sound which signified finality.

You wish you did something, but you were not strong enough, you were nothing but an accomplice, you will find a way to escape, surely you will, and then you will pay your father back for everything, you will gain your freedom.

For now, for the sake of your sisters and mother, you have to pretend to be a dutiful son, and you have to do what any dutiful son will do at this exact moment, so you wait until you hear your father lock the back door before grabbing a bucket, a mop and a body bag.

A/n: I think this is the longest I've written so far, I would have published it sooner but it was so long and editing it was stressful, I'm pretty sure they are still mistakes in it, don't forget to point it out.

Quick question, if you were in osita's shoes, will you do the same?, don't forget to vote, comment and share.