THE ASSAULT

Maris turned the tap, once… twice….
 Not again!


The neighbours must've forgotten to pump water. The pot sizzled on the cooker, she needed water. She turned the cooker off, and went into the living room.


“There's no water…..” she called out.


  No response.


Fred was staring at the screen of his tablet like it were his life support system.


“Fred… there's no water,” she said louder this time.


She might as well have been speaking to a coma-tose patient via sign-language.


“Em….did you say something?”


There were times when she pondered if she had made the right choice marrying him. This was one of those times.






“I need water to cook, the tank's empty”


“Oh…," he said staring into the tablet again the way a Cobra stares at the hypnotic movements of a Snake Charmer.


"Fred!" She yelled, kicking the side of the seat he was on.


"What??"
"Get off your butt and do something!"


"Must you resort to violence?" He said, "Thought the machine had been fixed."


“It has," she said "but they must've forgotten to pump water.”


“What about Yinusa?”


“Babe it's almost 7pm - I don’t think he's back from Kano”


“Okay....," he sighed. "I'll get another Mai ruwa” He got off the couch and made for the door.



She stared at the tablet, wondering what would happen if she she set the damn thing on fire. She'd bought the demonic distraction for him as a birthday present. It was either that, or more golf clubs. Fred couldn't stop staring at it.


Minutes later, he walked in, accompanied by a dark tall man carrying two gallons of water. The man reminded her of a WANTED photo she'd seen on TV.


The man's stench was like a Fourth person in the room --- a fourth LARGE person. As he filled the buckets in the kitchen, she continued cooking. She heard Fred take him into the bedroom, so he could fill the buckets there. She concentrated on her cooking. She loved cooking. She'd heard somewhere that the process of cooking was therapeutic. Perhaps it was true. She thought. The kitchen was the one place she felt at peace. Being surrounded by the pots and aromas always put her in a good mood.



THUD!


Her heart skipped several beats at the sound.


She turned slowly towards the living room.


“Babe, is everything okay?”


No response.


She walked out of the kitchen, into the hall way leading to the bedroom.


There was no sound of water being poured into buckets. The silence was a little unsettling.


"Fred...?"


No answer.


She walked by the empty living room -- the air was still. Fred's tablet was lying on the couch.


“Fred!”


The bathroom door was slightly ajar, letting in some light into the hallway. She could see nor hear any movement coming from inside it.


She got closer, her heart-rate slowly speeding up. Something was wrong.


Water was seeping through the door into the corridor.
Oh God!


Then as she drew closer, the water seemed darker.....somehow.


Was the guy selling them bad water? Why would Fred be quiet about something like that? Was he.......?


An icy feeling spread across her chest when she realized what she was staring at...


Blood! Qa qq


 It was oozing unto the marble floor of the hallway. Her mind told her it wasn't real- that it was all in her head. That couldn't be blood, she though......it couldn't. She had no control of her legs, they seemed to pull her towards the door -- one step at a time. Everything else faded away, as if she had become what she was seeing; a dark crimson slow flowing liquid.


"Fred!"


 The door suddenly swung open. Years later, she would sit in front of a shrink and say, she was shocked, terrified and frightened when she saw her husband's body lying face down in a pool of blood. There was blood flowing from the side of his neck. She would tell the psychiatrist she was scared when she saw the man standing over Fred's body. But the truth is --- she had no idea what she felt. The only thought she formed in her head before the man charged towards her was: RUN!


The man came at her with such savagery, he tripped over Fred's body and crashed into the ground--- his hands skidding through the blood as he tried to get up.


She ran, dashing towards the kitchen, scraping her shoulder. She barely even noticed. Her heart was pounding. She could hear him scuffling and panting behind her.


She grabbed the kitchen door and slammed it behind her-- breaking two nails in the process. She pulled the latch seconds before his body crashed into the door. In panic, she fell backwards into the kitchen stool --- several items clattered violently into the ground. She rolled over just as a force like a battering-ram shook the door.
She heard him him struggling with the door handle as she scrambled into the pantry. This isnt happening, she thought. This isn't happening.


The door shook again.


Confusion a hand-grenade of confusion exploded inside her head. Her hands frantically searched the shelves for something-- ANYTHING to use to --- what? Fight him? She had no clue what she was looking for.


Then it hit her.


A frenzied-crazy thought.


She rushed into the Kitchen again, nearly tripping over a fallen stool. Several splinters exploded from the door.
He was getting through.


She switched on all six burners, grabbed the lighter ---- that was when he broke through.
She screamed just as his stench overwhelmed her. His fingers grabbed her by the throat and hoisted her off the floor. Images of Fred's face
flashed across her mind. She fought back, clawing at his face. He flung her towards the cabinets-- the small of her back slammed into a sharp wooden edge. The pain was exquisite --- sending an intense wave of agony all through her body as she hit the ground. Her head banged against something hard. She felt herself losing consciousness, but fought it. She felt his body on top of her --- his hands tearing at her blouse. She tried to scream, but a hard blow to silenced her. She could feel his hardness pressing against her. She was powerless.


Then she heard a heavy thud, accompanied by a sickening cracking sound. Her assailant was suddenly very still. His eyes gazed sightlessly into her face as if in a trance. Then she saw blood dripping from his face unto hers. Then he fell away from her--- lifelessly.


Fred stood in the doorway to the kitchen. The side of his face bloodied. He was holding up one of his golf-clubs like a seasoned warrior with a sword.


"Are you okay?" He panted.


Hours later, the house was swarming with neighbours and police officers. It so turned out that the man was a known lunatic that had raped and killed a girl of six a month before. There were Wanted photos of him at many police stations.


The police took his body away as Fred cradled his wife's head. She was still shaken up, but glad to have a husband like him around. She was certainly buying him more golf clubs.




I'M A WRITER
MY MIND'S MY WORKSTATION.
ENOUGH SAID
#Ivybrown