They will come for me, and it is all because I allowed myself to be in a position where things will become difficult. No! It was all his fault. For it was he who pushed me towards a matter I had no plans of; into committing an act I never thought myself capable of on a day I would now never forget and this night where sleep has forsaken me.
Why can I not close my eyes without bloody disturbing images appearing to hunt me? If only I can mention this to somebody, anybody, perhaps I would feel better; maybe this soul of mine burning with the fire of fear will blaze less. Yet I fear their judgment, but not more than I fear what will come to me when the sun begins to shine by morrow.

I never wanted any of this, my God! All I wanted was the waters of love, a feeling that I was wanted by someone. I cannot understand how a matter so simple grew so dark.

This wouldn’t have happened if only you had kept your word, or at least allowed me to leave when I wanted to. Thinking about it now perhaps I should have let you have your way with me. But what kind of woman would I be after? How would I look my mother in the face after without feeling shame and guilt for betraying her?
That was I fought you off when you began to rip off my abaya. The horror blinded me with fear and confusion so that I was not sure what to do.

It was the devil-who else could it be?- that led me to the butter knife, and you should have kept away, the uncertainty in my eyes, and my jittery hands should have informed you that I was not sure of myself. Why didn’t you keep away? Why did you come walking towards me with that sick arrogance in your eyes, and the horrifying smirk on the corner of your lips? It was all your fault that I pushed the butter knife into the side of your neck, and O Allah! The blood that gushed out!

Your neighbors saw me when I left, and I trust that by tomorrow I will be taken away and eventually be sent to the gallows for murder. But should I sit here and wait? Should I eat this rat poison and be with you so that you and I both will explain to Allah the reasons for our shameful actions?

The End.

Previous articleWE ARE NOT THEM!
Next articleI am Kebbi
Abubakar Evuti is a student, teacher and writer living in Kaduna, Kaduna State.


  1. The pen being an instrument of change. I would want us to expand our scope. Let’s talk about morals. Is there a supreme moral giver out there, why do will act the way we act, is there something wrong with us or is there nothing wrong we us?