Victims of fear
Part 1: This is a true story. It is my experience and I thought it is one I should share.
It all began in the night, with a single scream. A scream of fear; the fear of the death. I was in my room, sleeping, my sister also lost in her dreams when we heard it. I woke with a start, my veins pulsating rapidly. I ran to the palour to find the source, my sister close behind. Life was in a matter of seconds.
They were everywhere. Their guns pointed erect at one target: my father. He stood by the door of his room, tears trickling down his eyes. My sister screamed then they saw us. ‘’On the ground, now!’’ yelled one of them. He held a crowbar with a look of hunger in his eyes. This was a robbery.
We were on the ground, held at gun point. Our bodies were jammed fast to the frigid tiles as sweat dribbled down our ebony skins. ‘’Where is the money?’’ the leader asked with a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. The others started rummaging the house looking for anything valuable. It was a frantic search as they toppled over the furniture and anything in their path. ‘’I’ve only got ₦25,000; I keep my money in the bank. Please don’t kill us, I beg you in the name of God!!’’ My father cried pleading for mercy as he gave the money to the thief.
‘’Only ₦25,000, with all the information we heard from you?’’ The leader yelled. As my body started shivering with fear, my brain told me that there was an inside man on this operation. This was no random attack. My mother and my sister stayed still, their body covered in sweat. I heard a faint whisper from them ‘’God please help us. Don’t leave us alone’’
After they felt contented with their plunder, they locked us in the toilet saying they were going to the next house and any noise or movement we made, would mean sudden death. We sat their quietly with no noise but the sobs of my sister and the whispers of my mother. I had thought it was over until I heard the banging of hands on wood. The traumatic experience was only beginning.





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