CHAPTER THREE
*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*
That was the
third time whoever was out there had knocked on my door.
We were playing a game of silence, both of us, waiting for
the first person to make a move, separated by mere inches - the door, me and
whoever was out there. Was it the killer?
Quiet. It was all quiet. I wouldn’t dare speak, I didn’t
know what was waiting on the other side, time was moving so slowly in those
moments.
“It’s the police, open up. We just have a few questions for
you. This is the residence of Arnold Adegabaju, am I right?”. I wore a puzzled
look on my face, as it dawned on me that the police were in fact outside my
door. Why were the police knocking on my door for **** sake?
Or was it the killer trying to impersonate the police? Did
he think the cheap trick would get me to open up? no, I was smarter than that.
But wait, what if it really was the police, I’d never done anything to warrant
the police on my doorstep, but them coming at this moment wouldn’t seem like a
coincidence. It all seemed to add up - that the head of my girlfriend turned up
in front of my door, and then the police a mere hours later.
Someone. Was. Setting. Me. Up. For. Murder.
Things just took a different turn in a matter of seconds. I
stumbled to the door, and tried to peep through to see, but I couldn’t make out
anything on the other side.
“I’m going to need to see identification to let you in, can
you do that?” I said with my face pressed against the door, with my speech
stuttered. I was scared. I was worried. I was confused. There were so many
emotions running through, I couldn’t be sure what I was thinking, or what I was
doing. “Sure we can do that, but we’re going to need you to open the door to do
that, I mean, how else are you going to see it?”
It was a good point, but it also felt like a trap, like if I
opened the door, I’d get ambushed, maybe shot on the leg so I couldn’t run. He
said we, meaning there was more than one person out there. So one person would shoot me, and the other
guy would tie me up. Who knows what sorts of things they’d do to me.
But this was a very difficult position; If it was the police
and I didn’t open the door, then it’d make me look guilty, and who knows how
long they’d wait before they took matters into their own hands; But if it was
the killer and his friends, then it would pretty much be the end of my life. I
realized soon enough, that with either scenario, my life would never be the
same again.
I took a gulp, as a tear fell across my face. I had to make
a choice. I ran to the kitchen to grab a knife. I unlocked the door, turned the
handle with my left hand, with my right hand behind my back holding a tight
grip on the knife, I pulled the door open ever so slightly, so only half of my
face could make its way out. I stretched my face extremely slowly to see what
was out there.
I saw two badges pointing directly at the door. They were
definitely police – I had had a lot of run ins with them in my former life to
know what the badges looked like. I withdrew my face and let out a sigh. Tears rained
down my face, and I locked the door back quickly. It was the police. It was
better than seeing two masked men coming for an ambush, but it wasn’t good
either. The longer I waited, the more suspicious I looked, especially after
seeing their badges. My back was resting against the door now as I scanned the
house. Shit.
It was a mess. The box with Amanda’s head was beside the
table, and there was still that blood trail on the kitchen floor. This wasn’t
looking good for me. “Sir, you’ve seen the badges, now will you let us in?” my
next response was going to be crucial. “Yes, yes, I’ll let you in right away”.
I tried to sound confident and unassuming, but I realized I only sounded like
someone who had things to hide. Shit. I heard muffled noises outside the door,
as if they were talking to themselves. What were they telling themselves, were
they already assuming I was guilty? They never did say what it was they wanted
to talk about though.
“What is it
you want to talk about? I’d like to know before I open up”
“It’s about a disappearance, or really a missing persons
case”, came the reply.
I was right, they were here because of Amanda. But something
in their voices told me that they didn’t just want to ask me if I’d seen
Amanda.
I ran to the box and pushed it under the table and as I ran
towards the kitchen to try and mop the blood off, I tripped over my legs,
landing awkwardly on the ground, and ended up cutting myself with the knife I
was holding. I let out a screech of pain and I tried to gather myself back up
to my feet, that’s when I heard the noise.
There was a thud on my door, and then there was another, and
after a few more in quick succession, the locks gave way, and I saw two men
standing in front of my door, looking straight at me - nothing separated us
now. They looked like middle aged men, wearing oversized trench coats. They
looked each other, in the eye, “what’s that smell” one of them said to the
other, he looked like he would vomit. They immediately turned and looked at me
after they realized what it was. There was no compassion in their eyes, only
disgust - and they wore with no shame across their faces. That’s when it dawned
on me.
Whatever questions they were thinking about had been
answered by the smell of death in my apartment, and the bloody knife in my hand,
coupled with the frantic look on my face. I wasn’t going to let them judge me
like that, sentence me to the end of my life for something I had no part in. At
this moment, I could no longer converse with any of them.
They looked at me, and told me to stay calm. One of them
walked slowly towards me, his hands in the air to signify a sign of peace, but
never taking his eyes of the bloody knife I was holding. They wouldn’t want to
hear my side of the story anymore; they’d already judged the case in this moment.
He wasn’t coming towards me in the name of peace, no, he was coming towards me
with the intent of war. He was advising
me not to do anything rash. I realized he’d walked towards me and covered my
view of the other officer, and so I stretched my head to see what he was up to.
His hands weren’t visible anymore; they were on his waist,
sliding down towards his backside pocket. He was reaching for a gun. They were
going to try to take me in, and if they couldn’t take me alive, they’d take me
dead. None of that was going to happen.
I was standing, mere inches away from of the kitchen door,
and it was now or never. I threw the knife straight at the officer, he dodged,
and it went spiraling towards the other officer. He’d brought out his gun and
shot at me, but my aim had been better than I’d wanted it to be, as the knife
struck him on his shoulder - I think that’s why his shot missed, the bullet
burrowed into the wall.
I slammed the kitchen
door shut, and locked myself in. My apartment was on the first floor of the
building, and weighing my options, jumping down from the window or unlocking
the kitchen door. The jump seemed fair enough compared to the other option.
I heard a thud at the door, they were just realizing it was
locked and were trying to break in. The door wasn’t as strong as the main
apartment door and I figured they were banging at the door with more force this
time, so it wasn’t going to be too long before they broke it down. And coupled
with the fact I’d just thrown a knife straight at one policeman’s face, and hit
the other in the shoulder, I could confidently say I’d exhausted all the
avenues for a conversation to talk things out. They would come at me guns
blaring.
The Window.
I took a deep breath, and ran towards the window - planning
to jump straight out, but when I looked at the ground, I thought twice about
it. I slowly put one foot out, and then put another, that’s when the kitchen
door broke down. I turned back to see them with theirs guns out. One officer
told me not to jump, that I should reconsider what I was doing. It was too late
for that now, I took a leap of faith and went crashing down to the pavement.
“Arrgh!!!!!!!” was the disgruntled sound I made as I landed
on the ground. I landed feet first, but the force on impact had cause my legs
to give in, and so I went down the ground, face first, before my whole body
followed suite, crashing down, as I rolled uncontrollably on the ground. I
didn’t have the time thought to wallow in my pain though, and I knew the
officers would be out the main door soon.
And so I used the momentum from my fall, transcending into a
roll, to pick myself up, and started running.
(Part 4 coming next week Friday)
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