They Put Me To Rest (A short story)

They Put Me To Rest (A short story)

“Shhh… Keep quiet!” His angry voice infused with passion, rang over my head as he thrusted again and again into my body before I went still. He was the last of them, they were 5. 

That was 3 years ago. Now, I am the one looking down at him; he is completely still too. I cannot believe it is finally his turn to keep quiet after shutting me up all those years ago. Do I feel happy or sad? I don’t know how to feel.

His face is a ghostly pallor, the casket a shiny white decorated with soft flowers he does not deserve. I suppose I should feel a little satisfaction for causing his death but the memory gives me no pleasure. It was more of a duty.

I look away for the rest of the ceremony, as the priest gives him blessings he does not deserve. I let the memory of that day last week wash over me and a little smile tugs at my lip – okay, that was actually funny. 

He was in a hotel with his usual company of two girls; he had orgies but the threesomes were his favourite. What’s more, he liked them spicy so I added a little too much Sniper to his wine. I don’t know how he did not notice the difference, maybe because he was already high on weed. 

The funny part was when he started convulsing, his eyes bulging. He struggled to free his wrists from the shackles tied at both ends of the headboard in the name of BDSM. Only thing was, the girls thought he was really having fun so they rode him harder – one on his phallus and the other on his mouth. 

At least he died in “enjoyment”, he did not give me that luxury.

2 rapists silenced, 3 to go.

The ceremony is over. I look at my next target as he cleans his crocodile tears with one hand while the other is hooked in his wife’s. I want to feel sad for her but I remember she protected a rapist and my heart hardens again. Another time Madam Josephine, you’ll have true reasons to cry. 

I eye her husband, Dr. Prof. Agbaje, again as he heads towards his car whose brakes I have tampered with. 

Now it’s your turn to “keep quiet”, I think and smile in spite of my weariness. 

The human world makes me tired; I resolve not to return until Agbaje’s burial as my form disappears into thin air. 


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May 2021