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Last Updated:
2024-10-29 19:42:5625/06/2020
Maybe someday, one day .
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All of the panicking and yelling from the realization of the fact that the owner of the unknown number was that of a captor had immediately been cut shorty when I heard a gunshot closely; in fact I did see the bullet pass through and I was quick enough to catch the view with a side glance as it pierced into the fabric of my Driver's shirt. He let out a sharp yell that did not last for a minute as his last breath escaped his nostrils, causing his head to lie limply on the steering wheel, the truth now registering that he was dead.
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The clouds had formed together, grey in color like an assembling of a chariot, ready to wage a mighty war, only that this war emanating from the coming together of the clouds in the sky cane in torrents; there was now a heavy downpour of rain.I could not even tell which was heavier, between my tears and the rain
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MustafaZoe sashayed into her office, seating her lips like she'd been doing so for years and had mastered the art of seduction but I can't even focus on that right now, since all I am concerned about is my wife's safety and that's the reason why I'm here to see her.
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The Captive Chapter 29: Nine
Life I know is not orchestrated to be a bed of roses or an endless series of joy, the longevity of life, success, and desired results. We fail, we die even before our time, we lose people dear to us, we cry and we some times get results that are way below our expectations and the number of efforts we put into it.But by these occurrences do we learn and grow and scale through the maelstrom of life. If no one ever dies, we can never realize the worth of being alive
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After the lapse of a long period of time, comprising of unbearable anxiety, ludicrous and sinister tension dominating the atmosphere amongst me, someone who was supposed to be my past, and someone who was supposed to be my future. Whenever we were together, Dan was always trying to suppress his smug grin yet throwing surreptitious glances my way occasionally and death glares at Mustafa every other minute.
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The door opens with a bizarre force and I am left with the view of my elder sister, Yemisi who is holding her favorite pistol in hand along with my husband, Mustafa. Tears cascade down his cheeks as our eyes meet. I could tell just how delighted he felt from the depths of his heart to see that I was alive and safe but I was not happy to see him.I wish he never even went through the stress of looking for me because watching him make sacrificial deeds for my sake when I was far from deserving of it made my soul sink deeper than it already was in the chasms of ill feeling which aches me to term as "guilt". I didn't want to feel guilty.I was used to having people feel guilty about the things they did to me. People like my mother for example but looking at him alone did bewildering torture to my gut. It made the arms of shame itself squeeze my throat dry. Mustafa loved me dearly and ethereally but I made him bear the painful, cruel price for ever loving me. He looked out for me genuine
The Captive Author's Notes
14/08/2020. I wanna be the one to woo you honey,
