Tajudeen ran into my house panting, on a bright sunny afternoon. I was lying on a sofa in the sitting room, scrolling through my phone when he barged in and locked the door behind him.
“Robinson help me, he wants to kill me!!” he said as he fell to the floor breathing heavily.
“Ah! Who?!” I asked as I jumped up from the sofa and went to meet him on the floor where he lay. He didn’t say anything again, he just kept pointing at the door and kept repeating the same words “he wants to kill me, he wants to kill me”.
Suddenly, someone started knocking on the door.
“Robinson don’t open, please don’t open that door, he wants to kill me” Tajudeen begged as he held my Jean trousers tightly. He had never been this scared before in his whole life. The Tajudeen I knew, never feared anything. Infact I always marveled at his bravery up until that moment when he lay helpless at my feet, holding my jeans tightly.
“Brother Rob please open the door, it’s me Ginika, we have dismissed from school”
It was the voice of my younger sister, Ginika. She was ten years of age and attended the community primary school there ln Kwara, Illorin, which was situated few kilometers away from the house. She was the one knocking on the door.
I paused in great shock as I switched my gaze from the door to Tajudeen who lay on the floor pleading, and back to the door.
“Please don’t open, he will kill me”
“Who will kill you? Ehn? Answer me naw?”
I asked.
“Wait let me explain” he said.
“But I have to open the door for Ginika, she’s back from school” I said to him as I made for the door.
He held me tightly and begged me not to open the door. So I ended up locking him in my room and then I went to open the door for Ginika.
“Brother Rob Good afternoon” she greeted as she marched upstairs with her tiny legs. She preferred to call me Rob; anyways, I loved it. Ginika was my younger sister; my only sibling. I was 21 when we lost our parents. They’d been kidnapped during a conference trip from Kwara to Bayelsa, and we never heard from them again. That was about three years ago. So it was just I and Ginika. At least I was done with school, so I could take care of her with the money I got from the factory were I worked in.
“Welcome” I replied her, then I stepped outside with the machete I was holding, to see if there was anyone around the house who looked like a killer. However, I saw no one, so I went back inside, bolted the door behind me and walked straight to the room where I’d locked him.
“Tajudeen, there’s no one outside. Talk to me, what’s the issue?” I queried. And after some minutes of putting himself together, he began to speak.
“It’s the video”
“what video?”
“The one I showed you yesterday. The one which a stranger sent to me” he replied.
Tajudeen had texted me few days ago, telling me that someone sent him a video of how he died.
I can remember that I called him to ask what exactly was happening, but he was as scared as I was. In the video, it showed Tajudeen wearing a red suit. It was the red suit which he had planned to wear to the wedding program of Tyson our close friend, which took place yesterday. But Tajudeen didn’t go.
After watching the video, of himself falling to his death from the staircase and disrupting the wedding program, he decided not to attend the wedding program yesterday. Confusing right? Yes. It was a clip about what was to happen. Creepy. Very creepy. So Tajudeen skipped the wedding. He didn’t go.
“The strange number sent me a text this morning” he said as he brought out his cell phone from his right pocket. He opened his WhatsApp and gave me the phone.
I took it from him and read out the message.
“You can’t cheat nature, you can’t escape death, if you try doing so, you will disrupt the timeline and complicate issues.”
After reading it, I felt my heartbeat rising. “Tajudeen who did you offend?” I asked.
My mind went to those girls whom he always played with. Yes, he was a play boy; he could play girls for Africa. The way he played with their feelings like PS5 ehn, he needed to be awarded or that he needed to be prayed for. So I suspected that he must have gravely bitten more than he could chew. And probably one of those girls was after his life.
But he didn’t reply. He was already sobbing. “Robinson please help me, I don’t want to die” he said.
Two days ago, when he had sent me the video of his death, I told him to delete everything about it, block the sender and try to forget about it. And when he did so; everything was calm after that. No disturbance. No noise. Just peace and tranquility. Even while I was at the wedding yesterday I texted him. “You should have been here my bro” but he replied by telling me that he wasn’t in the mood to; which I totally understood.
“After the stranger sent me the same text this morning with another number, I heard a continuous knock on my door, about an hour later” he said.
I listened in fear as he narrated further.
“I asked who it was but there was no response, then I peeped through the door to see who it was and then someone started destroying my door from outside. I could hear the person using a saw and hammer to break the door open, in my own presence” he said
I shook my head in disappointment, what exactly was happening?
“When the person was halfway done with breaking in, I ran out through the back door; but he noticed it and came after me. He was on a black dress and a mask, but I couldn’t see his face. He only spoke twice to me saying I should be dead by now”
That night I let Tajudeen sleep in my house; I didn’t want to lose him early; he was my close friend. I’d met him during my youth service and I loved the fact that we had similar life visions. Interestingly, before the NYSC camp, back at home, we were neighbors and lived in the same area, so that’s how the bond strengthened. We usually went out together, had fun, and did a lot of activities together. One would think we were siblings. No, he was just the definition of ‘There is a friend that sticks closer than a brother’.
So I let him stay with I and Ginika that night, so that I could keep an eye on him.
I gave him a space in the guest room and after making his bed and serving him dinner, I left for my room to sleep. But he didn’t make it till the next morning. Tajudeen was butchered that night.
The next morning by 7am, I opened the door to check up on him. But after seeing the horrific sight, I slumped.
His head had been dismantled from his body. His hands and feet were all lying separately around the room, and his stomach was burst open. There were blood splashes all over the room and the machete which I suspected was used to butcher him, lay beside him.
I’d never seen such horrific scene in my life, and never prayed to see, even in my next life.
“Hello” someone tapped me. I opened my eyes; I was in the hospital. A team of nurses had revived me.
“Mr Robinson can you tell us what happened?” They asked. I was silent for some seconds then I replied with a question.
“Where is Ginika?”
“Sorry who is Ginika?” The nurse replied.
“My younger sister, where is she?”
“Oh, she’s safe, the police found her sleeping soundly in the Master’s bedroom upstairs. She is in their custody now” the nurse replied.
“Thank you Jesus” I muttered. What would I have done if she was also taken.
“Please can you tell us what happened?” A nurse asked. I wasn’t in the mood to do so. I was still recovering from the shock I’d experienced on seeing such horrific scene of Tajudeen, my close friend, the very person I was talking with; few hours back.
“Please tell us what happened” a nurse repeated gently and so I explained to them what had happened right from the time Tajudeen ran into my house.
“Do you have any clue on who this might be?”
I shook my head. If they knew that I was at the point of having a stroke or a heart attack on sighting something horrific again, they wouldn’t be bombarding me with questions upon questions.
“Do you know who the killer is?”
“Have you seen the person before?”
“Is it a man or a woman?”
Since they didn’t want to stop asking, I closed my ears with my two hands until they all shut their mouths. Then a doctor broke the silence.
“Mr Robinson, you can’t leave the hospital now” he, said.
“Why?”
“Your house is under Investigation” he replied.
Anyways, the police didn’t later see anything. They saw no evidence. So after searching and searching for nothing, they tried to point fingers at me. My only saving grace was that Tajudeen never used a password. He was a free minded person and so one could easily unlock his phone and log into his WhatsApp account to find proof of his death, and that’s exactly what I did. I showed them the text message of the masked killer telling him how he couldn’t escape death. That’s how I went scot free.
After two days, I stepped my feet into my family house once again. I was with Ginika. I wondered how she had coped at the police station. But when I asked her, she told me that she had stayed with a police officer and his family.
“Brother Rob did you kill anybody?” She asked with tears in her eyes. The question hit me hard. I looked at her and turned my face away. I went to the visitors room; it had been cleaned up. While at the hospital, I’d called on some cleaners to clear the place.
“No I didn’t; Ginika” I replied.
“They said somebody died in the house, who is the person?” She asked innocently. It wasn’t her fault tho, she always loved to remain indoors; in her room. So when she came back that fateful day, she had gone into her room and what’s where she stayed till the next day. I’d stocked up a lot of cereals for her there with a television stand, so nothing was bringing her out of the room except I was coming by 6am to wake her up for school or that she wanted to take a walk in the evening.
“Ginika Go into your room” I said, and she climbed upstairs.
For days, I couldn’t get myself; everything looked so confusing. It became more confusing when Tajudeen’s burial date was fixed and even more confusing when I received a video from a strange number; the same strange number.
Very similar to that of Tajudeen. I watched myself in a black attire being crushed to death by a vehicle. I was about crossing a busy express-way when it happened. I remembered the black attire, it was the one I planned to wear for Tajudeen’s burial & memorial service coming up in two days time.
My hands trembled as I watched and rewatched the video. This was the exact thing that led to Tajudeen’s death.
“Please who are you???!!! I don’t know you!!! Who are you?!!!” I replied the strange number.
But there was no reply, instead the person resent the video again. A video of myself being crushed to death in my black attire by a car.
I decided to skip the burial program. It was a painful decision to make but I had to do it despite the abuses and insults which I received from neighbors and friends who believed I was so close to Tajudeen and never expected me to miss such program. I skipped the program because I didn’t want to die. I didn’t attend Tajudeen’s burial.
That night, the same number texted me.
“You can’t cheat nature, you can’t escape death, if you try doing so, you will disrupt the timeline and complicate issues.”
I bit my lips in regret; I wished I’d called the police early enough, during the day time. Yes, I should have called them on time, because after an hour, I heard a continuous knock on my door. And then someone started breaking in, with a saw and hammer.