Chapter Three

The Present.

GRACE

The streetlights were up. They generously cast their golden glow on me as I jogged on the neighborhood roads to find release.

It's a sacrifice I had to pay as a writer. One way or another, inspirations come at those odd moments when your heart is beating like a drum and you just suddenly stop midway to bend over with your hands placed on your knees, starting to smile at your fresh plot or a thrilling revelation about your character. Or how to end your story.

So this particular evening, I was jogging for motivation over a gothic story. Already, my day had been stressful. After tucking Laurie, my six-year-old daughter into bed few minutes ago, making sure she was sound asleep and packing some of her clothes into her travel bag for tomorrow, I just had to hit the road.

She even agreed to sleep early, so that tomorrow could come quickly for her to head to Nkechi’s place already, according to her. I giggled mentally, amused at her enthusiasm to leave the house.

I didn’t plan to run this long but the thoughts in my head made me lose track of space and time, so that I had to stop and look around me to realize I had jogged two streets past my usual stop.

I was familiar with this street called The Old Town Road but I hardly crossed the territory owing to the scary stories I had heard of the place. People being robbed or beaten or…

My train of thoughts was interrupted by a sight at the corner of a building. I was about to turn and run back when I heard an inaudible sound from behind that made my blood curdle.

Was this a trap? Was I about to be mobbed? The street was as silent as a grave yard. No one was coming or going. Although it was normal because people knew about the frightening tales of Old Town Road, so it was a given that no person in their right senses would be found here on their own at this time of the day.

“Help me...” came a lifeless voice from that same angle.

I wanted to ignore whatever or whoever it was, twirl and take to my heels but I just couldn’t bring myself to move the other way. I let out a breath of frustration and walked tentatively towards the voice.

“Help me, please,” the voice came a bit louder this time but I couldn’t distinguish if it was a man or a woman so I went closer to be sure.

I rounded the corner in slow and calculated stride and was greeted with the most horrible sight ever.

A red sports car that looked seriously expensive with broken front and side glasses stood at the corner of the road with the driver’s door handing open. I got to the front of the door only to find a middle aged man lying in limp in the car seat with his whole face covered in blood.

I gasped aloud as my heart practically dropped to my stomach and I had a great urge to throw up all the food I ate before coming out.

This man wasn’t the person asking for help, he looked totally dead, I reasoned then took out my phone from my slacks and dialed 911 with my shaky and sweaty palms as I kept muttering “it will be okay” to myself repeatedly.

“Heeeelp” the same voice that lured me here called and coughed weakly startling me with confusion causing my phone to drop from my shaky hands few meters from the car. As I moved closer to pick up my phone, a strange bloody hand grabbed my wrist. I let out a shriek and jumped back, terrified to the bone.

This was exactly like one of the scenes in my book and if I was the one writing, it was obviously time for my character to hit the road.

The hands filled with blood turned out to be a man who should be in his early thirties, blood was dripping from every part of his face. I was so horrified, I had no idea what to do or where to start from.

His lips quivered, he coughed out weakly again as I tried to reach for my phone on the ground close to his head.

“I… I’m so sorry, I’m calling the ambulance now,” I stuttered, trembling uncontrollably as I tried to speak then the man grabbed my hands again mouthing incoherent words.

I squatted down to hear what he what trying to say, a creepy feeling gnawing at me with his bloody hands holding my wrists to tight like they were his life support.

“N… no amb…am..bulance, please,” he forced himself to voice out, still I wouldn’t have heard a thing if I wasn’t crouching down close to his mouth to hear what he was trying to say.

Did he just say ‘NO AMBULANCE?!”

And the words left me bewildered and confused. I had no idea of what to do or what not to do.

Then emerged my spirits of indecisiveness. I called them Mr. Do and Mrs. Don’t.

Mr. Do: You have to call an ambulance, it’s the only rational and logical thing to do at the moment. Don’t think about it twice, don’t hesitate or listen to him, he’s probably not even in his right mind. Just do it!

Mrs. Don’t: How can a dying man who knows more than anyone that he needs medical attention with immediate effect tell you not to call an ambulance if it isn’t for a good cause? Sometimes logic and rationality should be dumped in a garbage bin!

These voices in my head were not making matters any better, I had to force myself to make a decision.

“Young man, can you talk? Or move?” I asked, raising my voice several decibels to make sure he could hear me. “I have to call an ambulance, you’re too weak to and I don’t have any other option,” I informed him, stretching my hand to pick up my phone.

He held me gripped my hand again, startling me for the umpteenth time.

“Don’t call... Please... Please” he moaned, obviously in pains and increasing my frustration.

Why the hell would this man not want me to call an ambulance? What have I gotten myself into for heaven’s sake! I groaned mentally, getting up and tying my hair in a ponytail anxiously.

To my utmost surprise, the young man who looked like he was at the brink of death started struggling to get up.

I quickly squatted close to him and helped him sit with his back resting on the truck of the red expensive car. He looked beaten up bad, this wasn’t some sort of accident.

It was staged and this guy was obviously ambushed.

“I can walk miss, just take me out of here, please. I’ll explain everything later” he forced out breathing really hard and loud.

He was having difficulty in breathing and it scared the hell out of me. What he was saying right now was completely ridiculous. I had no inkling he was and even where I was supposed to take him to.

He was making no sense at all.

“I’m not all that badly injured, please, get me out of here and call the ambulance to come for my driver,” he pleaded, turning to stare into my eyes with his steel-grey piercing eyes, while his bloody hands clung to mine tightly.

“I can’t do that, Mr. whatever your name is,” I blurted out, my exasperations causing me to sound rude. “You obviously need medical care, telling me to take you out of here is just plain stupid and risky. Please allow me call the ambulance.” I begged, feeling utterly miserable.

“I’ll really die if you take me to the hospital.” he said sending me a gaze so lucid I could sense the fear in him. “So if you really want to save me, get me out of here and call an ambulance to come help my driver. He would be safe in the hospital, not me.” he explained, groaning in pain and coughing weakly in between.

“Besides, my house is far too far and my car too damaged, and I cannot drive in this state.”

His explanation made the hair at the back of my neck rise in unison. This man was obviously in danger and I was left with only an option. Taking him to my home.

That was far safer and plausible, asides the fact that I wouldn’t want Laurie to see someone with such injuries and blood in the house. It was a great relief that she was already asleep.

The only way to get out of this mess was by not seeing it in the first place, but now that I’ve seen it, I have been straddled with taking responsibility for it.

Hell, I thought, throwing caution into the wind.

The injured man was staring at me like he was patiently waiting for me to make a decision.

“Well, fuck it.” I muttered under my breath.

“I live in a tiny flat and you have to manage, because, well… we have no choice.” I uttered, voicing out my decision to take him to my house.

I knew I was going to regret it later, however, I chose to worry about now.