THE ART OF BREAKING HEARTS

Charlie's Hospital, Woji, Port Harcourt, Nigeria

 The night thick with tension as hurried footsteps echoed through the quiet streets, growing louder as they approached the gates of Charlie's Hospital. Peter's men, their faces etched with panic, rushed toward the entrance, their voices rising in desperate pleas.

 "Open up! Open up, please! It's an emergency!" Peter's group shouted, their voices cracking with urgency.

 The hospital's security guard, a middle-aged man with a stern expression, rushed out from his post. He stood firmly on the other side of the gate, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. "Who are you all?" he barked. "For Christ's sake, check the time! It's already 9 PM, and we're not accepting any patients until tomorrow morning!"

 James, one of the young men, stepped forward, his muscles straining under the weight of Josiah, who lay unconscious on his back. The others moved aside, giving James space as he closed the distance between himself and the guard. With a calm but pleading tone, James spoke, "Sir, please, take a look." He turned slightly, revealing Josiah's bloodied face and the deep injuries covering his body. Turning back to the guard, James continued, "See? They're all hurt and need treatment now. We can't go to another hospital at this hour—some of them might die before we even get there. Please, let us in!"

 The guard's suspicion only grew. He pointed a finger at James, his voice dripping with accusation. "Oh, now I see! You're all thieves, aren't you? You did this to yourselves just so I'd open the gate, and then you'd rob the place! Wonderful plan—but thank God I saw through your lies!"

 James's confusion quickly turned to anger. "No, sir! We're not thieves!" he shouted, his voice trembling. "Our friends are dying! I swear, we didn't come here to steal anything, and you won't lose your job!"

 But the guard only grew angrier. He pulled out a small flashlight and shone it directly into James's face. "Oh, so now you're raising your voice at me? And you still expect me to believe you're not criminals? Get out of here now, or I'll call the police! I'll sound the alarm, and none of you will escape!"

 James clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. "We're only here to get our friends treated! Please, just listen!"

 But the guard refused to reason. He stood his ground, deaf to their desperate pleas. Just as the situation seemed hopeless, Peter, who had been quiet and watching the scene, stepped forward. The others immediately fell silent, parting like waves to let him pass. The air grew heavy with anticipation as Peter approached the gate.

 James, still standing in front of the entrance, glanced at Peter, who gave him a slight shake of the head. Understanding the unspoken command, James stepped aside, and the rest of the group moved back, creating space between Peter and the guard. It was as if they all knew what was coming.

 The guard, sensing the sudden shift in the boys' behavior, pointed a shaky finger at Peter. "Are you the leader of these thieves, boy?"

 Peter's anger simmered beneath the surface, but he kept his voice low and controlled. "Let us in. Please."

 The guard scoffed. "Get lost."

 Those two words were all it took. Peter's patience snapped. His tone turned icy, his words laced with quiet menace. "If that's your final answer, then I guess I have no choice but to force my way in."

 Without another word, his hands tightened around the steel bars of the gate. With a sudden, powerful jerk, he shook the gate—but it didn't budge. The guard's initial surprise turned to laughter. "Ha! Do your worst! This gate is made of reinforced steel—only my employer has the key. And just to be safe, I'm calling the police right now!"

 But Peter wasn't fazed. A cold determination settled in his eyes. In one swift motion, he lifted his right leg and delivered a single, devastating kick.

 BAM!

 The gate, despite its supposed strength, crumpled like paper under the force of Peter's blow. The deafening sound echoed through the neighborhood as the massive structure crashed to the ground.

 The guard stumbled back, his face a mask of shock and fear. He fell onto his backside, staring up at Peter in disbelief. Without hesitation, Peter stepped over the fallen gate and signaled to his members. "Move!"

 The group rushed inside, carrying their injured companions past the broken entrance. Nurses and doctors, alerted by the noise, hurried to assist, immediately beginning treatment.

 Peter, however, stayed outside. He crouched beside the trembling guard, who was now tied up with a length of rope. Leaning in close, Peter spoke in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper—but the threat in his words was unmistakable.

 "Listen carefully," he said, his tone deadly. "If anything happens to any of my friends because of the delay you caused… I'll make sure you pay."

 The guard swallowed hard, his bravado gone.

 The guard, who was the same height as Peter, had sharp brown eyes and messy dark hair. His skinny frame made him look almost fragile, but his voice was full of confidence as he laughed mockingly.

 "I've already sent a text to the police," he said. "They'll be here very soon. And when they arrive, you and your little friends will be arrested."

 Peter didn't say a word. He simply smiled—a slow, knowing smile that made the guard hesitate for just a second.

 Back at Peter's Home – The Living Room

 Meanwhile, inside Peter's house, the living room was buzzing with tension. The room itself was enormous, decorated so beautifully that it could easily hold a hundred people. A massive wall-screen TV dominated one side, while expensive, well-furnished chairs and tables were arranged neatly around the room.

 Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. Everyone turned their heads toward the door.

 It was Dad.

 He walked in with a calm but firm expression, scanning the room before speaking.

 "Alright," he said, "let's begin the meeting. Now that everyone is here."

 Just as he finished speaking, Jubilee—one of Peter's siblings—raised his right hand.

 "Dad… Senior is not present," he said carefully.

 Dad paused, then walked toward his seat at the front of the room, near the television.

 "Oh, that's true," he muttered. "Where is he?"

 Mom, who was sitting next to him, let out a frustrated sigh.

 "It's not where he is," she snapped, "it's what trouble he's causing now. Because the only thing he does is create more and more problems every time he goes out. And somehow, he's never at fault!"

 Dad quickly turned to her, his face hardening.

 "No, no, no—don't talk about my son like that, Love," he said firmly. "He's my firstborn, and I'll raise him the way I want. Besides, he's just like me—exactly how I was when I was little."

 Mom rolled her eyes and hissed in a mocking tone.

 "Like father, like son," she muttered under her breath.

 Dad's eyes narrowed.

 "What do you mean by that, woman?" he demanded.

 Mom turned and glared at him.

 "Oh, so now I'm woman and not Love anymore?" she shot back. "Fine. Then tell us why you called us here, or I'm leaving."

 Dad's face darkened.

 "Try it," he warned, "and I'll deal with you."

 Without hesitation, Mom stood up and raised her fists.

 "Oya, come!" she challenged. "Deal with me! Come, let's kill ourselves!"

 The tension in the room skyrocketed.

 Prosper, the second eldest after Peter and the first daughter, suddenly stood up.

 "Mummy, Dad—please!" she said, her voice strained. "If you two want to kill yourselves, then just tell us! Because I was sleeping before I was called here!"

 Dad's anger flared. He pointed a shaking finger at Prosper.

 "Look at this little child!" he shouted. "Sit down before I unleash my hands on you!"

 Then he turned back to Mom, jabbing his finger in her face.

 "Have you seen what you've done, woman? She's now disrespecting me because you do the same thing right in front of them!"

 Mom hissed, rolled her eyes, and stormed out of the living room, disappearing down the hallway toward her bedroom.

 Dad, still fuming, clenched his fists and walked out as well.

 Jubilee stood up, ready to leave, but Prosper's voice stopped him.

 "Jubilee," she called, "where is Peter?"

 Jubilee turned around, his expression cold.

 "Don't ask me questions," he snapped. "Not after causing the meeting to scatter before it even began."

 Prosper's face twisted in anger.

 "Don't talk to me that way!" she demanded. "Apologize now!"

 Jubilee crossed his arms.

 "I will—after you apologize to Dad and start referring to our brother as Senior, not just by his name. That's our tradition."

 Without waiting for a response, he walked out. Prestige, another sibling, followed silently behind him.

 Now, Prosper was left alone in the empty living room, the tension still hanging in the air.

 Meanwhile – YKC Junction, The Park

 Somewhere else in the city, at YKC Junction, a tall, bald police sergeant rushed toward his captain.

 "Captain!" he panted. "There's an emergency at Charlie's Hospital—right now!"

 The captain's face turned serious.

 "What kind of emergency?"

 To be continued…