An evening with Eva – Episode 3


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Episode 3

I woke up with a banging
headache. My stomach churned
and my throat was dry. I was
very thirsty. I squinted, trying to
adjust to the brightness of the
room. I was sitting on a wooden
chair, my hands tied at my back.
It was a tiny room. The only piece
of furniture was the one I was
seated on. My shoes had been
removed. I raised my head and
looked around. There was a pile
of plywood to my left. A water
dispenser was by the iron door.
There was a tiny bed to my far
right which could only take one
person comfortably. D–n, I was
hungry. I tried to recollect what
happened and how I got here. It
was all fuzzy. I tasted the dry
blood on the cut on my swollen
lower lip. I silently cursed the
Macho man who hit me.
I had to get out of here. With the
tip of my fingers, I felt the tape
used to tie my hands. Masking
tape. I looked around for any
shred of metal I could use to
loosen myself. None. I tried to
force the masking tape off me by
pulling my hands apart. I
groaned and struggled. It did not
come off. The 100 watt bulb was
blinding my eyes. There were no
windows and the fan was
blowing at a very irritating low
rate, making funny noises. Tiny
drops of sweat formed on my
forehead.
What time was it? Where was I?
Was this where I was going to
die? Is this the slaughter house?
All these questions ran through
my head in milliseconds. I started
crying. I was weak, hungry and
afraid. I was not going to die
here I told myself. I looked round
the tiny room again. This time I
looked very slowly and very
carefully. As I looked past the
door, something shiny caught my
eyes. There was a part of the
door which had a little
protrusion. It looked sharp. It
was very small, like a design of
some sort. This could work I told
myself. I had watched The
Avengers where Black Widow
was held captive in a similar
situation when a call came
through to her. Her deft mastery
of martial arts helped her escape
and defeat her captors. I wished
I knew martial arts. I prayed
quickly and silently. And I lifted
myself up with the chair. The
wooden chair was not heavy
after all! I hopped and hopped
and hopped. Finally, I got to the
position of the shrapnel looking
protrusion on the door and
turned my back against it. I tried
to locate the shrapnel by trying
to feel the door, my hands still
tied behind the chair.
“Fvck!” I cursed. The shrapnel cut
my finger. I felt the warm fluid
trickle out. I wanted to suck it to
stop the bleeding. I could not. I
continued, trying to trace the
shrapnel and get it to where I
could successfully pierce the
tape. I found it. I tried to pierce
the masking tape with the
shrapnel.
“Ahhhh..Fvck! God!” I cried as the
shrapnel cut my palm. I could feel
blood oozing out. I smiled. The
masking tape was loose. I quickly
freed my hands from the chair
and got up. My palm was hurting.
I cut some foam from the bed on
the floor and tried to clean the
blood. I cut more foam and
cleaned the drops of blood on
the floor too. I scrutinized the
area to see if any changes could
be easily noticed. It was not.
I bent my neck at the dispenser
and opened the tap. The taste of
cold water was soothing. I had
my fill and let out a loud belch. I
saw the bed and a huge desire
to just lie down on it came over
me. But a lot of work was yet to
be done. And if I was found
unbound and on the bed, the
next restraint they would put on
me would not be a masking tape.
I carried the wooden chair back
to the exact spot it was kept
initially and sat on in. I paced the
room, deep in thought and trying
to work out a plan. I can’t die
now, I told myself, shaking my
head. I was just 27. In my prime.
I meant so much to my mum. My
girlfriend would break down if
anything happened to me. The
office would freeze for at least a
week before they could get
themselves back up. I had to do
somwthing. But what? I put my
head on the dispenser bottle and
tears trickled down my eyes. I
prayed to God to forgive me my
sins and that I would dedicate
my life to him if I ever got out of
this alive. My nose ran. I dragged
it in.
Just then I heard footsteps. And
then the footsteps got closer.
Designer shoes. Maybe cowboy
boots. It could also be a woman
in high heels. But from the
sounds I heard, I knew that there
was a corridor of some sort
outside this door, which was
either tiled or very smooth. I
made to resume my prayers on
the dispenser when I heard the
jangle of a bunch of keys and a
key go into the lock. I
immediately rushed to the chair,
sat down and put my hands
behind the chair, in the position I
was left making sure I didn’t
make a sound. The Iron door
opened and someone stepped in,
closing it behind him. The door
made a soft thud when it closed.
I kept my head low, my heart
was pounding so hard in my
chest I was afraid he would hear
it. There was a moment of
silence. I could feel his eyes all
over me, trying to survey me. He
kicked my legs gently. He kicked
again. Then he came closer.
“Hey” He said tapping my chin. I
kept mute.
“Hey! Boy!” He said louder, this
time tapping my chin a bit harder
twice and lifting my face up.
I pretended to be waking from
sleep. I opened my eyes slowly. It
was Macho man. My heart beat
faster. This brute of a man was
so merciless. I still remembered
the ringing slap he gave me
hours ago. I groaned.
“We are leaving” He said.
I dropped my head again as if I
was fainting. He stooped to look
at me, a certain worry in his eyes.
That was his mistake.
I don’t know where I got the
courage or the idea. I felt this
sudden rush of adrenaline and I
was not even thinking about my
actions. Even I could not believe
it. As he stooped to look at me, I
freed my hands from the back of
the chair and gave him two
heavy slaps on each eye. I put all
the power and force I could get
into the slaps. I was afraid I had
blinded him. He screamed and
held his face. I pushed the chair
back and landed a huge kick to
his ball5. He fell on the ground
gasping for air. I made for the
door but he held my leg. I turned
and kicked his hand with all the
might I could muster. He was still
gasping for air. I got to the door,
turned the handle and bolted.
The corridor was long, with
doors left and right. The floor
was tiled and clean. It looked like
an apartment in progress that
was nearing completion. I got to
the end of the corridor and
opened the door. The Toyota
Camry that picked me was
parked neatly inside the
compound. It was not a very
huge compound. The floor was
interlocked with bricks. I dashed
to the gate, got out and
continued to run. I had no idea
where I was going.
I was on a small pathway that
could barely take two cars. There
were bushed all around. No trace
of civilization. I looked farther
ahead. Nothing. Just a lonely
pathway with bushes
everywhere. I was getting tired. I
had been running for a while. I
had no phone. My wallet was still
with me, but it was of no use. I
looked behind me a few times,
trying to see if Macho man was
coming after me. No sound of a
car or anything of the sort. I
stopped to catch my breath. After
a while I began walking slowly,
tired and hungry. I was fatigued.
I sat down on the floor beside
the road, praying to get help. I
began to cry again.
I hear d the sound of a car
coming from the direction I was
heading. I quickly stood up and
listened. It was approaching me
now. Any help would do at this
point. I flagged down the car but
it ewent past me. It got a few
meters away from me, then
reversed. I thanked God.
It stopped beside me and the
driver’s window wound down. It
was a woman. Thank heavens.
“Please ma’am. I would be
extremely indebted to you if you
could please give me a ride
anywhere out of here. If I can get
a bus anywhere, I would be very
grateful.” I begged.
She looked at me as if assessing
me and deciding whether to give
me a lift or not. When it seemed
like she was going to zoom off, I
begged her with tears falling
from my eyes.
“Please ma. I mean you no harm.
Please” I begged.
“What happened to you? What
are you doing here? And why are
you looking so tattered?” she
asked.
“It’s quite a story ma.” I replied,
my tears refusing to stop.
My tears seemed to give her a
change of heart. She nodded her
head to the side of the
passenger seat.
“Come in.” she said.
She opened the door and I got
in. The refreshing AC, the comfort
of the leather seat and the safety
in the hands of a good Samaritan
were all welcome developments.
We drove at some speed and
when we passed the house I
was held captive in, I glanced
and looked inside. The Camry
was still there. I was relieved. I
relaxed.
“So what is your name?” the
good Samaritan asked me after
an eternity of silence. She spoke
very good English. Gold earrings,
gold bracelets and a gold
necklace. She smelled of class.
What did I expect? She was
driving a Honda Civic 2012.
“My name is Sean ma.” I replied.
“Nice. I am Sophia.”

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