Molly sat alone on her bed, reading her soon to be favorite author’s novel, David Baldacci’s The Hour Game. She turned the final page with a huge smile, satisfactied at the fact that she was finally able to finish the novel. Turning, she checked the time, it was ten minutes past 1. She was about to go to bed when she heard a knock on the door.
‘Now who could be here at this ungodly hour?’ she wondered.
Her husband had travelled for business two days ago and wouldn’t be back for three more days. She decided to ignore the knock and tried to snuggle back into bed but it came again, this time, a little louder than before. Molly sat up straight.
‘Who in God’s name could that be!?’
She got up from bed, tied her robe and wore her slippers. She got to her bedroom door, opened it and headed downstairs to the front door, where the sound had come from. She opened it to see that no one was there. Then the knock came again. It seemed to come from the store room. Opening it, she found out it was totally dark. She couldn’t see anything but she could hear a faint voice.
‘Help me. Please… someone… anyone, help me’.
Molly turned on the light and saw a bloodied young man who should be in his mid-twenties. His left eye was swollen shut and his upper lip was cracked as fresh blood oozed out of it. There was a trail of blood towards the door from where he had dragged himself on broken legs to knock, using hands that were completely bruised and fingers that were almost broken.
‘So it was you?’ she said, looking at him disgustedly.
He looked down at floor, dejected. He had hoped that her husband would be back. How had something that was supposed to be a few days of fun turn out this way?
‘I didn’t know you could still move after everything I did to you’.
She pushed him lightly and he fell helplessly to the floor. She laughed hysterically.
‘You thought you could blackmail me into giving you thousands of Naira? You jammed the wrong woman’.
‘Please… I’m so…rry’.
She laughed again.
‘I want to get some sleep this night. I’ve already decided to take care of you tomorrow’. Then her face turned cold. ‘Don’t make me do it tonight’.
She turned, switched off the light and left the store. Climbing back upstairs to the comfort of her bed while the faint sobs of a sad man were muffled by the closed door.