She Dies - Season 1 - Episode 23

Episode 5 years ago

She Dies - Season 1 - Episode 23

☆☆☆☆☆

The raunchy storey building apartment was in
the outskirts of Suanda and was surrounded
by palms and hibiscus. It was an apartment
Reagan had hired for what he called
exigencies. No one knew the owner of the
apartment for Reagan was never seen in it.
Whenever he wanted to use the house, he
came in unnoticed and left without been
spotted. It was in this apartment that Reagan
dealt with his victims. He had a secret burial
ground at the backyard where he buried those
he murdered in the apartment. He took joy in
killing in the apartment for the pleasure he
derived in watching and chortling as he slowly
maimed and killed his victims. He did that
upstairs at exactly 2:00AM, in the quietude of
the night, to avoid attracting attention. He
would tie his victim to a chair and wrap thick
sellotape over his mouth to stop him from
making a sound. He would take out a dagger,
stab him on one shoulder and watch him
struggle. Then he would step back, take a
stick of cigarette from the pack on the table
and light it. He would drag on the cigarette
for a while and move to his victim again. He
would then press the burning tip hard on the
victim’s bleeding shoulder, laugh as the victim struggled to wail and stab him on the other shoulder, repeating what he had done to the first.


Then taking out a gun from a drawer, he
would leave a bullet in his victim’s knee joints before finally burying a bullet in his brain.


After the victim had died, he would carry him
downstairs, then to the backyard for a funeral.
At the backyard, he would dig a grave, push
the corpse into it, cover it properly with sand
and finally kneel with tears and pray, “Oh God, hold not his sins on my head and if you find him worthy, accept him in your goddamn
b---m.” Then he would disappear from the
apartment.

Reagan sat on a couch in the large lounge
upstairs, his eyes fixed on Stella. She was
lying unconscious on the next couch. She was
the most attractive lady he had ever seen.

Even unconscious, Stella looked like an Indian
goddess. Reagan started running his eyes up
and down her and was thankful he hadn’t
killed her. He concentrated on Stella’s laps.

She was wearing blue shorts. Her laps were
lovely and they dazzled him. He remembered
the taxi that had stopped him from killing her
and concluded it was Godsend. He would use
her over and over and then get rid of her. He
didn’t give a d--n about what he had told
Thelda. After all, he was still going to kill
Stella but not until he had savoured her
beautiful body to quench his lust. He
visualized what it would be like stripping her
Unclad and the sizzling effect her body would
have on his. He imagined his thick hands
caressing her small but firm b-----s, his dark
lips hard on hers, his huge body pressed to
hers and he had an erection. He was aware
Stella wasn’t going to give in without a fight
but he was already prepared for her. He rose,
stood for a while and moved slowly toward
her, considering whether to start immediately
or leave it till she regained consciousness.

After some minutes of thoughts, he decided to
endure until she was awake for it would be
more pleasurable then. She was already his,
body and soul, so no need to hurry. Just a
matter of some couple of minutes, he thought,
and she would be awake and in his arms. He
made up his mind that after those minutes
and she wasn’t still awake, he would force her back to consciousness. He knew how best to do that. He had brought a good number of his victims back to consciousness for the same
purpose. Whatever he wanted, he got, and no
one stopped him. He smiled, moved his eyes
to Stella’s left wrist and his attention was
caught by the golden bangle on it. It was a
replica of the one his foster mother wore on
her right wrist the very day she had sent him
to hell. He turned his gaze to his fingers,
stared back at the bangle on Stella’s wrist
and long buried memories came crashing
back.


It was on his tenth birthday. Reagan had
come back from school an hour late for he
had followed a friend to an apartment in the
city for burglary. When he entered their
compound, he found Jane, her foster mum,
already waiting for him in the veranda and
immediately knew he was in trouble. Her eyes
gleamed with rage and Reagan’s legs
instantly became heavy that he couldn’t move them. He was conscious of what always
followed whenever Jane was provoked. The
thought of her thin but strong hands that
would in some minutes surround his neck or
the weapon she would probably use on him
made him jittery and tears immediately welled
up in his eyes. Jane never gave him chance to
explain himself. She had the habit of not
wanting to know if Reagan was right or wrong.


Once she was angry, she soothed her anger on Reagan’s misery. She was a misanthrope and always showed it in the way he treated
Reagan at the slightest provocation. What
Reagan wasn’t sure of as he stood there was whether Jane was going to use her hands on him or resort to weapons. He was afraid to walk up the steps and his heart went
pounding. He was fighting hard to think but it
was useless. Conflicting thoughts churned
inside him. Jane was already reading his
mind, she knew he was thinking.

“Come over here, you brat!” She roared.

Reagan knew the implication if he remained a
second longer, so he leapt up the stairs
immediately and stood in front of her with
blind terror. He looked up at Jane and met her
eyes, they were cold and he began to shake.

“Where the hell have you been?” She snapped with arms akimbo.

Reagan stuttered, “I w e n t,” and a hard slap landed on his cheek. He felt his eyes bulge in their sockets and tears ran down his cheeks.

Jane held his ear and dragged him into the
sitting room. She pushed him violently to the
floor, her golden bangle falling off her right
wrist and Reagan’s right elbow dripping
blood, “Give me that bangle, you devil.” She
shouted and Reagan immediately picked it
with two shaking fingers and handed it to her.
She took it quickly, avoiding contact with his
fingers as if he had a leprous hand. She
swirled the bangle and slid her wrist into it.

Her eyes were deadly as he stared at Reagan,
contemplating how she was going to handle
him. Reagan was already imagining the blood
from every part of his body that would soon
be splashing onto the floor. He didn’t know
what Jane was going to do to him but he
knew it would be revolting and he also knew
that by the time Jane would be done with him,
his looks would not be the same again. As he
stared fearfully at her, he wished his mother
had not abandoned him in the foster home for
the beast. Jane smirked and pulled on his
hair, “Where the hell have you been, you
monster?”

Reagan thought quickly for a lie, “I went to
see a friend for a birthday present”

She pulled his hair harder and Reagan cried.

After several pull, she left him on the floor and
went over to the couch. She sat, her eyes on
Reagan, “Did I ever mention there was no
birthday in this house?” A weird look was on
her face.

Reagan nodded sickly, “You did.” He wiped his tears with his palms.

Jane smirked and folded her arms, “And you
decided to disobey me?”

Reagan choked out, “No ma, I_”