YOU WILL BE MY BANE

THE EXECUTION

A.

"Then why did she say that?" I ask you.

"See, she was obsessed with you. She couldn't eat without talking about you. She couldn't sleep without calling to ask where you live. I told her that she is too young for you but she said that girls her age in Northern Nigerian are getting married"

You say.

"So you told her that I am poor?" I ask you.

"Nope, I told her that you aren't ready for a relationship right now because you want to make more money. I never said you are poor" You say.

"Whatever" I say.

"I'm sorry man if she misunderstood me and made you feel less human. I hope we can talk about this later, I have to meet my friends. Again I am really sorry if Diana said those words to you" You say and I nod. You walk away.

I watch you enter your office and begin to put some stationery into your suitcase.

You have to meet your friends Yemi? I thought I was your bestest friend YEMI!

One minute you are calling me your bestest friend, the next, you are leaving to hangout with your friends. Lying must come so easily to you.

B.

"He has released another video. Wait, two hours ago? How are we just getting these updates now. He slept with a lecturer!" Barrister Ugochi squeals.

"Someone just tweeted that students have burned down the lecturer's car" Barrister Tope says.

"Oh no! His five month old baby was inside the car" Barrister Ifeoluwa mourns.

"Who leaves a five month old baby inside a car?" Barrister Larry asks.

I open Twitter and the gruesome videos of the lecturer's dead son is being retweeted many times.

Oh no!

He just slept with a man! He didn't kill anyone, his son didn't deserve to die like this!

I scroll through the feed and my heart bleeds. His wife is threatening to take away everything he has. She is broken but he is broken more.

I see a video of him sitting on a chair with his eyes looking into the distance like one in a trance. Tears are trickling down the sides of his eyes.

"What do you think he is thinking of right now?" Someone comments under the video.

"The next boy to sleep with of course!" Someone else responds.

"He was such a nice lecturer and never collected bribes neither did he try to sleep with the female students in exchange for marks. To think he has this deadly demon in him? Good Lord!" Someone tweets under the picture of the accused lecturer.

"Well, I guess now we know why he never got involved in s*x for grades then! He likes them hard" someone else tweets and people comment and laugh under the tweet.

Horrible and gut wrenching memes of him are shared online. It seems like no one cares that his son was just burnt to death by homophobes.

I have to leave this country, I have to run away from here. Even if it is Ghana, I can go there and start anew as a painter.

I can live out my days happily without worrying about loving either male nor female.

Love is a dangerous disease and I just learnt that the hard way.

Although I am almost drowning now, I don't regret anything anymore. I don't regret meeting you nor falling for you.

At least now, I know how it rightly feels to be attracted to someone, however twisted my attraction to you is.

The night that I dreamed of you for the first time made me to realize something; I'm not cursed. I'm not drawn to darkness. I'm just a boy in love. We are humans, we can't help who we love. if it were easier to choose who we fall in love with, life would lose all of it's flavor and diversity.

And if I tell myself that I don't feel anything for you now, I will be the biggest liar. It is hard, nigh impossible to totally extinguish a love that once burned so bright.

I have to get out of here, even if I don't leave the country, I can move to a remote village and hide. Obudu mountains is a tourist site but it is well hidden. I can hide in plain sight.

I can draw and sell my landscapes to tourists. I look at you one last time as you stand in your office, arranging files and checking your watch occasionally. You still look as stunning as ever, I look at your dark red lips and I wonder if they taste as good as they look.

I pray that I will dream about you sometimes. I pray to dream of your fragile smile, the black metallic sheen of your skin, that unavoidable adventurous look in your eyes that disarms and draws me in.

This is torture- wanting you and yet scared that I might die if you find out just how much I desire you. I can't continue to do this to myself.

I look at my legs and I swallow hard.

"I'm okay. I'm fine" I tell myself. I wiggle my toes inside my shoes and slowly the feeling to my legs returns.

I stand up and stagger to my desk. I clear my browser and search histories. I clear my cache and park my Thanos Bobble head into my black backpack.

I pick up my backpack and stagger towards the elevator. I turn around again to take one last look at you and I feel a gut wrenching pain in my chest. I know that It is not a physical pain but it's effect was more physical than psychological.

C.

I call up the elevator and it dings. The door opens and as I make to walk in, I hear a gruesome cry.

"Oh gosh! Kingsley is dead!" Barrister Tope screams. I stop in my track. I turn back and head towards the open office.

"Turn up the TV" You say as you rush out of your office.

"Breaking news..." the burly male Anchor reappears.

"A disturbing video containing the horrific killing of Mr Kingsley Asiwaju was sent to different media houses across the country and our studio got a copy. For reasons of decency and legality, we cannot show the video here but check our website and social media handles.

"Mr. Kingsley was abducted in his Lekki apartment by unknown gunmen and tortured severely before being killed, execution style" The Anchor drones one.

"They can show blurry images of two men kissing but they can't show us an ordinary clip of the execution of this idiotic faggot?" Barrister Larry rages.

I sit back down and stare at the screen. Kingsley's picture is flashing around. He looks handsome and very happy.

He was once 'normal' like me. A sweet computer geek who loves Sci-fi movies, books and men. Oh well, normal is relative.

Who knows what his story was? Who knows how many times he was judged and he snapped?

He might have been a sweet little geek who had hidden a part of himself for so long that he snapped.

Everyone is a saint and no one sins. It is okay to commit a sin as long as it is committed the same way we do it.

Everyone steals but when one person is being singled out for stealing, we beat and burn him. Everyone lies but when we catch people in their lies we condemn and brand them bad and untrustworthy.

Everyone likes s*x and many people Indulge in it frequently but we treat those who are caught in the act or those whose s*x stories are made public as sinners.

We spit at them and throw "Can never be me" around.

Eventually, we will all become villains in our individual stories. It is only a matter of time, the wrong moment and a ridiculous amount of pressure.

Kingsley might have been a nice little geek who nursed a dark predilection towards men. He might have lived in fear for too long and had endured countless insults and ignored several snide comments.

Who knew the last straw that broke the camel's back? Who knew what happened that sent him down this dark road.

Then it dawns clearly on me, I and Kingsley might not have been that different. We might not have been that opposite as I thought.

I begin to wonder how long it will be before I snap.

I open my Twitter and I check the Nigerian trend table. The execution video of Kingsley is trending. I swallow hard and tap on one of the videos.

I see Kingsley kneeling with his hands behind his head and surrounded by five hooded figures all wearing Dali masks and holding AK 47 riffles.

Kingsley's once chubby face is now seriously mishapen like one suffering from an allergic reaction to a bee sting.

Blood is dripping occasionally out of his mouth and it is blatantly obvious that he is shivering.

Bruises are covering his entire skin and if not for the tiny boxer clinging firmly to his nethers, he would have been naked.

One of the men bends towards Kingsley's ear and whispers to him. Kingsley clears his throat. He seems parched. He begins to speak in low tunes. They kick him on the head and he falls forward, hitting his head on the floor.

They drag him up again.

He has a large gash on his head. Blood flows from the head wound and down to his face. He coughs and wheezes.

One of the men whispers to him again and he nods readily and clears his throat.

"Hy, my name is Kingsley and the list...the list..." Kingsley stammers and tries to look at the men behind him. They seem to urge him on and he continues.

"I want to state that the list I published was wrong. The names there are all wrong. I just lied against innocent people. I am a shameless...a shameless...." He hesitates again and one of the hooded men hits the butt of his gun on Kingsley's head and he screams and gulps in air several times.

They seem to urge him on and he continues.

"I am a shameless faggot who doesn't deserve to live. I am sorry for the pains I caused..." He says and before he can turn to look at them, the huge masked man behind him pulls the trigger and Kingsley's brains fly towards the camera.

I yelp and switch off my phone. My heart begins to race and the shaking in my extremities return.

I look around the firm and people are seriously shaken.

"Damn! That was dark!" Barrister Larry says.

"He had it coming" You say apathetically.

I look at you and I see darkness, anger, fear, hatred exuding from you.

Why are you this angry at gays? Uncle Brutus's death really destroyed you. You may not know it but you are like every adult out there; grown, testy and full of childhood issues.

Uncle Brutus's death cut you deeper than you let on.

Yemi, what I don't understand is that in cases like yours, the boys usually grow up fighting to protect those who are like their dead loved one. Why is the case reversed in yours?

Why have you become the hate that took away your love and innocence at a very young age?.

"Son of a b***h! In his next life, I hope he makes better choices" You add and walk towards your office, pissed and mumbling.

I place my head on my palms as my heart becomes a battle ground. A part of me wants to hurt you so bad that It will hurt me too but a part me still sees you as the little boy who lost someone he loved very much and had to adopt a coping mechanism to survive.

A dangerous coping mechanism called hate.

As much you are in my mind, another thought keeps tugging at me. One that I have been putting off for a while, one that has grown tentacles and is pulling on my senses.

Who sent the 'unknown gunmen?' that killed Kingsley?

Kingsley messed with powerful people and got a deadly reckoning. I know that for sure. Could it be Chief Olu's people?

Is this what that raspy-breathing-personal assistant meant by "We will take care of him when we see him?"

Have they eventually 'taken care' of it execution style?

Even if it wasn't Chief Olu's people, one thing remains clear;

Somewhere out there, someone is with my supposed sextape.

Suddenly, my panic attack returns!.