UNTAMED

Part Fourteen

     {But why, why this chronic pain, this ever worsening wound and no healing in sight?}
   
        He had wanted to feel again, he had wanted to feel the pains of loss, the pains that would make him keep his memories of Abigail but what he was feeling right now was not what he asked for. It had started all of a sudden. Immediately Wild had mentioned Lord Nero, something had triggered in him making him boil in rage. His anger had increased when he had opened the door to his master bedroom. The sight of Halima, the fears in her eyes, her reactions to her helpless state were producing the opposite feelings in him. She was forcing memories he had rather not remember, memories of his mother having to live in fear because one uncle had come from nowhere to claim his late father’s properties. According to him, he was abroad when his father had died. But he had come back looking haggard. Her fears were reminding him of how his mother had knelt down to beg, how his mother had felt helpless when the Asagba of Asaba had declared his uncle's points valid. The house and land belonged to him but because he was still a minor, it was right that the Uncle should be in charge till he came of age. His Uncle had sighted his mother’s marriage to a stranger who would have taken the house and the land from their family as a good reason to take over his brother’s properties.
    He had hated seeing his mum beg his uncle not to sell the land to a distant relative. His uncle had said the money would be saved for his education and the land was not leaving the family. As if that was not enough, his uncle had told them to pack out of the house to a mud house because he wanted to also sell the house to another relative. According to him, it was his duty to help pay back the money his mother had borrowed because of his late father’s health. His uncle said he did not want him to grow up to meet debt. They were given a two weeks ultimatum to pack. He had felt anger as his mum was pushed by his uncle when she had tried holding his shirt to beg. He was just twelve but there was no way he was going to allow his uncle to have his way. The first group to feel his wrath were his distant relatives and his people who came to inspect the land. Almost all of them had stepped on his trap. Those who had escaped had run to call for help. The sticks he had used were the sharpest he had ever made. The trap was ignited if someone stepped on it. It would close up and the pointed edge of three sticks would pierce into the person’s feet. Pulling the other side of the trap to free someone would make the pointed edges to dig deeper into the person’s skin. They had to use manual saw to separate the two sides of the trap and with the sticks still deep in their flesh. They had carried them to an herbalist who dealt on the treatment of broken bones. About seven of them stepped on his trap, but he had set about twenty and they were all hidden.
  His uncle who was unfortunately not with them, had come to their house with three youths and a whip to call him out for his crimes. But there was no way he was ever going to be whipped again. From the window, he had seen there was no way he could fight off the three youths who his uncle must have told to hold him down while he whipped him. His mother had come outside to beg and he had hated seeing that sight. She had pleaded that he was only a boy and his uncle should have mercy, his uncle had pushed her away and as she fell, her knee scraped the ground. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He had ran to where his father’s hunting equipment were kept. There were few options available, either he carried the rifle or the bow and arrow. He had sometimes practiced with both when his mother was not around. The first time he had pulled the trigger, nothing had happened but with trial and error, he had cocked the riffle and when he had pulled the trigger again, the force had sent him and the riffle to the ground. The bullet had penetrated a mango tree. The arrow had been very easy to use, it was as if he was born to use it. Within few days of practice, he was able to shoot down a squirrel trying to chew some palm fruits, then later, he could release arrows in quick succession.
He had picked the bow and just six arrows. The gun would have to wait for another time. He had climbed out through the window and had stealthily crawled till he was at his uncle’s back, with more than three yards distance. His mum had already been pushed out of the way and they were trying to break the door with an axe.
“Looking for me?” he had shouted.
His uncle and the three boys had turned same time he shot one of the boys on his shoulder. He had immediately replaced the first arrow.
“Ten seconds and it won’t be your arm” he said ready to release the second one.
He had seen the fear in the boy’s eyes and he had enjoyed the feeling of being powerful and in control.
“Get him” his uncle had shouted.
The boy who was already wailing ran the other way but the others still wanted to find out what he would do. He had shot the second one on his stomach but the arrow had missed and had pierced his side sparing his life. The third arrow was ready but there was no need to shoot because the third youth had ran like he was being chased by a beast. He had abandoned his screaming colleague and his uncle to their fate.
As the second boy screamed in pains, holding the arrow in his skin with the hope of stopping further penetration, he turned his focus to his uncle.
“Obinna are you mad? Do you want to shoot your uncle?” his uncle shouted.
He had tried not to show it but it was there, the fear and panic.
“You touched my mum first. Nobody touches my mum” he had shouted back.
“Obinna don’t, please my heart, my Obi. Please let him go, please” his mum had pleaded almost when he was about to release the arrow.
“In the next five seconds I don’t want to see anybody here or I will shoot you. Get out of our house and never come back again” he had shouted.
The screaming boy had suddenly gotten the strength to run. His uncle in his panicked state had ran into the land he was about to sell and had stepped on one of the traps.
His scream had rent the peaceful morning.
“It’s true oh, Ogbuenhi is back oh, somebody help me. Ogbuenhi is back oh” his uncle had screamed.
      Those memories should remain memories but somehow Halima had been forcing back his childhood memories. It was making him angry. But Chief’s name was making him furious. He knew his anger was not directed at her but he could not help it. He was founding it difficult to control his new emotions. He could not feel anything for some time but suddenly all negative feelings were flooding his emotions at once, it was overwhelming. He had sent a message to Jason to send the video before he had opened the door. Then, he was trying to sort out his sudden emotions but she had pissed him off with her fearful face reminding him of his mother. Then she had mentioned Chief, a name his beast yearned to meet, he had fired without thinking and he would need to repair the wall the bullet had pierced through.