Eighteen O' Five {ONGOING}🇳🇬

•~~Chapter Nine~~•

If the body and the phone were no longer in the woods, it only meant one thing; someone else had found them, probably taken them to the police who would soon come for my arrest.

I didn't think there was any convincing that would make anyone asides from my father and sister believe I had not taken a sharp object through Aderera's stomach multiple times in the woods.

Hope was lost for me, I was going to jail...or going to die. Suicidal thoughts ran my mind all through the night. It was so much to handle for Olamipo too but she was strong, echoing words of reassurance to me.

My father was the strongest of all. With the thoughts that he might..or would lose his son, he still told us everything would be fine, and held on to his decision of taking us back to Lagos the next morning. He had told us to act like nothing ever happened. Was that even possible?

The thoughts of running far away took the baton from the suicidal thoughts that had earlier lingered on my mind. Another thought whispered, no matter where I ran, how hard I ran, the police would come for me. The victim was the king's only child.

The night passed, we had hardly shut our eyes before God's morning star rose above the horizon, brightening up everywhere.

It was 7:00 am.

We dragged our luggage from our respective rooms to the living room, all dressed up, ready to hit the road.

Olamipo sat leg crossed on one of the brown leather chairs in the living room, phone at hand with her thumb sliding up and down her screen while we waited for my dad to be out of his room.

I pinned my butt on the chair opposite Olamipo's, clearly anxious, tapping my feet on the rug beneath them and drumming the leather chair with my fingers.

I just wanted to leave.

Knock knock knock.

The hit on the entrance door that slapped me away from my thoughts also attracted my dad to the living room. Olamipo and I froze on our chairs, maintaining eye contact with one another. My fingers had stopped drumming on the leather chair and, she had paused looking into her phone.

My heart raced faster than Usain Bolt would in a hundred-meter dash as my father raised a finger and approached the door. Who could it be early in the morning? My brain couldn't process any other options as an answer.

The police.

My sister and I remained in our seats as our eyes followed my dad to the entrance door. He didn't hesitate, he opened the door at once like he would do every other day.

It was difficult to see or even hear the person behind the door, my dad opened the door only slightly with his body shielding the little opening.

Olamide, this is the end for you.

No, chill, it's nothing.

Prison!

Death sentence!

Different thoughts, positive and negative, kept competing in my head as I watched my dad at the door. The fact that I didn't know who it was behind the door grew more tension in me. If it was a movie, I definitely would have passed out easily, but no. I tried so hard, it just didn't happen.

My dad and the person behind the door had a conversation for a few seconds before he had his left hand stretched outside the door through the small opening, returned it inside almost immediately with two flat boxes. This time, the door opened more widely and it was possible to see who had been behind the door. It was a fairly dark young man in a white T-shirt and a red cap.