Chapter 1: The Night Everything Broke

My younger sister went to be a bridesmaid for her best friend, but that very night, eight groomsmen disgraced her. When I hear am, my blood just freeze. How I go face my mama now? Shame and anger just grip my chest, as if my heart dey pound for my throat.

That time, when my sister told me she was going to the hills for her classmate’s wedding—her best friend—I no gree at all. That hill village get bad name for their wicked wedding wahala, and I dey fear for her safety. From the moment she mention that place, my chest dey tight. Everybody for our area sabi say that hill village dey carry different kinds of story. Na place where elders dey talk say if you no get strong heart, make you no go there after sunset. Their wedding matter dey always come with long gist—some say na juju dey inside, others just dey fear them for their bad custom. My own na to protect my blood, no matter wetin. Since our papa die, na me dey guard am like lion for jungle.

My sister beg me, voice full of worry, say she and her friend dey close well, say she must go. She swear with her life say Halima no go allow any village wahala touch am. She look me for eye, hold my hand small. Her hand dey shake small, but she force smile—"Brother, I beg, no shame me for Halima front." She say, "Halima don stand for me many times. She say nothing go happen. Na only small village people dey fear. You know me, I no too dey put body for party. I go just stay bridesmaid, do my own, then come house."

I gree, but only if I follow her, just to make sure. I tell am, "No wahala, I go follow you. If anything wahala wan show, make dem try am for where I dey. My own eye go dey everywhere." She nod, relief show for her face. For my mind, I dey swear, nothing fit touch my sister.

On the wedding day, everything look normal. The groomsmen act gentle. But for midnight, sudden scream burst from the next room. Party plenty, people dey jolly, dance dey go, but I dey watch with my eye corner. As midnight reach, everywhere quiet small. Even breeze for that hill dey cold like spirit, and at night, you fit hear drum wey no get owner. Na then I hear the kind scream wey no be joke. That kind voice wey go make person blood cold. My body just jump.

I rush enter, na so I see my sister naked, face full of tears, some men dey hold am down, dey do her anyhow.

That moment, my whole body burn like pepper enter my eyes. My leg weak but anger make am strong. The room scatter, cloth for ground, my sister just dey cry, beg. The men, face like animal, no send anybody.

Anger just burst for my body. I grab one heavy wooden stool, charge at them, try rescue my sister. But before long, dem call backup, surround the two of us.

As I raise the stool, I dey shout their names, dey curse them. My voice crack, but I no care. Two men try hold me, I break their hand with the stool. But as more people rush enter, everywhere full. My sister dey cry my name, I dey fight for both of us, but hand too plenty. My sweat dey pour like say I dey run marathon.

My sister’s best friend enter, come dey form like say she dey right, talk say, “Na our village custom—the bridesmaid suppose reward the groomsmen.”

She no even look sorry. She wear her gele well, stand for door, talk with voice wey cold like early harmattan breeze. She look me and my sister as if we be strangers, like say na normal thing dem dey do.

She face my sister, her eyes cold, dey mock. “So what if dem sleep with you? No be say you go lose body. You too dey form madam—make I see how you go take do now.”

She snap finger, roll eye, as if my sister dey do pass herself. Her voice dey loud, all the men dey listen like say she na queen for this village.

E come be say, for this their so-called tradition, dem go invite women to be bridesmaid just so the groomsmen fit use them play. This same ‘best friend’ set my sister up just to destroy her.

For my mind, I dey remember gist from old people—say some wedding for hill village dey always carry wahala for strangers. Dem go use "tradition" as excuse do wickedness. I look Halima, my heart cut. This na person wey chop my mama soup, now she dey use my sister play for ritual. Betrayal full everywhere.

Anger nearly finish me, but for our safety, I try carry my sister run. But her best friend just hiss, “You think say I dey craze, make I allow una go call police?”

She cross hand for chest, block door. Her voice sharp, she dey command the groomsmen like say na military parade. All her fake smile don vanish. She dey show her real self—wicked and proud.

She show her true colour, then order the groomsmen to beat me die.

As she shout, "Beat am!", the men rush me. Some slap, some kick. My sister dey scream, try hold my hand, but dem push her back. For my ear, everything dey dull, like water dey cover am. Na only pain and my sister voice I dey hear.

After I die, my spirit waka comot my body. I just dey look, nothing I fit do, as my sister dey locked up by that her so-called friend for abandoned charcoal kiln behind the hill. Every day, three or five groomsmen go enter, dey torture and disgrace her, until she die.

For my spirit form, I dey float, dey watch everything. The charcoal kiln na old mud house, black with soot. Dem tie my sister leg, mouth cover, she dey beg for help, but nobody dey answer. Every day, the groomsmen dey enter in group, dey do their evil. My heart dey bleed, but spirit no fit touch physical. Rain fall, sun shine, my sister just dey suffer till her soul waka go. Na pain and shame fill my body. Dem say, "If snake bite you for house, na person wey get house you go suspect." Betrayal fit come from where you no expect am.

Next thing, I open my eyes, na to see say I don come back to life, on the night the wedding finish. Outside, eight groomsmen dey look us like hungry dogs.

Suddenly, I breathe in sharp—my body cold, sweat full my palm. I dey back for the night of the wedding, for same compound. All the wicked ones dey there. Na like dream, but pain for my chest real. This time, I swear, I no go fail. This time, I swear, nobody go touch my sister. My mind harden. Dem go see say no be everybody fit use for ritual. Na my turn to fight.