EssayStoryJournalBook reviewReflectionResearchLetterPoemMemoir1,312 words6 min readAutosave enabledThe conversation went on and on that at some point Martha thought it would have been better if she had just left earlier. It was already two o’clock for Christ’s sake. It touched all areas from the Nairobian thieves, the best shopping stores, fancy coffee places to the fabulous restaurants in the city. One-for-the-road had turned to a whole-night-out. “So, how are you finding Nairobi so far?” Martha asked Laurent, who she thought had been staring at her while nodding to whatever Keisha had to say. Before she could answer her, she noticed her hands trembling at first slowly but grew uncontrollably shaky in a split impulse with a serious migraine setting in. Her instincts instantly told her if she were to do something, then it had to be done really fast. The world was quickly collapsing on her. Everything seemed to be effortlessly fading away into nothing with her eyes now straining to remain open but the much effort was rendered futile. All she could now see was the shiny whisky glass she had just set back on the table with yellow powder below the drink that she now noticed with exhaustion and regret. She tried to stand, but instantly lost balance and fell right into Laurent’s arms, who seemed to have been waiting for that to happen. Keisha, on the other hand was yelling something Martha could not make out as she was obviously dead-drank. It then dawned on her what had actually befallen. She tried to make Keisha see what was happening and what Laurent was actually doing to her but words seemed not form in her mouth. Laurent winked at her, and she knew that, that would probably be the last person she was ever going to see in her life if it meant dying. "I am going to get her some water" Keisha started, rummaging through her purse to find cash as she clutched onto her drink as if it were a prize that she would allow no one to pry from her hands. “No please don’t. No please. Laurent is not who we think she is, you cannot trust her alone with me”, are the words Martha kept regrettably uttering in her mind as her mouth apparently had stopped cooperating, and so had her eyes and brain. All she could hear now were distant noises and her world closing in, with total darkness engulfing her from all directions. ‘Wow, not the best way or place to die’, she thought. Then there was nothing. Five meters away from Tribeka, a medium-height man stood beside a cab, with a dark gamin face under a layered mass of short black hair. He was ramrod-straight and rock-jawed, with gunmetal eyes and shoulders that seemed mitered at perfect ninety-degree angles. His mind wandered as he drank from a bottle of scotch he had kept in the car as he occasionally checked on his watch. It was now quarter past two in the morning and he was spinning drunken fantasies of murdering his estranged wife who apparently was expecting his kid, if ever she were to keep asking for her share of property for supposed maintenance that is. Nonetheless, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever met with her angelic face and the soulful brown eyes he thought. He then wondered how much longer he would have to wait for the lady he had just dropped at the club. He was growing really exhausted but the white lady was paying him three times more for one trip than a Kenyan would care to pay, this had to be his lucky night and he had every intention of making the most out of it. She had crossed him in his mind though as really closeted and seemed to be more than she appeared to be, if the chit-chat he had had with her was anything to judge from. All of a sudden a hooded man approached him and immediately took out his gun from his pants and pointed it to him, and before he could register what was happening he had already taken two bullets to his stomach and was sprawling on the ground with blood oozing uncontrollably as he hit the car door while the bottle sprung in the air and fell breaking into pieces as the scotch splashed all over the place. “Ochieng?” he was taken aback by his brother’s features as he removed the hood over his head. “What’s happening?” he queried as he held his right arm against his belly to stop the blood from flowing. Of all the ways he had thought he was going to die, his brother shooting him had never featured as one of them. Scary how life happens. Or in this case, ends. “I am sorry brother, but I had no choice. It had to be done” and with that he made towards the club but was stopped by a phone call. “Hello Sir Kelvins, yes I have taken care of it. Now it’s the girl and I will be done with you” he muttered. “I knew you could do it Ochieng, your cash will be transferred to your account in seconds now” then there was a cruel laughter on the other end of the line as the guy gave a sigh of relief. “So it was all for the money?” the dying man on the ground cynically asked trying to look at his brother who now appeared impatient to finish the task. “Who’s the girl?” he added hoping to get an answer to at least one of his questions. He eyed Ochieng for a few seconds and realised his brother was already dead and gone; all that remained was a mere living stature of him on the outside. “She is the white girl you just dropped,” he responded as he took quick steps to the club. As his brother walked further away he could only see his dark shadow cast behind him by the bright lights from the club and he knew that that was the last thing he was going to see. He wished he could go and warn the lady but knew it was all that. A mere wish. Inside the club, Martha was now unconscious with Keisha at the counter waiting to order for water from a waiter who seemed confused or probably drunk. “Is your friend okay?” he asked making Keisha surprised and scared that he actually knew them somehow. Before she could find the right words, her phone started ringing and out of fright she almost dropped her drink that she was still holding. It was a new number, and her truecaller app claimed to be dude by the name ‘Sir Kelvins’. ‘Do people still call themselves sirs in England? Very classical’ she thought, as she contemplated whether to answer the phone call. “Are you gonna answer that?” a man standing behind her asked, making her jump out of fear. Talk of personal space. Turning back, the man was now holding a gun that now could be seen from under his shirt that was un-tacked from the front. Chills ran through Keisha’s body with her brain quickly sobering. “Where is Laurent?” he asked slowly stressing on each syllable to every word. The waiter at the counter was now pointing at the exact opposite direction of Martha’s and Laurent’s giving a devil’s smile as his eyes stared on Keisha from head to toe then stayed at her legs for a moment longer. That’s when she realized that she had actually pissed on herself and was trembling hard out of fear. The guy then put back his gun, backed off and walked towards the other two ladies as the waiter took Keisha’s hand quickly that she dropped her drink with the phone call ending unanswered. All she could feel now were the sweats running down her body.