Chapter 3: Touch of Taboo, Cry for Help

Oche try carry me for waist.

The moment e hand touch me, I feel shiver. E dey like say my body know say no be Oche e dey find.

I shout, "No touch me! I no dey feel bad again!"

My voice loud, I no care who hear. I wan make e leave me alone.

Oche face squeeze, e vex. "Amaka, which kind play be this? You dey use person play? So na fake sickness you dey do just to get attention."

Oche eyes dey sharp, as if e dey search my soul for answer. E vex dey real.

E hiss, "Amaka, when you go finally get sense, behave like Halima wey dey gentle and calm?"

Oche tone dey insult me, but I no send again. E pain me, but my mind don travel.

I squeeze my palm sotay blood nearly come out. I dey use pain take hold myself, dey try balance for ground.

My lips full of small small teeth mark. I no gree make sound, if not, na moan for comot. I bite am sotay blood fit draw. The shame and the urge dey fight for my chest. I bite my lip, whisper small prayer for my mind—God abeg, make this madness pass.

Oche just leave me. E waka away, as if my matter no be him problem again. I no even look back.

I waka go guest room where council secretary, Lanre, dey stay. The corridor quiet. My wrapper dey drag for ground. My step dey heavy, but I dey stubborn. Floorboard creak under my leg, somewhere for compound, night cricket dey sing.

My finger dey shake as I knock him door. I knock sotay my knuckle red. I dey hope say e go open. I wait sotay I nearly lose control, wan burst enter. The urge dey push me. My heart dey pound for my chest like bata drum.

Finally, two slim, strong hands open the door. The door open gently, no creak, just soft. E be like say person wey dey behind dey wait for me.

"Miss Amaka, you sure say you no knock wrong door? This no be chief house o. Night don reach, the person you dey find no dey here."

Lanre voice cold, e get this way of talking wey dey chill person to bone. E dey command respect without shout. Him cold, clear voice be like water, like ice dey jam stone. E voice calm, but e get silent thunder inside. I dey feel am for my skin.

For one moment, the fire inside me cool—but e come burn stronger. Na like say my mind just dey play with me. The relief and the hunger mix together, dey do war.

WhatsApp comments just dey fly:

[He too care. Everyday wey you no show, na under him wrapper e dey cry for night. Later e go write Oche name for shoe sole, dey march am.]

[No let him cold face deceive you—na real crybaby...]

[Everytime you call am A'brother, e finger dey shake. Later, as you dey bite him ear dey call am A'brother, e go dey heaven.]

The comments just dey rush my brain. E be like say all my secret dey public, people dey watch me for inside phone. I wan block my ear, but the comments just dey ring for my head, loud like market women for Mile 12.

WhatsApp comments just dey roll. The scrolling dey make me dizzy. For Naija, gossip fit spread like wild fire—now na my own dey trend for spirit world.

My eye red, I no even see road, na only Lanre I dey see. E stand dey look me, him eye dey sharp but e get small pity. E be like say e dey see through my wahala.

E just stand for me front with him white singlet and wrapper, collarbone clear and fine. E dey wear wrapper, the real type, not those oyibo pajama. The singlet cling to him body, show all the lines. Na real man, nothing fake. Him long black hair reach him neck, whole body dey smell like cool shea butter. Shea butter and fresh soap—na that kain smell wey dey remind person of home after long journey.

The shea butter smell remind me of home, of village compound after rainfall, when everything dey fresh. E just dey make me wan pull am come down from cloud, drag am enter this world, make I mark am as my own.

The urge choke me. For my heart, I dey reason wetin go happen if I cross line. Na taboo, but who dey watch? I wan see as him eye go red, see as e go cry if e no fit hold am.

I dey imagine am, dey dream say maybe na me dey make am lose guard. My eye just dey follow from him collarbone to him slim waist, then go down...

I dey shame small, but desire no gree let me look away. I dey count him breath, dey feel my own join.