The machete sliced through his skull splitting it in two, blood soaking my clothes and gushing like a fountain. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think–I just ran. Down the hallway, through the hostel doors and into the night. Screams echoed behind me as I sprinted down the old asphalt road, the mutilated bodies of others scattered like broken rag dolls. I didn't know where I was going— only I had to survive.
The chapel was the only place that came to mind. It had always been my safe space. As I ran towards the chapel, I remembered the Urban curse legend of calabar – something I had always dismissed as a scare story. I burst through the chapel doors, collapsing under the shadow of the cross. I prayed for protection, but a chill swept through me, unnatural and deep.
The windows were shut, but the icy dread seeped into my bones. My heart pounded as my adrenaline spiked. There was no escaping this monstrosity. Either I would fight or I would die
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I watched her disappear into the chapel, her footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. A heavy sigh escaped me—not of relief, but of resignation.
Adjusting my jacket, I gripped the knife hidden in its pocket and walked toward the chapel, my mind in chaos as I tried to justify what I was about to do.
She had to die, but why did it have to be her? Why must I be the killer?
Another sigh escaped me. I strengthened my resolve to kill her despite the protesting voices in my head. "It's all for the greater good, sacrifice one to save the rest."
Entering the chapel , I saw her kneeling beneath the looming shadow of the cross. I stepped forward.
I told myself again, "I had to do it—to survive. She had to die, or we all would."
As I drew closer, I saw her trembling shoulders. She turned at my approach, her face set with strong conviction to face whatever horror that had entered through those doors. Her tear-streaked face lit up with relief when she saw it was me.
"Jesus! it's you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I thought it was… that thing."
Her gaze searched mine, desperate for reassurance, for safety. Her gaze shifted from mine as she stared at the cold tiled floor. She hugged herself tightly, her body shaking.
"I left them back there," she sobbed. "Their screams… I can
still hear them. It's like they're in my head. I left them, I
abandoned them. I shouldn't have—"
"You'll be fine," I interrupted softly, kneeling beside her. My voice was steady, though my heart felt like it might tear through my chest. "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done. And sometimes, we have to put ourselves first before thinking of others, it's what humans do best. I know how you feel."
She buried her face in her knees, her muffled cries echoing through the empty chapel. I reached out, wrapping my arms around her. She clung to me, fragile yet firm, her sobs quieting as I stroked her braided hair.
And then, my other hand moved.
The knife was cold, the steel trembling in my grip. For a moment, I hesitated, watching her fragile form huddled against me. But I couldn't stop. I had to do this.
I struck down—hard and fast.
She gasped, " Why?" She whimpered as she tried pushing me away but her strength failed her. I felt her body stiffen in my arms.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I had to— for myself , for everyone. This is the only way." Tears gathered at the edge of my eyes. Sniffling, I wiped them away. I lowered her to the cold, tiled floor as blood pooled around her. She coughed up blood,her hands weakly clutching at me but they quickly fell limp. Her breath came in shallow gasps, before fading completely, leaving only silence.
I stared at her lifeless form, then at my hands holding the bloody knife. It then hit me— I had just killed someone.
My stomach churned violently, and I stumbled back, retching until there was nothing left.
The guilt hit me like a wave, gnawing at my very soul. My mind raced—questioning, doubting, regretting. Was it the right thing to do? Was it over? Was it enough?
I stood there, alone in the chapel, surrounded by shadows and the weight of my sin. I felt a part of me die along with her.
The knife slipped from my trembling hand, clattering onto the bloodstained floor.
And as I stared at what I had done, I felt the cold emptiness of the ground beneath me creep into my very being.
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I didn't know what else to do. I had sought the truth, and the revelation was something I couldn't bear to think of. My thoughts were stray and scattered.
"Has it come to this?" I wondered.
Shaking my head, I tried to clear out the intrusive thoughts, but they refused to leave. Deep down, I knew there was no other way. It would always come to this—I had known it all along. In all my years of research, my dedicated pursuit of knowledge, I understood that things like this were never resolved by unsophisticated means.
I remembered the promises made that night—the night it happened. My conscience battled with my morals, struggling to decide what was right.
"Is this the only way?" I asked myself.
I looked up and realized this was it. I had to tell everyone, or else it would spiral out of control, and we would all be caught in its grip, dancing to its deadly tune.
I felt heavy, burdened with a weight that was not mine to bear—one far too great for anyone my age to carry. Thinking of the events that had led up to this moment, I knew I had to do something. I had found a solution, yet why did I feel so reluctant? Shame, fear, or the will to survive—which was greater? My stomach twisted at the thought of what had to be done.
Taking a deep breath, I made my decision. I would go to the group and tell them what I had discovered.
A sudden thought struck me. Does he know? It would make sense if he did. No wonder he had been so solemn—he must have known how this would end. The idea that he had known all along yet remained silent sent a flood of unsettling thoughts through my mind.
I arrived at the main auditorium. My gaze immediately found him, and as if sensing my eyes on him, he looked up. I walked across the hall and stood in the middle.
Taking my eyes off him, I looked at the others gathered around. They all appeared exhausted and afraid, unsure whether they would survive. The air was thick with fear and an overwhelming sense of loss.
"I have found a way to stop it and save us from this nightmare," I announced.
The moment the words left my lips, everyone turned to face me. I held my head high, took a deep breath, and continued.
"Although a lot of you may disagree with this idea—"
"Just say it," Ese interrupted, her voice hoarse, her eyes dim with exhaustion.
"What's the worst that you could say? That we have to go fight the damn thing ourselves?" Eniola snapped.
Elizabeth stood up, her sharp gaze locking onto mine. "The silence isn't helping matters. We'd rather have you say what you need to say now instead of wasting our time!"
"Arrogant bitch," I muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. I thought I caught her scoffing in response.
I inhaled deeply before speaking. "It requires an ancient form of sacrifice."
"Sacrifice?" Basset's voice carried urgency. "What are we sacrificing? Goats? Fruits? What is it?"
I met his gaze, my voice steady.
"A human sacrifice."
Silence fell over the room.
"Someone has to die for us to live."
A sharp intake of breath. A shifting of feet. No one spoke.
Then, a voice—low and steady.
"Who?"