The duo advanced like hungry lions, circling Blake like a prey they had for long craved to peel his flesh and drink his blood.They didn't just move. It was a calculated. Slow but with deadly intents. The heavy black boots on their feet weren't just to walk. It was to kill and the sole looks has gritty edges like something carved from rock.“Let him be. Take me away from here!" Clinton's drained voice cut through the room. He was panting like a cow, hands barely balancing on the cut-out . His face had swollen beyond recognition and his expensive suit which cost more than some people's apartment looks like it was pulled out of the trash.They stepped away from Blake, face tight with frown, their anger unquenched. They glared at him in a way that showed: GET READY FOR WAR.They dragged their boss out of the room like a bag of potato, nearly stumbling as they made their way down the stairs. Murmurs followed them behind.Charred crimson gown shimmered under the ambient glow as she desc

Clinton Kenneth's accusations hit the hall like a fatal blow.Gasps erupted like gas.Heads turned. Big and small. Staring at Blake like a criminal now. His earlier confident resolve that was somehow admired by all vanished like smoke. He was the culprit now.Jemina's jaw fell like a fish fighting for water. She wasn't expecting the vile accusations from Clinton when he was really the actual criminal here.Across the room, Mrs. Smith stood up with an expression that screams: I KNEW IT!Pa. Walter took a step closer, his eyes dark with rage he was managing to restrain.He looked in Clinton's directions, eyes squinted with curiosity.“Did you just say he tired to rape my granddaughter!" His voice boiled with aggression.Oh Hell! Pa. Walter just admitted Jemina is his granddaughter now? A granddaughter he wanted to trade into marriage like a batter goods. Now, because Clinton Kenneth stood in the same room with him, he'd twisted his tongue sweetly.Clinton nodded, a cruel satisfying smir

Blake dragged his bag through, laughter followed, cracking with mockery. Mason cursed loudly, Mrs. Smith leaned with explicable indignation twisting on her face, Pa. Walter's arms crossed at the back with a permanent scowl on his face.Jemina dragged her feet out, tears running from her eyes. Blake was leaving. Where would he stay. He's going to be homeless. The man he loves is going to be on the street. What if he gets hurt by street urchins. Though it didn't align with her, seeing her husband working his ass off for the family and everyone pouring saliva on him. Literarily. But seeing Blake around in the house was far better. Now he's walking away, casted out by her family.She clutched her mother's arm, pulling it and crying with desperation laced in her voice.“Mum..please..beg Grandpa. Please let him stay.. Please..” Her voice cracked with pain.But Mrs. Smith, arms crossed on her bosom, hardened her heart like gravel. She didn't blink, like a mannequin and her daughter's plea

Keith sneered. “Then you'll have me to contend with.” He started, his voice growing louder over the rumble. “This place is a palace now and I am the king in this new kingdom and hell.. I'll never allow a piece of rag like you drag your shit here!” Blake didn't react but he was boiling inside. His fist clenched at his side, droplet rolling down his body.His kingdom? The same place he once lived with his father. It was their palace. Their kingdom and now it was his Kingdom? A cruel joke.Blake looked at the trained guards, inside of their suit were hidden guns which they displayed for him to see.Blake knew Keith is a devil. He never liked him a bit and he won't think twice... maybe he won't even think before ordering his men to shoot him dead.When he turned, he understood. He understood that Walking away is not out of weakness and neither is it out of fear but it is something more...it is respecting ones self, knowing ones worth. He won't stand here and allow Keith, his younger brot

Blake turned and standing at the door, dressed in a flamboyant gown which had lost it's colour is Priscy. She clutched a long book under her a armpit, hair swept back and her beauty seemed to fill the space. Natural and effortless. No makeup.Blake shifted his eyes to see her hand and resting there is his phone. It had cracked on the screen probably frozen by last night's cold.Blake Walked to her and collected it. “Yeah, thanks,” He said, his heart dropping as he stared at the phone. “It's broken.” His voice came low.“Maybe you'll need this. I figured it out. My old phone but its functioning.” She stretched out another phone.Blake stared at her hand, his heart lifting then to her face as he reached out. “Thanks. It'll come in handy.” He was grateful.Priscy simply smiled at him, adjusting the note. “It's nothing. You need it. Bye.” She walked away.“Bye.” Blake said and watched her go before walking back into the cramped room. He inserted his sim card into the phone.“Shit” He cu