Chapter 4: The Taste of Power

By law, if dem no see evidence, dem suppose release me.

Bisi Adekunle parents and the rest dey look me like say dem fit eat me, but police no go let them do anything.

I waka pass them, some people follow me.

I no sure if na police, Adekunle family, or other girls’ people.

But e no matter. I still drive my keke go school gate as usual.

After exam, crowd full everywhere, I carry passengers. Yes, na ordinary keke driver I be. For school gate, parents dey everywhere, spend money for their pikin, for exam.

By evening, I make small change—enough to buy akara and pure water for myself.

But as I enter my building, gbam! Something hit my head.

I hold my head, think: I know say dem no go leave me.

Dem pour me cold water. My head dey pain, I open eye, see say I dey for one abandoned warehouse for outskirts of town.

Before I fit talk, person drag my hair, force me look the man wey dey sit front.

“Now you don wake, talk. Where my daughter?”

I bone face, look am: “Mr. Adekunle, I don explain for station, I no—”

Before I finish, he frown, his boys land me heavy blow for nose. Pain rush me, my mouth full with blood.

My head dey ring, everywhere dark, then light.

“You know, I no get patience.”

He raise shoe—expensive one—press am for back of my hand, the sole dey peel my skin small small.

Adekunle papa sure say if pain too much, person go talk wetin he dey hide. The smell of leather and cologne mix with my blood for air. Outside, I fit hear faint generator hum—life dey go on, no matter who dey suffer inside. My mouth taste metal and fear, but I press lips together, no wan give am the satisfaction of seeing me cry. This is Nigeria; if you no get power, na so you go taste am for your body—pain, silence, and the echo of your own helplessness.