I know what the angel of death looks like. It was one calm and rainy evening when I heard gunshots and a woman crying her heart out. From the intensity of the gunshots, I could tell that the shooter was right outside our gate. I am naturally a curious person but I could not dare open the window to peep outside in an attempt to establish what was happening. The gunshots went on for about three minutes unabated before the woman stopped crying and everything went silent.
My legs were riveted to the ground. I could barely breathe nor move an inch for I thought the shooter would hear my footsteps. For about five minutes, I clutched on to the table while I contemplated my next move. I then heard footsteps outside the door. How the shooter managed to scale the concrete wall into our compound is something I cannot tell to this day. I presumed that the shooter was a man. I thought unto myself, “There is no way a woman can scale such a tall wall with barbed wire at the top”.
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I knelt and started walking on my fours while I thought of a safe escape route. I went to my bedroom and slowly and carefully opened the blinds quarter way. I then peeped outside. What I saw freaked me out and made me shake like a generator. Standing in the dark was a six-foot-tall woman with a lightning-like scar on her face. She had an AK-47 gun hanging on her shoulder and a huge knife tucked in her left pocket. In her bloody hands, she was holding what appeared to be a woman’s head. My fate was already sealed. However, I could not go down without a fight. I went to my father’s bedroom, opened his cabinet, took his shotgun and pointed it at the main door.
