Diary of a pastor’s son - S01 E18

1 year ago

Diary of a pastor’s son - S01 E18

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 18

“Please, don’t kill me. I’m the only son of my parents,” I beckoned to him.

“Oh! Really?” He laughed.

“Yes,” I answered inaudibly.

“Well, I don’t have a family,” he said, still pointing the gun to my head. I kept rubbing my hands in tears. But he seemed unbothered with the tears in my eyes.

“My parents died 15 years ago,” he busted.

“Plea—please, don’t kill me,” I stammered.

“Where is your phone?”

“It’s not with me.”

“Do you think I’m joking with you? I’ll blow off your head right now,” he thundered angrily.

“I’m not lying to you. I don’t have it here,” I said, raising my two hands in the air. My heart still beating faster. He did the searching and soon found out I was telling him nothing but the truth.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you…”

However, he couldn’t finish what he was going to say before someone hit him from behind. A long wood had landed on his head, causing him to yell in pain while he fell flat on the ground. I wasn’t able to see who was behind him.

The only thing that crossed my mind was to run. I didn’t hesitate to take on my heels without looking back. My heart still pounding faster.

It was dark and I could barely see the road. I kept running as my strength could carry me—not minding whatever I stepped on. My goal was to come out of the tarred road. But before I could get to the tarred road, a flash of light fell in my direction. It was oblivious to the light from a car. I halted so I don’t end up colliding with the car.

“Femiii,” someone yelled from the direction of the car. The voice was that of my sister, Shola. I heaved a big sigh of relief knowing I was finally saved from danger. “Where have you been?” queried my father as he lowered the windscreen and popped out his head. I reached the car, Shola already opened the back side, and I went in and shut it, heaving another loud sigh of relief.

“What is it? What happened? And who is after you?” Mom queried in one breath. She was in the front seat while Shola, Agatha, and I sat in the back seat.

“Every other person went and returned, but you got there and nobody saw you again. Who is chasing after you?” asked my father? He then reversed the car in the direction that led to our apartment.

“They almost killed me,” I finally said, still breathing heavily.

“Who and who?” asked my mom.

“I don’t know them. They had a real gun. I think two groups of bad boys had a clash. I saw a dead body too,” I said and paused.

“A dead body?” Shola turned and looked me in the face.

“Yes, a dead body.”

“Where did this thing happen?” my father asked.

“Around that neighborhood where the church rented instruments.”

“So how did you escape? You said they had a gun with them?”

“Yes. They did. It was only God that saved me. One of them almost shot me,” I said.

“Thank your stars I’m still with your phone. I’m sure by now you would have given it to them,” my father said and giggled. I didn’t utter a word. I simply exhaled.

As we drove back home, I went on narrating my ordeal; I continued telling them how I’d have been a dead person if not for the unknown fellow that saved my life. “God still wants to use you Femi. Make up your mind and follow him wholeheartedly,” said my father. I didn’t say anything. I still suffered from the shock of the attack.

He went on to preach more on the need for total repentance and coming back to God who had saved my life. He further added that God had a reason for saving my life. “Femi, God has given you another chance to live. Utilize it!” He said.

He finally drove into our apartment. We alighted from the car and when I checked my wristwatch, it was 11:10 pm. It was the middle of the night, the moon was illuminated, and the environment was so quiet you could almost hear the wind.

***

When everyone had gone to bed, I overheard my father from the bathroom arguing with mom, so I had to stop whatever I was doing there to hear what they were saying.

“We can’t afford to send him to school yet. Femi needs to change his ways first before anything,” I heard my father say. I was puzzled.

“He could still change when he gets to the University. How long do you want him to stay in this house before leaving for the University?” my mom countered. I was glad she was on my side. I knew I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but this was about me and I couldn’t withstand not hearing every single thing they discussed.

“I know, but the idea is to make him change. Let him work on himself first here in the house before going out there to meet different caliber of people.” My father sounded like he was upset.

“Femi loves God just as much as we do. Nothing could lead him astray, Nothing. I have prayed about it and I think we should just let him get going on time. He is our only son,” said my mom, still backing me up.

“You’ll not argue with me. Femi has to change before anything else. He needs to go back to God!” my father lamented.

There was a moment of horrible silence.

My father said something after that, but I couldn’t hear it because he said it inaudibly. I waited to hear more from the duo but nothing was forthcoming. I turned on the tap from the bathroom, and put my face up in the shower to clear my mind as the water dripped on my entire face.

That night, as I lay in bed, I pondered what exactly my father wanted from me.

***

After breakfast the following day, I told my father I want to go back to Ibadan but he asked me to put that decision on hold.

“Femi, what is important now is your relationship with God. I can’t even give you a go-ahead concerning school this year until I see changes in your spiritual life.” He said.

“Ahh, but my mates are already in their first year,” I said, trying to counter him. “There are no mates in pursuit of destiny. Some of your mates are equally in the grave,” he said.

“But….”

“Femi, no but. Till I see changes in your life, then I’ll decide if you are buying Jamb form or not,” he said to my discomfort, and then stretched my phone in my direction.

“Finally,” I said to myself.

He then walked towards the door and left.

When he left, I called Biola on the phone and she wasn’t sounding cool. She had confirmed she was pregnant after he used a pregnancy test she bought at the Pharmacy. I had always known Biola wouldn’t waste time confirming that. She said she would get an abortion pill next week. She was expecting some money.

She told me not to tell anyone. She knew how my father would handle the situation if he eventually finds out. Biola didn’t want the word to get out.

Because I was young and scared, I followed her suggestion and accepted what she said, despite my conscience pricking me. A voice was telling me to tell her not to abort the baby but I couldn’t speak up. Biola’s mind was already made up. I didn’t want to get in more trouble too, I was too young to be a father. I didn’t want to be judged—but I desperately wanted someone to give me a hug and tell me everything was going to be okay. A lot was really going on in my head.