The choice II - by Laseeee

Before we return to the room, you should remember that this story is not moving on its own.It is responding. Every turn it takes is shaped by suggestions, by arguments, by what you thought should happen next and what you insisted must not.So if this part feels heavier, slower, harder to sit with...that weight did not come from nowhere.Now let's get back into the story The gun felt heavier than Bisola expected.Not because of the metal.But because of what it was asking her to carry.Her fingers trembled around it. Cold. Real. Final.Think, she told herself.Think, Bisola. You’ve solved harder things than this.Her eyes darted to the man in front of her.He was alone.No backup. No second voice. No footsteps behind him.Just one man. One gun. One room.If I shoot him, her mind whispered, fast and desperate, this ends. I save everyone. This is not even a choice.Her heart slammed against her ribs.He’s human. He bleeds. He dies.Arinze’s eyes widened.A tiny shake of his head.Tobi was crying quietly now. Hiccupping sobs that sliced straight through her chest.Bisola raised the gun.Pointed it at the captor’s chest.Pulled the trigger.Click.Nothing.For a second, the world froze.Then pain exploded across her face.The man backhanded her so hard the room tilted. The chair scraped violently against the floor. Her ears rang.She tasted blood.“You think say na film?” he snapped, crouching in front of her. “You think say you smart?”Her vision blurred, but she was still thinking.Still calculating.Still hoping.He stood, walked back to the table, and picked up something small.Bullets.One by one, he slid them into the chamber.The sound was slow.Deliberate.Final.Like this.One.Click.Two.Click.Bisola’s breath came shallow now. Her cheek throbbed. The gun was no longer in her hands. It felt farther away than the door. Farther than help.Three.Click.Arinze strained violently against the rope.“Hey,” he said hoarsely. “Hey!”The man ignored him. Snapped the chamber shut.Tobi’s quiet crying broke into something louder. Raw. Uncontrolled.Arinze’s voice cracked.“Leave her,” he said. “I’m the one you want. I’m here.”The man laughed softly.“You men,” he said calmly, “always brave when na woman first try die.”He turned then. Finally faced them.The gun rested loosely in his hand, pointing it at Tobi.“Please,” Arinze said. Not begging. Pleading. “Please. He’s just a boy. I will do anything.”The man tilted his head.“Anything?”“Yes.”The word came too fast. Too easy.“Shut up.”The man said it as he walked back to Bisola.“You see why I like this?” he asked quietly. “Everybody dey find how to be hero.”He straightened and turned away from her.The gun stayed in his hand.Bisola’s stomach dropped.“No,” Arinze said quickly. “Please. Please, just—just listen to me.”The man didn’t even look at him.He adjusted his grip.The gun came up.Not toward Bisola.Not toward Arinze.Toward Tobi.Bisola sucked in a sharp breath.“This time,” the man said calmly, “you no go fire.”He glanced at her.“I go fire.”Arinze made a broken sound."And you no fit pick yourself because all of Una go die"“Please,” he said again, frantic now. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t use her. Use me.”“Ah,” the man said, amused. “See hero again.”He looked at Bisola.“Second chance,” he told her. “Last one.”Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.Her mind snapped back into motion.Fast. Sharp. Ruthless.If I choose Arinze, Tobi grows up knowing his father died because of him.If I choose Tobi, Arinze lives with that loss forever.Either way, someone survives carrying the damage.The gun didn’t move.The man waited.She felt something cold settle in her chest.What if the cruelty isn’t the killing?What if it’s the living after?“If you kill one,” Bisola said slowly, her voice shaking but clear, “the other one doesn’t escape this. They just suffer longer.”Arinze stared at her.“Bisola,” he whispered. “Stop.”She didn’t look at him.“You’re not asking me to choose who dies,” she continued. “You’re asking me to choose who lives with it.”The man smiled.“Sharp girl.”Bisola closed her eyes.Then opened them.“Both,” she said.The word dropped into the room like a verdict.Arinze screamed.“No! No, no, no!” He struggled violently. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying!”Bisola finally turned to him.“I'm sorry it's the only way without hurting you two,” she said quietly. The man laughed.Deep. Satisfied.“Please,” Arinze cried. “Don’t listen to her. Let me choose.”The laughter stopped.The man turned slowly.“Oh?”He stepped closer to Arinze.“Okay,” he said. “You pick.”The gun lowered slightly.“Your madam and pikin go die” the man said. “And you walk out. Free.”Arinze’s breath hitched.Bisola’s chest tightened.“Or,” the man continued, “I allow your wife commot.”He leaned in.“And you and your son go die.”Silence swallowed the room.The choice hung there.Heavy.Unavoidable.And this time it wasn’t Bisola’s.... Before you decide how to feel about Bisola,remember this:She did not act alone.She was responding.To pressure.To fear.To logic.To suggestions that demanded consequences instead of comfort.This story has been shaped in conversation, revised, bent, and sharpened for flow and honesty.So before you hate her, ask yourself what you would have donewith the same informationin the same roomwith the same clock ticking.Now the question is no longer hers.What should Arinze do?Should he choose his life or his wife's?should there be a Part Three?

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