Onyx ( A Nigerian Themed Story)

prologue+ third person

Chioma put her shaking hands on the cool door knob. The building was completely dark but for the slivers of moonlight entering through a glass paneled wall on one side of the massive foyer. She peeked her head out through the door of a rarely used store room, into the vast, open expanse. The place had been meticulously cleaned and the final employees at the organisation had clocked off for the night, as the clock crept past eleven.

She opened the door of the store room and inched forwards, carefully checking all around her as she moved. She caught her reflection in a long, deformed mirror which the organisation was attempting to pass off as art. She jumped momentarily as she thought she had been caught, before she returned to her senses and realized it was just the uniquely beautiful final year student she had always known. She looked herself up and down and cursed herself for stooping so low.

She kept moving forward, getting closer to the door of the only occupied office.

'What work would one be doing at this ungodly hour?' She wondered.

She kept inching closer to the door until she was close enough to hear the sound of snoring coming through from the other side. She reached out to grip the door handle, her hands shaking violently at the thought of what she was going in there to do. Chioma always thought of herself as a pure girl. But the dilemma she was facing gave her no chance to be pure.

She turned the handle downwards and pushed the door open slowly, making sure that it didn't creak, revealing the still sleeping man. She was relieved that he didn't wake. If he did, he would struggle and Chioma wished to do the job quickly without any interruptions.

Like a cat, she crept into the dark room, only illuminated by the flickering reading lamp on the office table. Slowly, she walked towards the snoring man, taking out the chloroform soaked handkerchief from her pocket.

Her nervous system went haywire as her hands began shaking again. The reality of what she was about to do really hit her. For a moment, she hesitated. Was she really about to do this? To an innocent man more so?

'No he is not innocent. He has never been. Think of Chinwe.' Her older brother's advice rang in her mind, removing all traces of the innocent girl and replacing it with the cold-hearted Chioma.

She nodded to herself and advanced towards the still sleeping man, using her free hand to pull her knife from its sheath. She turned the weapon in her hands, still moving until she was behind the man, sprawled on his office chair.

He had slept in a position that left his neck exposed, making Chioma's job even easier. Her muscles went taut in anticipation and she spun her knife more.

In a swift motion, she blocked his nose and mouth with the handkerchief and deeply slit his throat. Blood spurted from his mangled neck and onto his documents on the table as he sprawled forward, already lifeless.

Her shaking, blood coated hands pulled a rosary from her back pocket and she began to mumble words of prayer.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.  May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.  Amen.

Chioma left as quickly as she had come, the only evidence of her presence being the dead man whose blood was already beginning to thicken.