If & only if
Me and my friends we went out to blow off. We had weed and codeine and rollers and a spark. We met at the base of the billboard of Nostalgia Hotel, at that junction where there's a newspaper vendor and a mechanic workshop. We stood there a bit, laughing and joking and having girl-talks for entertainment. We had talks about school and shared memories. They asked me about law school and I told them it's coming up soon. Shortly after we were packed in a grey Mercedes Abdul came to pick us with.
At the back of the NUJ state office is a building halfway built. It served as a haven for different groups of boys like me who just wanted to steam off in the evening. We went in on a single file, all five of us. Inside what looked like the living room of the massive uncompleted building was a gang that got there first. Smoking their own blunts and looking like they just got off a fight. We greeted, like real Gs and found our own room to do our own stuff.
A moment later we are all squatted each holding a roll of marijuana with pink lights glowing gently at the base of each rolls. We start to climb up the clouds steadily when suddenly shadows start to hover above us. We look up and and there is the gang we met when we came in. Six or seven of them I can hardly recall now. Their eyes hold blood and a glint of trouble. Listen guys we just want to smoke and feel alright and leave, we say. We don't want no trouble we are all Gs ain't we?
They say no, we aren't. They say Abdul had done some stuff and now they are there for him. Before we can blink a boot connects to Abdul's rib, and that is where the trouble starts. You don't fight one person, you fight the gang. I don't want a fight fam I just want to go home. Fists are flying around me and I'm lost in utter confusion. While I'm still standing, lost and contemplating my fate, a left hook kisses my jaw and before I can breathe, a jab and a knee on my rib. I don't know where it came from, but I see a loose plank. I stop thinking, I just want to retaliate. To defend. I grab the plank and swing with all the strength my thin hands can command.
The moment stills and there is blood on his head. Everyone stops and the plank is still in my grips. Bloodied. Before I can think he is on the floor, wiggling in death and his head split in half. Eyes rolled into the sockets, he breathes his last.
A moment or so ago I was at home laughing with dad. A moment later his son has become a murderer. I look around and everyone is looking at me. You're a murderer now and we ain't part of it, they say. Fix your shit now or we call the police.
I open my mouth to speak but I can't, because suddenly the moment starts to swirl and everything starts to go on reverse. His head is closing and the blood is fading. We are walking back out of the room the way we came in. Backwards. We greet the gang and walk out back into the car. The car travels in reverse back to the base of the billboard of Nostalgia Hotel, at the junction where there's a newspaper vendor and a mechanic's workshop. We stand there a bit, laughing and joking and having girl-talks for entertainment. We have talks about school and share memories. They ask me about law school and I tell them it's coming up soon. They say it's time to go and they start to file into the grey Mercedes. I tell them I can't make it anymore, that I suddenly feel a type of way. They leave without me and I go back home.
This evening I get a call. There was a fight and Abdul is hurt. They say I'm lucky I didn't go with them, else I might have ended up in the emergency ward since I don't have the body for a brawl.