Eighteen O' Five {ONGOING}🇳🇬

•~~Chapter Eighteen~~•

“Ahhhhh!”

She screamed again as though she needed urgent aid. Luckily, the torches came back on, making it easier for us to navigate our way to her room's door. It was locked. Dad threw his shoulder at the wooden door, once, twice, and at the third, it forced open.  The state of the room was proof of struggle. The room was all over the map. Her clothes scattered around like mown and withered grass. The girls' things she usually had arranged on her dress mirror were also littered on the floor of the room. The curtain in the room swirled and rippled from the effect of wind that gusted through the opened window.

Outside the window was where her screams came from. Outside, in an old junk truck, she struggled to get out of. The engine of the truck ignited, groaned, as though it waited to be seen, before driving off.

“Get the keys,” said dad, as he rushed out of the room.

It was happening. The devil was here. He was around to claim his prize, the soul he requested for. I expected this, we all did. But what I didn't exactly imagine was the devil coming in a human form(though I hadn't confirmed with my eyes) or a junk truck. I expected a reddish giant creature with horns, that breathes fire. A much more scary beast.

Dad didn't want to go belly up on the promise he made to Olamipo about keeping her safe so we set out in our car and chased after the damn truck. The truck was far ahead of us but dad's determination was ahead of anything else. He handled the steering wheel firmly, heaving the gear recklessly while expediting the car like a formula1 racer that wanted to win his first championship trophy after losing ten. I couldn't dare tell him to calm down.

At 140km/h, all we could see in the dark were the rare lights of the truck, far ahead of us: red rectangular boxes of lights on two separate ends. The more effort dad put into the driving, the farther the truck got.

This only reminded me of my seventh new year's eve with Olamipo in a park in Lagos. There, we were over the moon and grinning from ear to ear. Like Tom and Jerry, we ran around, chased after each other with our colourful Christmas lights that were in the form of a sword. She was always the faster one with her tiny legs like a crab. The faster I chased, the farther she got. And when I finally met up with her, it was because she fell and bruised her knees badly. Now, we were in a replica situation, chasing after the truck on the highway, surrounded by just trees. I hoped she wouldn't bruise her knees this time, too.

Dad's eyes were now red, filled with so much rage. I could see it in his eyes he was ready to go into a shit hole with the truck just to save his daughter if that was what it took. Frustration was engraved all over his face as he couldn't catch up with the truck yet. He banged his fists hard on the steering wheel before letting out a groan.

“Arrrrggh!”

He was up in arms for not getting any closer to the truck, almost going crazy in fact. He marched hard on the accelerator pedal, the car hopped suddenly forwards, plunging my back into the seat. The rush of air in the car was deafening and I was certain it blocked my dad's ear to his thoughts. The devil's speed he was driving at was scary I had to clasp my seat belt at once. Still, I couldn't tell him to calm down since he was closing in on the distance with the truck. He wouldn't listen.

When you know you're a tad closer to your goal or success, your brain blocks your ear to noises and motivates you to go even harder. Then you go if your mind wills. But if the mind is weak, you relax. Dad's mind, I believed was at the time stronger than the motivation his brain was even giving. He marched harder on the pedal, his hands firm on the steering wheel. This time, when I looked into his red eyes, I  wanted to tell him to simmer down but it was rather late.

The car was laying rubber at a speed he had no total control over before he realized the path ahead was curved. He managed to step on the brake pedal as quickly as he could (at that speed), swerving across the path, but that wasn't enough to keep the car on the track or put it to a stop. The car screeched as it swerved away from the asphalt, spinning a number of times I lost memory of. It happened so fast. As this happened, I began to mouth some words my ear couldn't even hear. Last prayer?

The car veered across the road sharply, coming to a sudden stop after crashing into one of the forest trees on the side of the road. The impact made a loud noise and everything went dark abruptly. I felt a plunged-up sensation that made sounds appeared muffled in my ears as though they were blocked by water. To move my feet or other parts of my body seemed almost impossible but I did manage to force my eyes open. My eyes met my dad's, he was staring at me listlessly like a vegetable. He was stuck in his seat, his hands and head laid lifelessly on the steering wheel. Blood trickled from the side of his head to his jawline like raindrops pelting the windows of a car. I feared he was dead until he murmured.

“Go...get...sister...go...go...”

I was still belted to my seat with my head bolstered by a fluffy bag of air that had prevented me from whacking my head on the dashboard during the crash. I unclasped the seatbelt, forced the door open, and crawled out of the vehicle like a dog, with my hands and knees on the ground.

Peering onto the asphalt, I spotted the truck. It had stopped, it's red rectangular rare lights shining into my eyes.

Son of a bitch.

My head banged but I struggled to get on my feet, staggering to find my balance. A bit stupefied I was.

“I'm coming to get you, Olamipo. I'm coming, I promise.”

I repeated in a low mantra as I swayed my feet towards the truck.

*