Chapter 5
1710 Words
Finn stepped closer. His voice cracked as he asked, “Mummy… why are you crying?”
At first, she didn’t respond—just rocked back and forth on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Then he heard her—barely a whisper at first, then louder, more desperate.
“No… no, if it’s true, then I will die too.”
His heart stopped.
He knelt down beside her, his own voice trembling. “Is Daddy… is he dead?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
Tears spilled from Finn’s eyes, hot and uncontrollable. But it wasn’t just grief—it was fear. Fear of what came next. The weight. The hunger. The house with no sound of a father’s voice.
He cried not just because he missed him—but because he knew.
It was all on him now.
Behind him, the front door opened.
Aunty Juliet stepped in with Tammy, both stopping short at the sight of the grieving room. Juliet’s hand went to her chest as she whispered, “Why now? Why him?”
She turned to the others. “He was the breadwinner… the only one holding this house together.”
Tammy stood beside her, still. No tears. But his face told the story—eyes glassy, jaw locked. He had lived most of his life outside this house, raised by Juliet. But even from a distance, the loss hit hard.
The neighbors surrounded Mercy, placing hands gently on her shoulder and back.
“Please… take heart.”
“Mercy, sorry oh. It’s not your fault.”
“Be strong. For your children.”
But the words felt like paper in a storm. Finn could still hear his mother’s sobs, echoing louder than anything else.
-----
Arlo stood by the window, arms folded, eyes scanning the sky like he was searching for something.
“I think the only way I can get that fine boy’s attention,” he said, half-smiling, “is to ask him to draw my portrait.”
Sandra, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked up sharply. “You know, the kind of things you’re starting to do… they disgust me.”
Arlo turned his head slowly, unbothered. “I’m proud of who I am. You’re my sister—not my owner.”
Sandra stood. “What if I tell Mum?”
That made Arlo pause for half a second.
“You know how much she believes in the church,” she said, lowering her voice. “You know how she sees people like you. If she finds out, it’ll break her. She might even reject you completely.”
Arlo gave a soft laugh—but it was hollow. “You forget—I’m a big boy. I don’t need anyone. My computer gigs are enough. I’ve got my own money.”
Sandra’s face softened. “I’m not against you, Arlo. I love you. I just… I don’t want to lose you. You think you’re free just because I accept you, but the world’s not that kind.”
He looked down at his hands, then back at her.
“If you love me,” he said, quietly, “you should care about what makes me happy. Not just what makes everyone else comfortable. But… yeah. About Mum—her reaction? That scares me.”
Sandra nodded slowly. “Okay. So… tell me more about him. And maybe I’ll help.”
A smile tugged at Arlo’s lips. “Now you’re talking.”
---
Elsewhere...
The room buzzed with low chatter—until Boss Man’s voice cut through like a blade.
“All of una dey here abi?” He stood in the middle, hands on his hips, scanning every face. “You all heard what’s going on in this community?”
The boys quieted, attention locked.
“They came for one boy,” Boss Man said, pacing slowly. “Finn. They want to kill him.”
From the back of the room, Elias straightened from where he had been lounging. His heart jumped, and for a moment, the blood left his face.
“Wait—what?” he blurted. “Where is he?”
Boss Man didn’t stop. “This is personal for me. That man—Finn’s father—once gave me food when I had nothing. You understand? When I was just a hungry nobody, he helped me. Now that man is gone.”
His voice hardened.
“We’re not letting that slide. We will fight for him. We will fight for that boy.”
He turned to the group, his expression deadly serious.
“And you all know—gun no fit kill me. Right?”
A few of the boys nodded. Others stayed frozen.
Boss Man raised his voice. “So now—let’s plan. Whoever did this, they’ll pay. Blood for blood.”
Elias clenched his fists beneath the table, his mind racing.
Finn’s in danger... and now Boss Man's about to start a war in his name.
-----
Tammy sat beside Finn on the edge of the bed, the room dim with late afternoon light leaking through the window. The air was heavy, still.
“So,” Tammy asked quietly, “what are you going to do now?”
Finn didn’t answer right away.
His eyes were red, rimmed with tears that had long since stopped falling, but left their mark.
“When everything settles,” he said hoarsely, “my mum will look straight at me. She’ll expect me to carry everything with the little I make from my drawings.”
Tammy looked at him, sympathy softening his features. “You draw, yeah… but what if you started learning tailoring? It could bring in something.”
Finn shook his head. “No. I hate that. It’s not for me.”
He wiped his face roughly with the back of his hand. “I want to learn computer stuff. Graphic design, maybe. Coding. There’s so much you can do online to make money. Something better than just drawing faces.”
From the corner of the room, Aunty Juliet nodded along, her eyes watery.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” she said softly. “I’m here for now. I’ll take care of you as best as I can. Ah… this pain. It cuts deep.”
She suddenly flinched and grabbed her chest, struggling to sit up straight.
“Tammy! Please bring water. She needs to take her medicine.”
Tammy jumped up, rushing out of the room.
Just then, there was a knock—then the door creaked open.
Elias stepped inside, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, face pulled tight with worry.
“Hey,” he said gently, eyes scanning the somber room. “I heard what happened. I’m really sorry. I just wanted to come and support you, whatever you need. How’s your mum?”
Tammy returned, setting a cup on the table. “She’s weak. Been crying all day. Barely speaking.”
Elias nodded, shifting awkwardly. “And you… are you his brother or just a friend?”
Tammy opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, another voice entered the room.
Jasper.
He stood in the doorway, breathless. “Finn… I just heard. I’m so sorry.”
Seeing all the familiar faces—Elias, Jasper, Tammy, Juliet—each of them staring back with concern, sympathy, and sadness... it was too much.
Every voice. Every look.
It brought his father’s death crashing back all over again.
He turned his face away, shoulders tight, blinking fast—but the sting in his chest only grew sharper.
---
Finn stood abruptly.
His breath was heavy, chest rising and falling, eyes filled with heat—not just from grief, but from being surrounded, watched, pitied.
Then, without holding back, he snapped.
“I don’t even want all of you around me! You’re all just too annoying!”
The words landed hard.
The room fell silent.
He didn’t wait for anyone to respond. He stormed off, disappearing into the next room. The door closed with a dull thud.
Tammy turned to the others and gave a small gesture—two fingers raised slightly, his eyes calm.
“Don’t mind him,” he said in a low tone. “He’s not himself. Not really.”
No one argued. They just sat there, still, wrapped in the weight of everything.
---
At the hospital…
The sunlight filtered through the blue-tinted window glass, casting a soft, cold hue over the room. The atmosphere felt strange—almost too quiet.
The patient—Paul’s apprentice—lay propped up against a pillow, his face pale, stitched where bruises had formed.
A detective stood near the bed, voice steady but firm. “Start from the beginning.”
The boy’s voice trembled. “I was at the shop, helping my oga… then some guys showed up. They said I owed them money.”
He paused, his hands shaking as he spoke. “I told them I didn’t have it… then they started beating me. After that—everything’s blurry. I don’t remember much else.”
Just as he reached that point, the door burst open.
Another officer barged in, face tense, fists clenched. “Talk! What did you do to him?! You stabbed him, didn’t you?!”
He rushed toward the bed, eyes burning with accusation.
The first officer stepped in, holding him back. “Hey—cool it. Not here. Not now.”
He pulled the agitated officer aside, whispering something too low for anyone else to hear. The newcomer was still breathing fast, like he’d just sprinted into the room.
A female officer stepped forward, folding her arms.
“I think this guy’s telling the truth,” she said calmly.
Another officer raised a brow. “How do you figure? He’s all we’ve got.”
She glanced back at the boy. “Then why was he beaten too? Look at him. He barely survived. I don’t think he even saw what happened.”
She looked around the room. “This case isn’t as clear as everyone thinks. We can’t just go off rumors.”
The lead officer nodded reluctantly. “He’s stable now. Let’s move him to the station. But gently. No pressure. Not until we know everything.”
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- Writer
