The club was unusually crowded. The noise was adding to the slight throb in his head, he massaged his temple, took a sip from the glass of creamy liquid, the bartender placed before him. He avoided drinking spirits- something that has to do with his experience as a child, despite being the owner of Davila Hotels and Suites.

His gaze perused the club, one of his numerous investments, but nothing seemed to put him in good spirit this particular night.

He watched Rosie sashayed her curvy self towards him, she was every man’s dream, but to him she was just one of his numerous female companions-None of them meant anything to him other than for quick romp in the hay.

“Are you alright? You seemed distant” she purred, perched on an empty bar stool beside him, Rosie was asking him for the third time in the evening. Not because she cared, not at all, Rosie never cared about anything or anyone but money, lots of money, which attributed to her tolerance of his occasional monstrous ways, and moods. Although she did a good job of hiding it well under a smile on her surgery enhanced lips, courtesy of his generosity.

Dave Campbell, prided himself a self made man at the young age of twenty-nine, and deservingly so. He had all the billionaire awards decorating his mansion to show for it. He even managed to snag a position in the Forbes magazine. But tonight he just wanted to be an ordinary guy, enjoying an evening at the club.

He spared his companion a dark look, and he could see her shiver. A sinister smile on his beautiful lips, he stirred, the glass of Irish cream in his hands, then took a gulp, exuding an air of formidability and ruthlessness.

He watched Rosie back off a little, scrapping the stool on the tiled floor in the process. He had that effect on people. Growing up on the street has thought him traits needed for survival, specifically when you move with the crowd he moved with.

The noise in the club suddenly began to grate on his nerves, adding to his already throbbing head.

He slammed the empty cup on the bar slab with a loud thump, licked the creamy liquid of his lips with an intense look on Rosie- his chosen companion for the night. He dragged her along with him outside to the waiting car. He needed something or someone to distract him from his foul mood, the club was not providing the entertainment he needed at the moment. And he knew Rosie would do a good job of distracting him so long it involved money- gratefully he had plenty of that to spare.

He instructed the driver to take them to his Lekki gardens’ mansion, Ordinarily Dave would not have taken her to his residence, but he needed the comfort of his home tonight. It was past 2:00 o’ clock on Sunday morning, so as expected the usual Lagos traffic was absent. The journey from his exclusive membership night club-where he was a silent partner, to his house was short even made shorter by the free highway.

****

Rosie sat comfortably beside Dave, pushing her body into his. She was both scared and excited about what Dave might do to her behind closed doors. Dave Campbell had women at his feet wherever he went. She believed she was fortunate to have snagged his attention. He had the physical appeal that would give George Clooney a run for his money. She followed him willingly in spite of his unpleasant mood, because she knew she would leave Dave Campbell’s company trifle richer. The fact that he was generous in bed was an icing on the cake, she was determined to do all she could to lift his mood at least.

****

…….. Dave lay exhausted, listening to the quite snore from his bed partner….. And he gradually slipped in to oblivion…….

“Stop it! Stop it!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, and walked slowly with shaky young hands, his sweaty fingers clenched on the weapon, raised slightly above his head. He had thought of running away with his mother and sister many times before, but had not saved enough money to plan their escape yet, but how much more could they take, and for how long? Someone had to step in and save them from his terror. And since he was the older and the only sane man in the house, the onus rested on him…… he thought as he took one slow step after another, his teeth gritted in anger. He had tried several times to save her from his battery; it had never ended well for him. Several times he was thrown against the wall and beaten black and blue. He had bruised ribs and black eyes to show for his failed attempts. But it would be different this time, because he came prepared. He tightened his fingers on the weapon of defense in his hands, moving slowly but determinedly. The feel of the cold floor beneath his feet sent shivers up his spine, his eyes unwavering from the figure leaning towards his struggling mother gasping for breath on the cold floor.

“I will be the end of you” he heard his drunken slurs. He was quiet a heavy man compared to her petite form and his mother was no match for him in spite of his drunken state. He stood just behind him, inhaling the reek from his liquor laced body, but he was so possessed with whatever demon that had him, that he was unaware of anyone behind him. The struggling legs were becoming weaker. He knew if he didn’t do something soon, they would stop moving altogether, and his young mind knew what that meant. Different emotions hound him but courage and anger prevailed. He raised the pestle with now- steady hands; with all the strength his fourteen-year-old, weak muscles could muster he hit the weapon on his balding head.

He watched as his arms slackened in their hold, his body stilled, and he turned his head so slightly to see who his attacker was, his shocked gaze landed on his angry one, he rolled over and fell lying lifeless at his feet. His unseeing shocked eyes were opened and his tongue left hanging on one side of his mouth.

The anger that took him over slowly dissipated, and was replaced with shock, then fear, he dropped the pestle landing on the body at his feet with a thud. He stood still, his arms hanging by his sides and his eyeballs threatened to fall off their sockets.

“What have you done boy?” He perceived the fear in his mother’s weak voice when she finally gained composure, but he stood on the spot, and watched his mother scurried off the floor, rubbed her neck, and then crawled to the body still unmoving on the floor. “Aaron! Aaron! Please stand up” shaking him, and tapping him on the cheeks.

“Bring me a bowl of water!” His mother’s scream, jarred him from his shocked state. They both knew she was only grasping for straws

He rushed to the corner of the room where the large clay pot of water sat, lifted the lid with shaky hands and dipped a small bowl to fetch water from its depth. He forced his wiry legs towards his mother, careful not to splash the water on his younger sister sleeping soundly on the mat just beside the pot of water. He placed the bowl in his mother’s surprisingly steady hands and watched her sprinkle water on his father’s face but he didn’t blink and his vision remained unfocused. They both knew what had just happened, but neither of them was willing to state the obvious for the fear that it might make it more real.

Tears ran down his eyes, and he shuffled from one foot to the other, willing he could undo the past few minutes. He watched his mother made every attempt to bring his father back to life but fate, wasn’t having it.

The bang on the door made them both jumped, almost out of their skin. It must be the neighbors coming to rescue his mother from his father’s punch, as usual. But quite sad and maybe a little liberating that his mother wouldn’t be in need of rescuing this time because he had just killed his abusive father, he thought hysterically.

Dave Campbell just killed Aaron Campbell. The realization hit him hard, and he immediately started crying profusely, “I killed him! I killed him” he screamed. He listened as the bang on the door continued.

“You didn’t kill him, I did” his mother stood from her crouched position beside the corpse, shaking him like she could shake him into believing what she just said to him.

He kept screaming, overwrought, “I killed my father! I killed my father”

“No, you didn’t, I did… in self defense” still shaking the seemingly truth into him.

He was not listening but kept screaming, till he received a reverberating slap to his already wet cheeks to calm his hysterics.

“Repeat after me, mother killed my father”

He rubbed his cheeks as he recovered from the slap; he repeated what his mother said, still quaking.

“So I’m going to open that door and do not say a word, and if asked repeat what I told you”

He fearfully nodded……..His eyes latched on his father’s still form and the pull of blood gathered in a puddle at his head…. No-o-o-o he screamed.