For those who attended Egerton University you know quite well of the university Bcom student who disappeared on May 20, 2017. And you also know that his where abouts still haven't been confirmed since then.
There have been speculation that he went back to his rural home where he married a primary school dropout and pursued chicken selling. A lucrative business that has earn him quite a fortune. You heard that he had the brains and run the business quite well, and his wife sells mboga. And together they could make the next Ruto and Rachel.
Well, guess what, I made up that Story. This is because the prick did something to me, of which I don't remember what it was as of now, but I very much did not appreciate it. He tried to play it off like it was no big deal and that got my blood boiling.
So when he was still busy explaining himself and how everything wasn't a big deal and that all we had to do was move out of our current room at that time, I clung his head.
I felt elated as the jembe stick connected with his head. I had been holding in a lot of pent-up anger and when the opportunity for retribution presented itself, it was too hard to resist. He never deserved it - but no one should ever make me feel disrespected or powerless.
The sound of the stick cracking against his skull filled the room and I almost couldn't believe that this act could bring me such pleasure. As he tumbled in shock, I felt smug satisfaction wash over me like a wave. With each satisfying hit and crackle, more strength returned to my arms until they were brimming with power once again – this time without having to rely on someone else's permission or control.I don't if you've killed someone before, probably not, but there is this bubbly feeling you get in your chest that makes you feel like laughing hysterically.
Adrenaline surged through me as I delivered what must have seemed like an endless stream of blows directed towards him so that even if he tried all his might, there would be no escape or reprieve from my fury! In some weird way, hitting him gave be back not only my sense of justice but also brought about a strange kind of catharsis like telling myself “you are worthy enough” . Despite evoking fear from others around us by acting hours outside civil decorum ,there sure is something fun about commanding respect through terror--and being able to deny any apology later!
Of course it was a momentary stupid panic that resulted in a big mess. When I hit him out of rage I wanted him dead, but not dead dead, like in a serious way. hah! But hey, what's done is done.
Funny, I never even was in love with his dumb ass, I just loved the idea of him. He saught after me and it was cute. He became obsessed and I got addicted to his obsession. He fed my emotions, and I liked it.
Now, herre I was, a dead boy in my room, but this girl wasn't scared by some meesly dead bod. So the that night I saught the campus goons who mostly resided around Gate or Njokerio. Gave them a meesly 2k and asked them to bury the body behind the apartment at night. See there was a garden behind the residential areas around gate where some of my friends had even planted a hemp plant. Not intentionally of course.
I could feel the cold wind cutting through my body on this dark night. The grass barely rustles beneath me as I dropped to a crouching position in front of the gravel. Moonlight casts eerie shadows across my face and seems to reflect off of something hidden deep below the ground: his lifeless eyes, never seen again.
A grave that no one will ever find him in, so far away from any living soul except myself. With each shove forward with the shovel, heavy dirt pushes itself against the goon's arms and hands until they were waist-deep into the mound. They say revenge is sweet but nothing compares to watching as every inch filled up with fresh soil senses like justice served at its best level. But we all know, I'm just sadistic.
The last few handfuls make their way down onto his corpse making sure it's sealed away properly even tight enough as if he were still alive restrained underground forevermore. Breathless excitement sweeps over me; delight becomes joy for having tucked away a person without anyone finding out what happened here tonight besides me, sublime...at least that's how it seemed! And then silence falls upon us like time had come still forcing all movement ceded regardless despite life’s insistence.. Needless, there after is deathly quiet & forbidding darkness overtaking. In turn killing whatever remained inside, not really, I felt nothing of that sought.
Now, 7 years down the line, I've killed three more people who've crossed me, tortured a few, and fucked many. All for the pleasure of having the power. When you are an orphan and a single mother, no one ever thinks you are capable, that's my armour.
It allowed me to operate without any suspicion. An orphan has few, if any family members around that can summon questions related to their past or present activities. A single mother often needs to spend more time away from home, which gives the perfect opportunity for carrying out criminal activity in secrecy. By also likely having financial struggles due to her status coupled with limited access to resources leaves room for varied “employments” that may not be closely monitored by authorities.
Though this statement should not make light of crime itself – being both marginalized and underestimated can offer disguise while plotting daring acts like organized hit orders against those who wronged me or those whom. The dynamic combination of emotional detachment and social exclusion makes orphans and single mothers unlikely suspects when looking into involvement in murder cases; making us the prime candidates as professional killers no one will suspect.
