Chapter 9: The Crimson Silk
The transformation wasn't complete until the dress came out. It was a slip of silk the color of an arterial spray, vibrant and unapologetic. When Eliana stepped into it, the fabric felt cold against her skin, a stark contrast to the rough cotton of her waitress uniform. The dress hugged every curve she had spent years trying to hide under baggy clothes. It was short, daring, and made her feel exposed in a way that made her want to wrap her arms around herself and disappear.
"Stop that," Anita barked, swatting Eliana's hands away from her chest. "Shoulders back. Chin up. You are a million-naira miracle. If you walk in there looking ashamed, they will eat you alive. You have to believe you are worth every kobo they throw, because your mother's life depends on it." Eliana looked at herself. The girl in the mirror was breathtaking. Her dark skin glowed against the red silk, and the mask gave her an air of dangerous mystery. She looked like a siren from a folk tale, someone who could lead men to their doom.
But inside, Eliana was screaming. She felt like a sacrificial lamb being decorated for the altar. Every time she breathed, the silk shifted, reminding her of the bargain she was making. She thought of the hospital, the smell of antiseptic, and the sound of her mother's shallow gasps. She squeezed her eyes shut behind the mask, forcing the image to stay. One million Naira, she whispered to herself. Five hundred thousand for the deposit. Two hundred for the drugs. Three hundred for the recovery. The numbers became a mantra, a rhythm to drown out the sound of her own heartbeat. She wasn't Eliana anymore. She was a business transaction.