THE JAILBIRD (Episode 51)

THE JAILBIRD ®18 SNVL (Episode 51) ©Aaron A.A

Crankson cannot believe what he has just seen.
No, it can’t be possible. No man can do what Chris has just done to Bobo.
Bobo Black is an expert, a power freak who also doubles as Mike’s sparring p@rtner.

He is strong, he is fast, and he is an expert in many forms of martial arts.
But his destruction had been within the blink of an eye.
Mike knows, quite too late, that he has bitten off more than he can chew.
Mike is not a coward, and never had been, but he knows a bully when he sees one, and he knows that Chris Bawa is a bully, and he knows de-ep down that he has been terribly wrong about this Bawa dude.
He is no match for that furious maddened man coming for him.
Chris steps across Bobo’s sprawled b©dy and rushes forward, but Darlett holds unto him ti-ghtly.

Son, son, son! Take it easy, son! You will kill him! They’ll s£nd you back to prison!
But Chris is beyond listening to reason.
Seeing Junior lying so still, so hurt, with blood on his head has just taken all reason out of his head.
He pushes Darlett aside easily.

St©p him! Oh, plea-se, someb©dy st©p him, plea-se!
Many men rush on Chris, holding him trying to bring him down.
He is like an eel, knocking them off one after the other with such rage that when six men fall to the ground m0@n ing with pain, no one dares to hold him again.

By that time, though, Bosomtwum and Crankson are in the Hummer, and the driver has started up and the car is moving down the street.
Chris is like a robot!
He can’t see beyond the red haze of his anger, his hurt, his bitterness!
He begins to run after the Hummer, pumping his legs, his arms, running, chasing it!
Bosomtwum and Crankson turn and watch him throu-gh the back windshield.
Chris is oblivious of the horns of cars behind him. He chases the Hummer with such one-track anger, his eyes seeming to cast glows of hatred after the hvge black car.
But the car is fast, and is gathering speed, and soon the distance between them wi-dens, and still Chris will not st©p running after it, even when his heart begins to tear ap@rt with lack of oxygen.
When the Hummer is safely away, Bosomtwum turns away and sits down, but Crankson is riveted to the windshield, still looking out.

You can’t fight that man, Mike. The fight is off.
Crankson finally sits down and looks at his trainer.

He’ll f0rç£ me to fight now, Nana. I’ll have no choice.
Bosomtwum turns and looks at the young man with ha-rd eyes.

There should be a choice, Mike. I saw a beast out there. It is personal for him now. I don’t know if his boy is going to be alright. You pushed him too ha-rd . Whatever we do, we’re not fighting him.

I ain’t scared of that old man! I’ll tear him ap@rt. 

From what I saw, if you fight that man, you’ll never fight again. He’ll kill you!
Chris is still running until Effe’s car suddenly crosses him.
He looks at her desperately.

(tears running down her face)
Chris. Get in the car!
The backdoor opens.
Darlett is there, cradling the still form of Junior.
Chris, fatigued out, clim-bs in.
Effe begins to drive with her horn blaring.
Chris takes his son in his arms and holds him gently as his whole b©dy continue to vibr@te with rage.
A moment later he feels pressure on his middle f!nger, and looks down, and Junior is gripping his hand ha-rd .
His eyes open slowly and he smiles weakly at his father.
And, much against his will, tears of love and relief flood Chris’ eyes.

Champ! Oh, Champ!

The hvge Waiting Lounge of Eyram’s Consultancy is filled with anxious people.
The glas-s doors slide open for the umpteenth time.
Steve and Jonathan Afful enter, and Elaine is behind them.
Steve pauses with mild surprise.
Effe is pres£nt, together with her parents.
Some of their friends are pres£nt as well, and a few more people Steve does not recognize.
Chris is standing at the far end near a window, his back turned, staring out throu-gh the tinted glas-s pane.
Besides him is a diminutive white-haired elderly man.
Effe is sitting anxiously on a seat near Chris, and she is staring at his turned back with a look that is both tender and worried, and it sears throu-gh Steve’s heart like h0t daggers.
The doors slide open again and Diana, Chris’ sister, enters.
Steve walks to Effe’s side and sits beside her.
He reaches for her hand, and for a very brief moment she almost snatches her hand away, but she relaxes slowly as he puts an arm around her shoulders.
Elaine sits at her other side of the long seat, and Afful stands, casting furtive glances at Chris and Darlett.

So sorry, love. We heard the news on radio and rushed straight here.

How’s he, honey?

Eyram is attending to him. We just-
And at that very moment Eyram emerges from the wards and pauses, and then she surveys the room.
Effe gets to her feet, but Eyram quic-kly walks forward, and for a moment it appears as if she is going to pas-s Effe and go straight to Chris, but Effe holds her sister’s arm suddenly with a severe questioning look on her face.

He’s going to be fine. Just a mild concussion. His wound has been treated, and did not even require stitches.
Chris turns away from the window… and his face is death.
His eyes are slits, and his jaw is working. Those who know him well know that he is in destructive mode, and has reached the utmost limits of his fury where he cannot be reasoned with.

(whispering painfully)
You were pas-sing me, Rammy? Why? What’s wrong with you nowadays?

Sorry, Ef. Junior is asking for his father. I just wanted to tell Chris that.
Chris walks forward and stands looking de-eply into the eyes of Eyram.

He’s fine? You’re absolutely sure about that?

He’s very fine. He can go home now. He wants to see you.
Without another word Chris moves on, but he does not go towards the ward.
He walks to the entrance.
Steve is speaking, and Effe is listening as she heads for the ward, and it takes her sometime before she sees that Chris is walking towards the entrance.
She whirls round, and even though Steve tries to catch her arm she side-steps him and races after Chris, and a look of terrible pain crosses Steve’s face.
Effe sees Chris in the corridor, walking ra-pidly towards the lifts.
He is leaving.
And she knows by his gait, by the angle of his head, by the tautness of his b©dy, that the reckless Chris is back …the Chris she hates, the Chris that does not listen, the Chris that reacts only to the wrath within him.
When she calls his name it is with a heavy heart of doom, because she has a de-ep inkling that everything good that had happened to them in the past few weeks is ra-pidly spiralling out of control.

Chris! Chris, wait!
He st©ps, and turns. She runs to him, and st©ps in front of him.
His face is dark and taut, and even though he is looking at her she knows he does not really see her because at that p@rticular moment love is not his prime focus.
Tears come to her eyes, and then as it spills down her cheeks she reaches out with her right hand and lays it on his ha-rd broad che-st.

Ever since I fell in love with you, Chris, it has always been like this. At the point where we just have a chance to be happy, you st©p listening to your heart, and you only let that temper control you. We have been denied happiness for so long, Chris, because you can’t control that fire in your belly. At this moment, my love, I want to tell you that I’m willing to sit down with you.
I’m willing to listen to you. Yes, I know I never did that before. I know de-ep down in your soul there’s a wound there that never healed, and that is what caused you to do all those horrible things. Sure, I was young, and I also thought of a whole lot of things, and I listened to a whole lot of people. I’m a woman now, and I’ve come to realize that I love you, and I’ll always love you.
I’ve come to realize that I nee-d to help you get that pain in you out. This moment is going to define our love, Chris-Love. When you walk out that door, you’re going to start all the bad karma that destroyed us. This moment I nee-d you, you son nee-ds you. We can turn around and go for our son. You don’t nee-d to go out there, Chris, I’m begging you. Breathe, my love, plea-se! Breathe!
She finally looks into his eyes, and she sees the little-boy Chris in there for a moment, crying out for love, desperately nee-ding the raging inside his soul to end, but then he raises his hands to t©uçh her, to hold her, and he sees the dried blood of his son still in his palm, and in a second the rampaging Chris is back, and Effe’s heart quails, because she knows she has just lost him.

Bastard hurt my boy. I’m gonna put him down.
Effe punches him in the che-st with her closed fist, and even though it hurt her knuckles more than it did him, she continues to punch him as her tears of desperation fall.

You promised your son, Chris! You promised him you won’t fight!

That was before that bastard hit my son. Nob©dy hits my son, Ef. Nob©dy!

Damn you, Chris! Have you forgotten Junior’s dream? He saw you lying on the canvas dead! Is that what you want, to step in there and die? If I don’t matter to you think of what that can do to your son, and st©p that fire and come with me right now. Chris, plea-se, oh Chris… plea-se!
He turns away from her, his wrath roiling and out of control now.

You go in there and take care of my son. That bastard can’t kill me. I’m gonna beat the cra-p outta him!
Effe cannot speak, and she cannot move because her tears are choking her, and the pain in her heart is considerable.
She watches lamely as he enters the elevator, and the door closes.

To be continued 

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