49: Better to love than kill.

posted in: Fellowship Of Enemies | 1

“Baby it’s almost over. Aunty Joy is in police cell now. We are no longer running away from anything. It would be a shame that you run away now that I have the chance to show you how much you mean to me. Look at everything we have been through together,” He said.

He was melting my heart with sweet talk again. I had vowed in his absence that I won’t allow his sweet talk to change my mind but as I stood right there in his arms, I knew that he had gotten to me again. He was kissing my tears away. What kind of man would kiss tears. How on earth was I supposed to just pick the bags and leave after such thing? I was defeated again.

The reason why I even waited for him to return was so that he won’t come looking for me when I am gone. It was clear through the dreams that he would come searching for me if I made the mistake of leaving without his approval.

The truth of the whole thing was that Zuby was a lovely person. He was fun to be with on a good day. He would make you laugh for hours if he was in a good mood. He would worship you if the atmosphere was right. His only problem was going to troubles instead of running away from them. He once told me that he was difficult to be destroyed by a woman. He made it look like there was nothing I could do to him. It was during the early stages of our living together. He was afraid I could kill him. He knew I could poison him. So he told me that everything I ever planned against him would be revealed by his God before they happen. I believed him then. It was one reason why I didn’t really attempt to harm him. I felt that he would find out and could kill me, besides there was no better alternative than staying with him then.

“Are we still going to Denmark?” I asked. I recalled he said we were going to Denmark before the last incident.

“Yes, we are going to Denmark but I told the police I would testify against Aunty Joy in a few days. I told them she was a human trafficker and they want me to testify against her in court. That will put her away in Prison for many years baby. It means that she won’t be able to come after us again. It’s is good because we will no longer be looking over our shoulders. If they lock her up, we will be very happy and free in Denmark. Nobody will be looking for us,” he said.

“You say that mow as if you are going to maintain it. It won’t take long before you start looking for another girl to save. We can forget this people and live our own lives. We can’t save all the teenage street girls in Europe. There are thousands of them. I know this because I was one of them. This people bring ten more girls to replace each one you take from them. That’s just how it is. I will go to the court with you but as soon as the court is over, we will take our things and leave Sweden,” I said.

He nodded as I spoke. I had a feeling he won’t listen to me when he got bored. He was likely going to start looking for more girls to steal from their Madams. It was in his blood. It was already part of him. There was no going back for him unless he left Europe or maybe unless he was killed by those Madams. I wanted to kill him myself, that’s why I know they would kill him if they had the chance. Bringing a girl from Africa to Europe wasn’t an easy task. Sometimes the girls got caught and deported after spending so much money on them. Sometimes the immigration police arrested and locked them up in detention or deportation camps for long. Therefore the Madams never took things easy with anybody who tampered with the ones they succeeded in bringing to Europe. That was the field my boyfriend Zuby was playing his games, a very dangerous field.

We made love that night. It was unlike me to agree to it. I usually punished him by starving him of kisses and sex each time he misbehaved but I allowed him to make love to me that night. He sweet-talked me into it anyway but I had the chance to reject his advances. I wanted to make him believe that we were fine. I was beginning to know how he operated. He wouldn’t relax if I didn’t agree to have sex with him. He would believe that I didn’t agree totally to everything he said, and that would make him monitor every of my lives from then. It was good that I take his mind off my activities because despite my agreeing that I was staying back in Stockholm, there were still chances that I could wake up one day and varnish. The only thing I would do was not to take his money, that way; he won’t have enough reason to come after me wherever I might have gone.

One thing was very clear to me, Zuby loved me a lot. He said it, he practiced it. He protected me despite what was happening. He was always quick to send me out of harm’s way each time he suspected that there was danger around the corner. He bought me things I never would have thought. He called whenever he can especially when he was out of town. He sent me text messages, asking what I was doing, how I was feeling, feeding and others. He would call and sing for me on the phone while he was away. He would call in the midnight, telling me not to worry because he would return to me alive, and he always did. He said he was going to make mo ey for me and he was doing just that, the only problem was that it was dangerous blood money, money that the owners would never have parted with under normal circumstances, money that was so hot that thugs came looking for it from Italy and money that I wished would just go away and allow me to rest for a while. I was getting tired. I didn’t come to Sweden for money. I came to Sweden to take my Fatima back and possibly kill the man who destroyed my business but before I could recall how much I bought my flight ticket, I was already sleeping with the same man I traveled all the way from Italy to kill. Sometimes after thinking about everything, I felt like a big fool but despite everything, one thing was clear. I was not a killer. I had no plans of how to handle any problems that could arise as a result of killing Zuby. Things could quickly go south, experience had shown that to me. And if that ever happened, I would have myself to blame inside prison walls, perhaps for the rest of my life.

So you see my readers, it was better to love him than kill him; at least I lived to tell my story today. It was better.

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One Response

  1. Good thinking Maria. He who kills live to be killed.

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