CHAPTER ONE: Black December

CHAPTER ONE: Black December

The Harmattan wind whispered through the streets of Lagos, carrying with it the crisp scent of the season. Inside the Anayo residence, the glow of multicolored lights danced across the walls, casting a warm ambiance that contrasted with the cool evening air seeping through the slightly ajar windows.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Jane Anayo stood over a steaming pot of jollof rice, the rich aroma of tomatoes, peppers, and spices filling the room. She stirred meticulously, ensuring the rice absorbed the flavors perfectly. Beside her, a tray of puff-puff rested, golden brown and inviting. The kitchen counter was adorned with bowls of chin chin and plates of moin-moin, each dish a testament to the family's culinary traditions. The refrigerator hummed softly, stocked with bottles of zobo and chilled malt drinks, ready to quench the thirst of anticipated guests that night.

Amber gently pushed open the kitchen door, the savory aroma of simmering stews filling her senses. Her mother, Mrs. Jane Anayo, stood at the counter, meticulously chopping vegetables, her movements precise and practiced.

"Mama, may I speak with you for a moment?" Amber asked softly, her voice tinged with hesitation.

Mrs. Anayo paused, looking up from her task, her eyes reflecting both warmth and curiosity. "Of course, my dear. What is it?"

Amber took a small breath before speaking. "I received a message from Ayotunde. He won't be able to join us for Christmas this year. His duties in Jos require him to stay through the holidays."

A brief shadow crossed Mrs. Anayo's face, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I see." She set down the knife, wiping her hands on a nearby cloth. "It's unfortunate, but his commitment to serving the nation comes first."

Amber nodded, her eyes downcast. "Yes, Mama. He sends his love and promises to visit as soon as he can."

A gentle smile touched Mrs. Anayo's lips. "We must keep him in our prayers, asking for his safety and well-being." She reached out, placing a comforting hand on Amber's shoulder. "At least we have reason to celebrate tonight. Kelsey will be joining us to mark his recent success."

Amber's face brightened at the mention of her younger brother. "Yes, Mama. It's a blessing to have him with us, especially during this time."

Mrs. Anayo nodded, her expression softening. "Family is our greatest strength." She resumed her preparations, the rhythmic chopping resuming its place in the kitchen's symphony. "Now, let's ensure everything is perfect for tonight's celebration."

Amber stepped forward, ready to assist. "I'll set the table and make sure the decorations are in order."

"Thank you, my dear," Mrs. Anayo replied, her voice filled with gratitude. "Together, we'll make this a memorable evening."

As mother and daughter worked side by side, the bond of family enveloped them, providing warmth and comfort amidst the challenges they faced.

In the living room, Mr. Dennis Anayo adjusted the ornaments on the artificial Christmas tree, a centerpiece of their holiday décor. The tree stood tall, its branches adorned with tinsel, baubles, and a star perched at the very top. The walls were lined with strings of fairy lights, their gentle twinkling mirroring the excitement in the household. On the stereo, a classic carol played softly, blending harmoniously with the distant echoes of fireworks - 'knock-outs' as they were locally known - being set off by neighborhood children.

A few moments later, the Anayo family gathered in the dining room, waiting for Kelsey.

Mr. Dennis Anayo sat at the head of the dining table, his fingers tapping restlessly against the polished wood. His brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched, and an air of impatience lingered around him like a storm cloud. The warm glow of the chandelier above them cast flickering shadows across the grand table, which was laden with a feast fit for royalty. Steam rose from freshly prepared pounded yam and egusi soup, bowls of spicy jollof rice, grilled tilapia, and an assortment of native delicacies. The aroma of rich spices filled the room, teasing their senses, but no one had touched their plates. They were waiting.

Jane Anayo, his wife, adjusted her shawl and sighed, stealing a glance at her husband. "Dennis, relax. Kelsey will be here soon. You know how these things are. He's probably stuck in traffic."

Dennis scoffed. "Traffic? At this hour? On Christmas Eve? He knows we always eat together on this night. Yet, here we are, waiting for him while the food gets cold!"

Amber, their eldest daughter, gave a small chuckle. "Dad, you're acting as if Kelsey is still a child. He's a grown man now - a lawyer, remember? He's probably soaking in his victory."

Dennis let out a huff, but pride flickered in his eyes. "His first case... and he won it. Our boy is truly making us proud."

Still, impatience gnawed at him. With a decisive nod, he grabbed his phone and dialed Kelsey's number. It rang twice before the voice of his son came through.

"Dad!"

Dennis' lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "Kelsey, my boy! Congratulations! You did it! You won your first case! I always knew you had it in you."

"Thank you, Dad." Kelsey's voice was warm, full of gratitude.

"Yes, yes, but where are you? The food is getting cold. We're all waiting for you."

"I'm close to the house, Dad. I'll be there soon."

Jane clapped her hands in excitement. "Hurry, my dear! We are waiting for you!"

"I will, Mom."

Amber leaned in with a grin. "Kelsey, you better hurry before I finish your portion."

Kelsey chuckled. "I'll be there soon enough."

Dennis ended the call and leaned back, his previous irritation replaced with joy. "Our son, the lawyer! We raised him well."

Jane beamed, placing a hand on her husband's arm. "Yes, we did."

Amber raised her glass. "To Kelsey!"

Just as they all raised their drinks to toast, a loud, firm knock echoed through the house.

"That must be him!" Jane said, her face lighting up.

Amber practically leaped from her chair, rushing to the door with an excited bounce in her step. She pulled it open with a wide smile -

And froze.

Five men stood in the doorway, their faces concealed beneath black masks. The dim light from the hallway caught the gleaming barrels of their guns. The tallest one, standing at the center, stepped forward. His grip on his rifle was firm, his presence suffocating.

Amber's breath caught in her throat. She tried to slam the door shut, but a strong hand shoved it open, sending her stumbling backward.

"Don't make a sound," the deep voice of the leader warned. "Unless you want to die."

Amber trembled, her heart pounding violently against her ribs. Her legs felt like jelly, refusing to move as the men stormed into the house. The dining room, once filled with warmth and celebration, became a chamber of horror. Mr. and Mrs. Anayo barely had time to react before the men forced them onto the floor at gunpoint.

"Face down!" the leader barked.

Dennis and Jane obeyed immediately, their bodies trembling against the cool tiles. Amber remained frozen, her eyes wide with terror. One of the masked men grabbed her arm and dragged her forward, shoving her toward the dining area where her parents lay in fear.

The leader - Damilare - slowly lowered himself onto one of the dining chairs. He surveyed the feast before him, a ghost of amusement crossing his hardened face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gun never leaving his grip.

"Where is Kelsey?" His voice was calm, almost casual, but there was an underlying threat woven into every syllable.

Dennis swallowed hard. "I swear...we don't know where he is. He isn't home yet."

Jane's voice cracked as she pleaded, "Please...he's not here yet. We have no idea where he is."

Damilare's eyes darkened. He was a man of quick temper and little patience. He gestured to his men. "Search the house. If you find him, I'll make sure none of them live to see tomorrow."

Two of the men rushed off, their heavy boots thudding against the floor as they ransacked every corner of the house. Minutes later, they returned, shaking their heads. "Boss, he's not here."

Damilare's expression hardened. "So, he's not home?" He exhaled sharply before tilting his head to the side. "Then you will all pay for him."

"No! Please!" Jane screamed, tears streaming down her face.

"Mercy, please!" Amber sobbed, clutching at her father's sleeve.

Damilare clicked his tongue, as though bored by their cries. Then, in a swift motion, he cocked his pistol and pressed it to Dennis' forehead. Before anyone could react, the gunshot rang out, echoing through the house.

Dennis Anayo collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.

"No!" Jane shrieked, her cries piercing through the night.

But Damilare did not flinch. He turned the gun to Jane and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger. Another shot. Another body hit the floor.

Amber screamed, shaking violently as she fell to her knees. "Please...please don't kill me!"

Damilare stepped toward her, his gun leveled at her forehead. Her breath hitched, waiting for the inevitable shot.

But then, he lowered the gun.

He leaned in, his dark eyes burning into hers. "Take a message to Kelsey. Tell him he hasn't won anything. Hiding will not save him."

Amber shuddered, nodding rapidly, anything to keep him from pulling the trigger.

Damilare smirked, turning away. But just as Amber thought it was over, he stopped. He turned back and made a small hand gesture.

His men lunged forward, grabbing Amber roughly. She let out a terrified scream, but it was drowned out by Damilare's cold laughter.

Christmas Eve had turned into a black December for the Anayo family.

Amber's screams pierced the cold night air, desperate and raw, but the darkness swallowed her cries. The two men restraining her were like immovable pillars, their grip like iron shackles on her wrists. She twisted, kicked, and writhed, but it was futile - their strength far outmatched hers.

"Please! Please!!" she sobbed, her voice cracking under the weight of fear. "Don't kill me! Please, I beg you!"

Her breath came in frantic gasps as she thrashed against their unyielding hold, but there was no mercy in their grasp, no hesitation in their actions.

Damilare stood before her, his presence as ominous as the deathly silence that followed her pleas. His entire form was cloaked in black, from the heavy leather gloves on his hands to the ski mask that concealed his face. Only his eyes - cold and calculating - peered through the darkness, glinting like twin daggers in the dim light.

Amber's chest rose and fell in erratic rhythm as she struggled to see beyond the mask, to find something - anything - that would reveal who he was beneath it. But there was nothing. Just those eyes. And the gun.

The sleek pistol in his gloved hand gleamed under the faint light, its presence suffocating, pressing into the space between them like an unspoken threat. Her blood ran cold as Damilare tilted his head slightly, his voice low, smooth, almost eerily calm.

"Don't fight it," he murmured. "I'll be slow with you."

Amber's stomach churned with terror, bile rising in her throat. She yanked against the men's grip with newfound desperation, her body thrashing wildly. She would not surrender. Not like this.

But they were too strong. Their hands held her firm, shoving her back, keeping her pinned like a helpless animal before the predator who watched her with unreadable intent.

The night stretched on, silent except for Amber's muffled sobs and the sound of her struggles growing weaker, drowned beneath the suffocating weight of fate closing in.

Amber lay on the cold, unforgiving ground, her body trembling with pain and humiliation. Her dress was torn, barely covering her battered form. Blood seeped from between her thighs, staining the polished floor beneath her. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as she curled into herself, wrapping her arms around her quivering body in a feeble attempt to shield what was already broken.

Damilare stood over her, his expression hidden behind the dark ski mask. He zipped his trousers with an air of finality, his movements slow, calculated. There was no remorse in his stance, no hesitation as he turned his head slightly and flicked his wrist - a silent command.

His men obeyed instantly, releasing their grip on Amber and stepping back. Without a word, they followed their leader into the shadows, their boots crunching against the gravel as they disappeared into the night outside.

Amber remained still, her body wracked with silent sobs. Her once vibrant eyes, filled with terror and agony, now stared blankly at the dark sky above, that were filtering through the window blinds. The stars blurred through her unshed tears, distant and indifferent, as though the universe had turned its back on her suffering.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to claw at the earth beneath her, to drag herself away from this place, but her limbs felt heavy, unresponsive as the floor were made of marbles. The echoes of their laughter, the scent of their sweat, the weight of their hands - all of it clung to her like a suffocating shroud.

A sharp gust of wind blew through the empty street, seeping through the windows, whispering against her bruised skin. She shivered, not from the cold, but from the crushing realization that she was alone. Alone with her pain. Alone with the darkness.

The night stretched on, silent and cruel, as Amber lay there in the house - broken, bleeding, and forgotten.

Exactly ten minutes after the massacre in Mr. Dennis' house.

Kelsey stepped into the house, his heart brimming with excitement as he called out, "Mom! Dad! Amber! I'm home!" The warmth of victory still coursed through his veins from winning his first court case, and he couldn't wait to celebrate with his family. The air smelled of rich spices, the remnants of the Christmas Eve feast they had prepared, and he smiled, imagining his mother's joyful embrace and his father's proud nod.

But as he stepped further in, the eerie silence gnawed at him. Something was wrong.

His steps slowed. His pulse quickened. The dining table, once a symbol of togetherness, was now a grotesque crime scene. His father, Mr. Dennis Anayo, lay sprawled across the floor, a dark pool of blood widening beneath his head. His mother, Mrs. Jane Anayo, was slumped in her chair, her once-loving eyes now lifeless, staring at nothing. The room, which should have been filled with laughter and clinking glasses, was now frozen in horror.

Kelsey's breath hitched in his throat. His knees weakened, and he staggered forward, his mind refusing to accept what his eyes beheld. "No... no, no, no! Dad? Mom?" His voice cracked as he rushed toward them, dropping to his knees, his trembling hands reaching out to shake them as if his touch could stir them back to life. "Mom, please... please wake up!"

But they were gone.

A choked sob tore from his throat as his fingers pressed against their still-warm skin. Tears blurred his vision, and his chest constricted with an unbearable ache. His parents - his foundation, his guiding light - were taken from him in the most brutal manner.

A low, weak groan snapped his attention away.

His head jerked toward the sound, and his blood ran cold at the sight of Amber.

She lay crumpled on the floor near the dining table, her dress torn and stained, her hair disheveled. Her breathing was shallow, her body limp. Kelsey scrambled toward her, his hands shaking as he cupped her face. "Amber! Amber, wake up!" His voice was urgent, frantic. He gently tapped her cheeks, but she barely stirred.

His mind raced, fury and despair warring within him. Who had done this? Why?

Kelsey clenched his jaw, his fists trembling. He would not let this horror go unanswered. But first, he needed to get Amber to safety. He needed to call for help. His grief and rage could wait - his sister needed him.

With his heart pounding, he reached for his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed for emergency assistance, his mind already burning with the need for justice. He would find whoever did this. And he would make them pay.

The following morning.

Kelsey sat by Amber's hospital bed, his hands trembling as he clutched her limp fingers. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor was the only sign that she was still alive. His face was streaked with tears, his eyes swollen from hours of weeping. The sterile white walls of the hospital room closed in on him, suffocating him with the weight of loss and helplessness. His sobs were raw, guttural, echoing through the silent room as he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Amber... I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

His heart clenched painfully as he looked at his sister's face. Her eyes remained shut, her skin pale and bruised. The strong, lively Amber he knew was gone, replaced by this fragile shell. The thought of what she had endured made his stomach churn with rage and sorrow. He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Then, the sound of hurried boots against the tiled floor broke through his grief. He looked up just in time to see his elder brother, Ayotunde, stride into the ward, still clad in his army uniform. His presence was commanding, but the moment he saw Kelsey's broken state, his expression softened with deep concern.

"Kelsey..." Ayotunde's voice was firm but gentle as he knelt beside his younger brother, gripping his shoulders. "Omo mi, stand strong. What happened? What happened to our family?"

Kelsey couldn't speak. Instead, he collapsed into his brother's embrace, his sobs wracking his body. Ayotunde held him tightly, his grip steady, as if he could physically hold Kelsey together while he shattered. His own heart ached, but he knew he had to be strong - for Kelsey, for Amber, for the family they had lost.

Minutes passed before Kelsey could even form words. "They're gone, Ayotunde... Mom and Dad... They're gone." His voice was hoarse, broken beyond repair.

Ayotunde closed his eyes for a brief moment, his jaw tightening. He let out a slow breath, pushing down his grief. Now was not the time for weakness. He had seen death before, in the battlefield, but nothing could have prepared him for losing his parents like this. He clenched his fists. Whoever did this would pay.

Before he could respond, the door creaked open, and a doctor stepped in. His white coat was crisp, his face a mixture of professionalism and sympathy. He looked at the two brothers with somber eyes. "Mr. Kelsey, Mr. Ayotunde, I need to speak with both of you. Please, follow me to my office."

Kelsey wiped his face roughly, sniffing, while Ayotunde gave a firm nod. Together, they followed the doctor down the quiet hallway, their boots echoing in sync. Kelsey felt like he was walking through a nightmare, his body numb, his mind in turmoil.

Inside the doctor's office, they sat across from the physician, who folded his hands on the desk and took a deep breath before speaking. "I won't sugarcoat it. Your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Anayo, did not survive. They were already deceased by the time they arrived at the hospital. I'm very sorry for your loss."

A sharp, painful gasp escaped Kelsey's lips. His breath came in ragged spurts, his body trembling again. He had known, deep down, but hearing it aloud made it all the more real. His parents were truly gone. Forever. Ayotunde remained silent, his face carved from stone, but his knuckles turned white as he gripped the arms of the chair.

The doctor hesitated before continuing. "Amber... she survived. But she was terribly brutalized. Her injuries suggest extreme sexual violence. She's unconscious now, but we're monitoring her closely. She will need time, medical care, and emotional support to recover from this."

Kelsey let out a strangled sob, his hands clawing at his face as he rocked slightly in his seat. Ayotunde inhaled deeply, his gaze darkening.