In a frenzy, I pulled my 9mm parabellum pistol from underneath my seat and ran towards his car, holding it close to my chest. As thought it was a stethoscope measuring my heart rate, my heart beat frantically against this weapon that was manufactured for a single purpose. To kill.

Hoards of onlookers cleared a way as I approached. Some taking their children away from what was soon to become a scene filled with blood. I had one thing in mind. I had no doubt I was justified in my actions. Once I reached the vehicle, I bit my lower like, pointed my weapon at his head and fired twice. It silenced his violent screams. His sister thanked me with a kiss on the cheek. She told me she appreciated my bravery in affording her brother a dignified death.

Traffic backed up for about a kilometre, with most people out of their vehicles to get a good view. A scene of a collision between sedan and a petrol truck. The BMW M3 pierced right through the belly of the truck and immediately caught fire. Wails from the driver sent shivers down everyone’s spine. It was a scream straight out of a tormented soul. Hell’s soundtrack. His door had crashed against the truck and it appeared his feet were trapped too. His screams were intermittent and varied in noise levels. He sounded like he was violently shouting a woman’s name, while he struggled to release a seat-belt that had already caught fire. He was grilling. Smell of burning flesh filled the air like a cloud of gathering rain. “Auwww, shame. Sizani bo.” some said. We all felt helpless. Then I resolved to end his misery. I fired two shots straight to his temple and his suffering ended

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