The Guardian Demon

Brave:Part 1

“Your friend is a witch doctor?” A bearded man asks his teary-eyed son.

“No, his father was, but mom told me they killed him and now he’s alone. No one knows where he is.”

The guilt tears him up from the inside, his pain wringing tears from his soul.

“Baba, I killed my friend’s father!”

The bearded man looks at his snivelling son, his face twisted in mild disgust.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Hmm?” The boy asks from underneath his hands not sure whether he heard him correctly.

“I know you like Julia, I have seen how you look at her when you are playing, with him out of the way, she’s all yours, isn’t she?”

The boy looks at his father. This has to be a test of some sort.

“But it isn’t right, I’m the reason he’s not around anymore, he was my friend. And just because he is not around doesn’t mean Julia will start liking me.”

“There are ways to make women love you, just as there are ways to get anything you want. Good things don’t come to those who wait or to those who are good, good things come to those who are strong enough to take them,” his father says. He was serious.

“But I can’t even talk to her, not after what I did to Matt.”

“You have to stop being such a child, how old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“I think it is about time you started living with me so that I could teach you some things.”

“In Nairobi? What about Joe, will he come with us?”

“No, Joe isn’t old enough yet.”

“Then I don’t want to go, I don’t want to leave him here, mom will beat him like she beats me.”

“This is not a debate, when he is ready, he will join us, but for the time being he will stay here with your mother.”

“But mom is heartless, I don’t want him to go through what I did.”

“Just do what I say or your mother will be the least of your concerns. Go pack your bags.”

#And that was the last day of my childhood.

A door opens Brian’s father steps through it. He is holding two suitcases. Brian follows behind him.

“Is this where we will live?”

It is a posh house, even more elegant than their house in the village, the biggest and most beautiful of all the houses there.

“Yes.”

Brian’s father goes to another room and comes back without the suitcases.

“I want you to accompany me somewhere.”

“Okay.”

They exit the house, get into a car and drive off.

They get to a street alley and Brian’s father stops the car. He tells Brian to move to the back seat. Someone comes jogging from behind and opens the front passenger door. He climbs in, sits and closes the door.

“Merry Christmas, boss. Oh wait, that’s already passed so, happy new year I guess? It gets quite chilly at night around here, doesn’t it?”

He sees Brian in the back seat.

“Hi, how are you?”

He shakes the boy’s hand.

“That’s my son. It’s his first day living in the city.”

“The son of the king, that makes him a prince, right? Preparing him to take over the business? He looks to be about my daughter’s age. How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“Exactly her age, if your father sends you to the same school she goes, I will tell her to be your friend, okay?”

“Okay.”

“He will make me very proud one day,” Brian’s father steps in, “speaking about the business, I hear two million shillings worth of drugs was missing from your quota.”

“We were robbed, I reported that to the collector, right? I mean your stuff is so good that someone was crazy enough to rob you. We caught him though, but the merchandise had already gone with the wind.”

“You caught him? I guess it’s fine then. Did you interrogate him, to try to know where he took it?”

“The thing is, he resisted, he was armed, we had to… “

He points at Brian’s father with his first two fingers and his thumb extended, then he suddenly reels his forearm backwards.

“Okay, I guess it’s fine. What’s a million shillings or two when we are making billions,” Brian’s father says.

“Right?”

The man makes himself comfortable and looks forward into the black void that the car’s headlights are vainly illuminating.

“Congratulations on buying that new car by the way,” Brian’s father says casually.

The man freezes and his mouth slightly opens.

“I haven’t told anyone about that.”

“I bet your wife and daughter were shocked to see it. I know I was.”

Brian’s father opens one of the compartments in the front of the car and produces a g*n. He places it on the dashboard.

Brian’s eyes widen, he had never seen a real g*n before.

“What is that for, we are all friends here.”

“Oh, this? As you said, it gets chilly at night and what’s warmer than a freshly fired g*n?”

Brian’s father points at him with his first two fingers and his thumb extended, then he suddenly reels his forearm backwards.

“Right?”

The man starts fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat.

“It’s quite late, my family is waiting for me. They cannot do anything without me. Please, let me go.”

“Why are you begging, I haven’t accused you of anything, have I?”

“Please, we will move out of the country. Imagine what would happen to your son if you didn’t come home one day.”

“He wouldn’t even notice, I am barely in his life as it is, since I’m always here in the city working, only to have people steal from me.”

The man’s breathing is audible to Brian in the back seat.

“Does your wife work?” Brian’s father asks in a tone more striking than the imminent gunshot.

“No, she’s a high-school dropout, she doesn’t have any skills, that’s why I have to go home. You can take my right hand or both of my legs but please let me live, not for my own sake but my family’s. They will starve without me.”

“I know they will, I was just making sure that you do too.”

BANG!

Brian jumps at the sound. He’s not sure what just happened. He looks to the right and sees his father holding a smoking g*n. He looks to the left and sees… he sees… red, gushing, raw… Death. He feels something swell in his stomach, it fills his chest so he can’t breathe. He consciously forces breath into his lungs, when it’s work is done it doesn’t leave so he has to push it out himself. He can’t think. He feels stiff. One of his forced breaths escapes as a whimper. He can cry. His whole being clings onto this emotional straw and he bawls.

Brian’s father takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes some red spots from his face. He looks to the back seat at his crying son and he reaches his hand out to caress his head to comfort him.

“Sssh, you had to witness that so that I could give you your first lesson. A lesson on the worst hindrance to life.”

“Fear.”

“Nothing is sacred, nothing is special, nothing is untouchable, therefore, nothing is frightening. He stole from me, so I killed him. I will not be punished if no-one finds out. His family will starve without him and it’s all his fault. What is there to fear? God won’t do anything and neither will the devil. I know because this is not the first time, and neither will it be the last.”

He pauses to watch the boy cry. He realises that he is afraid.

“Sssh, don’t worry my son, I won’t hurt you, I will only make you stronger, fearless, so that you may become a better man than I will ever be.”

The boy briefly takes his hands away from his face and catches a glimpse of him smiling, the smile of a father who loves his son.

#And that was my first lesson.

#He sent me to a nearby day school for my high school education, so that when school ended the lessons began.

#He taught me how to shoot.

There’s a teenager and a bearded man aiming at shooting targets with a variety of guns they have laid next to them.

#He taught me how to fight.

There’s a teenager twisting the arm of a larger man as the bearded man looks on.

#He taught me how to lead.

There’s a teenager in tattered uniform leading the charge against some police officers.

#But he couldn’t teach me how to be like him. He couldn’t teach me how to be a psychopath.

There’s a teenager with a swollen eye and blood at the corner of his mouth. He is looking over an unconscious man lying on the floor who has a broken arm and leg and blood pouring from several wounds on his face.

“Good, now kill him.”

A bearded man behind the teenager hands him a g*n. The teenager looks at the g*n and then at the man who is lying in front of him. He aims the g*n at his head but his hand is shaking. The g*n slowly starts lowering as if gradually becoming heavier. It finally hangs at the end of his weak drooping arms, his fingers barely keeping it from dropping to the floor. The bearded man takes the g*n from his hands and shoots the unconscious man in the head.

“Clean it up,” the man says and walks away.

#So, I tried to escape…

There’s a teenager in dirty and tattered clothes sitting on the side of a street, he is emaciated. Two men show up and beat him up. They drag him away and present him in a kneeling position and in front of his father.

# …In more ways than one.

There’s a teenager in a dark room. He struggles to maintain his balance on the unstable pile of books and other odd things holding him up. His right hand reaches up and pulls at the collar of his shirt to ease the itch of the noose around his neck.

#Until I realized the only way to ever be free of him is to get strong enough to take him out myself.

“I think democracy works. People vote for the people who they are satisfied with and they look after the needs of the people as appointed.”

There’s a teenager whose face is showing the signs of a beard sitting across the table from a bearded man who is reading a newspaper. They seem to be having breakfast.

“Ha-ha, dear boy, take a napkin and wipe your face, your mother’s milk still drips from the corner of your mouth. Democracy works? Idiots vote for idiots and then those idiots are expected to look after everyone’s needs? What do you think a leader is?”

“Someone who guides people towards a collective goal, helping them become a better version of themselves.”

“And you think democracy achieves that? You think the most popular person is also the most visionary and the most responsible? You think that the herd of sheep that constitute most of the population knows how to differentiate between a loud man and a visionary? Look at me for example, I have been trading drugs for 10 years. Anyone who is anyone knows that I’m the King, but do they do anything about it?”

“But if those visionaries, as you call them, are so good then why aren’t they approved by the people?”

“Are you asking me why an engineer doesn’t go bragging about his accomplishments, are you asking me why a philanthropist doesn’t parade all the people he has helped in his entourage? Because that is not what they do, they are not politicians, they are leaders. If someone has the capacity in them to do something they will not wait until a majority of the society agrees that he can do it. Giving control of billions to the most popular i***t will not change a thing, but a singular man with a vision can accomplish wonders. What democracy does is to solve the problem literally, it gives leaders only in the sense that a leader is someone who leads people. Lead them to where? It doesn’t care. As long as the masses have a person they recognize in front of them, they think they have what they wanted until they start crying in the middle of the leader’s term about how wrong they were.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“You don’t need a following to be a leader, only a vision. Democracy turns this upside down. It makes people who are visionary but don’t have a following work extra trying to get one. They burn themselves out looking for an accessory instead of empowering themselves with the necessary skills and resources to realize their visions. The masses aren’t important.”

#Matthew would have agreed with me.

A knock comes from the door.

“Come in, it’s open,” the young man shouts. He usually let everyone in. He had this fantasy that one of his father’s enemies would come seeking revenge one day and kill them both. If wishes were horses.

The door opens. It’s a boy of around thirteen. He walks in dragging a suitcase behind him.

“He just turned thirteen so I told his mother to send him here. Do you remember how badly you wanted him here when I told you to come? Well, here he is.”

Brian’s eyes flit over the boy and for a split second, they become glazed over with tears before drying into thirsty sand.

He looks at his father without saying a word to his brother.

“Are you going to t*****e him as you did me?”

The man looks into his son’s eyes and admires the fire burning behind them.

“t*****e? You mean empower? If he is my son, then I have to.”

He was almost dead, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something other than anger and hopelessness. He can’t save himself but he has to save his brother. He doesn’t deserve this. He pulls away from the table and goes to greet his brother with as much false glee as he could muster.

#To make sure Joe understood what our father was, I warned him about what he was going to do to him.

“Do you understand?”

Joe’s eyes are wide in terror, his mouth aghast.

#And to make sure our father wouldn’t get the opportunity, I made sure we were always together, always dodging opportunities for him to shoot people in our presence, or order us to hack someone to death.

The two brothers are leaving school together, shooting things together and sparring with each other.

#And it seemed to be working.

“Why doesn’t dad wear a crown or something, since they already call him King?” The younger brother asks over the sound of explosions from the video game they are playing.

“You’d wear a crown if you were him?”

“Nah, a crown is too basic. I’d wear a lion’s head, you know coz the lion is the king of the jungle?”

“What? That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard,” Brian shouts over the sound of simulated gunshots.

“Oh, it gets dumber; It would be made out of solid gold. God knows dad can afford it. I think it would be fitting for a man of his stature, wouldn’t it?”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, literally. I mean you would require a neck brace to make sure you didn’t break your neck from just trying to stay upright for a full minute.”

“What would you do then, wear one made from styrofoam?”

“I wouldn’t need one because I don’t want anything to do with his d**g empire.”

“You don’t? But it’s almost like he’s priming you to take over.”

“I don’t care what he is doing, I’m just biding my time for the perfect opportunity to get out and disappear. Besides, I’m pretty sure that he wants to train you for the ‘family business’ too, speaking of which, has he asked you to accompany him on a stroll or a ride somewhere?”

“Why do you keep asking me that, it’s already been a year, I don’t think he is going to kill someone in front of me.”

“Sorry, I was just making sure.”

#Something is not right.

“But if he did, I don’t think I would mind.”

“You wouldn’t mind him killing someone in front of you?”

“I wouldn’t mind him caring enough about me to try to make me stronger. Hell, if he wanted me to be the next King, I think I would do whatever I could to make him proud.”

“Let’s hope that’s just your childish naivety talking because believe me, that’s not a life you want to live.”

The lower half of the screen turns red. The words, ‘You died’ appear.

“Matthew was a much better challenger than you,” Joe says, claiming his victory.

“You still remember him?”

“How could I forget, his name is still at the top of the leaderboards of my console at home.”

“By the way, have you ever tried some of dad’s drugs?” The younger brother says after a while.

“No, and I hope you haven’t either. People who use that stuff are stupid fun-chasers who are too weak to take control of their own lives and would rather live in a d**g-induced fantasy instead of face their problems.”

“Wow, you sound more and more like him every day.”

“Don’t even joke about that. Just make sure you aren’t alone with him, ever.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“The time you won’t be able to sleep for a week because he told you to get rid of a disembodied body is when you’ll realize you can’t.”

#But he had tried the drugs, and he loved them.

“Hurry up, we’ll be late!”

Brian shouts and then puts a bottle of water in a bag and then opens another bag adjacent to it to do the same but he notices something in it. He puts his hand in and produces a plastic pouch filled with white powder.

“Shit.”

The curse comes from across the room. Joe has a towel around his waist, his wet hair is in clumps on his head with water still running down his body.

“What the hell man!” Brian says, his eyes wide as if he hadn’t seen a billion similar pouches before.

“It’s not like I’m addicted or anything okay, it’s just for fun,” Joe says shrugging his shoulders.

“Just for fun? How stupid can you get? That’s the most cliché thing I have ever had. Are you going to put it in your autobiography? ‘I got into drugs just for fun and before I knew it-’ “

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“I don’t? Then how is it that you don’t understand how bad this stuff is? Have you seen the kind of people it is sold to on the streets?”

“I’m the son of the king. I’m a prince, that will never happen to me.”

#Is this what happens when you shield someone from reality? They take their security for granted to the point that they think they’re invincible?

“You are proud to be the son of a psychopathic d**g lord? Do you know what he will do to you if he finds out you have this? Because I’m pretty sure you didn’t buy it from one of his vendors. He will gouge out one of your eyes and make you eat it.”

“Why are you always so dramatic, I have never even seen him kick a cat.”

“It’s because I protect you from him, you stupid i***t!”

The door suddenly opens. Brian quickly stuffs the pouch into his bag.

Their father’s head appears through the door.

“Brian, come with me for a bit.”

“We have to go to the shooting range; we have an appointment.”

“This is more important.”

Brian puts the bag with the pouch on his back and gets out. Joe throws his hands at him as he leaves.