I know I'm a bad bitch. Not because I dress the loudest or walk the fastest, but because I own myself. And I'm not stopping until I have everything I desire.
My name is Purple, but my friends?. They call me Baby Purple. And honestly, I love it. There's something about that "baby" that touches a part of me I never show the world… A part that's still searching. I didn't get to meet my mother. Daddy told me she died giving birth to me. Hm. Bad luck, right? A whole life enters this world by taking another. They say children are blessings. But sometimes I wonder… was I a curse? If not, why would my mother lose her life while trying to give birth to me?
I was raised by a carousel of nannies, some with long faces, others with fake smiles. Even when Daddy married Mommy Peace, I never felt what people call "home."
Growing up, I had distanced myself from her and her daughter, especially as that girl would always come home with better grades than me. But thank God, my father didn't care about her. He gave me all the love I deserved, and as her only child, I lacked nothing. And deep down, I never stopped wanting my real mother. Daddy? He loves me. That, I know. But he was never really there. If he wasn't flying to another country, he was drinking in clubs or entertaining women young enough to be my classmates.
And now there's Star. My step-sister. My age mate. My complete opposite. She acts all innocent and humble, like some over-pampered book fairy. But to me?
She's just a nobody, a shadow trying to exist in my light. I can't stand her touching my things. We may share a house, but we don't share a class.
She's the type of girl who calls a five thousand naira dress expensive, and I'm the girl who throws away a wig if the lace doesn't blend well. We are not the same.
When her mother died, I watched her cry. I felt something… maybe pity. But that was it. Because I've lived without my mother since the day I took my first breath. And nobody shed tears for me. So why should hers be special?
They said her mum overdosed. I believe it. She looked like the type of woman who carried pain in silence, always sneaking pills, always pretending to be okay.
Maybe karma came for her. Who knows? That's her nemesis.
Me? I live on the wild side. I party. I flirt. I trend. The party can't be lively without my presence. I'd rather wake up in a club than sit through a boring lecture.
While Star is buried in books and handouts, I'm busy filming IG content and chatting with foreign guys who know what they want, and know how to pay.
Yes, I've been making nude videos since junior secondary school. It started the day Daddy bought me my first smartphone. And since then? It became a game. WhatsApp video calls. Daring Instagram DMs. Some of them begged to see my breasts. Some just wanted me naked. And I? I gave them what they wanted. I didn't care, and especially as there were no emotional feelings attached.
It felt normal. I didn't see anything wrong with it. And even now? I'm still in the game. I would prefer dancing in my father's club house, rather than being in a lecture room. Am just a young girl with no mother to guide me, if not how do I explain that I have had six abortions? The last one was performed surgically, since my regular pills failed to remove the fetus.
But there's something… someone… who makes me feel something real. Miguel. We were classmates since junior secondary. He was always so calm, so fine, so rich. My type, down to the bone. I fell. Hard. Even planned my entire university life around him. I chose this school because he said he was coming here, and had studied the same course, just to be close to him.
But he's never loved me back. Even with all my efforts, dressing hotter, looking finer, laughing louder, he still sees me as just a friend.
And now? Now I hear he's been spending time with Star. Star? The same girl who has nothing but a bookshelf and sad eyes? The same girl who doesn't even know how to dress or flirt? What does he see in her?
I've been watching. Following from a distance. And the rumors? They're true. I've seen them together, laughing, driving, sitting close.
'She thinks she's in love? She thinks he is hers? Hmph.'
She's playing with fire. She needs to understand her place in this world. She needs to know that what's mine stays mine. No one dares to steal from me and walk away smiling. Not even a person who considers herself blood, but the truth is that we ain't related in any way.
I flipped the last page of my diary and hissed.
"Nobody dares me and goes scot-free," I muttered.
With finality, I slammed the diary shut and placed it beside my soft, purple coloured teddy bear, the one Daddy brought back from China on his last business trip. Then I lay down on my king-sized bed, still boiling inside.
But the room was cold. The silence wrapped around me. And finally, I closed my eyes, but I didn't sleep.
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Dirty Game
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The doorbell rang sharply. Miguel, still in his joggers and home slippers, wiped his hands with a napkin as he walked toward the front door. He wasn't expecting anyone, especially not her. As soon as he opened it, his face changed.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, his voice calm but cold.
Purple tilted her head with a fake smile.
"I've always been here, Miguel. Since we were kids, remember?"
He sighed. "Look, Purple..."
"Am I not welcome anymore?" she cut in.
He paused for a moment. "You are," he said, stepping aside and opening the door wider. "Come in."
She walked in with the confidence of a queen, her heels clicking against the marble floor, hips swaying, her perfume lingering in the air. She sat comfortably on the animal skin couch, crossing her legs with practiced elegance.
Miguel followed and slumped down beside her. He looked drained.
"What should I offer you?" he asked half-heartedly.
Purple giggled. "Don't stress yourself, baby. I brought something for you."
Miguel arched a brow. Purple unzipped her trademark purple bag and pulled out a glossy, ribboned box.
"Guess what's inside?" she asked, eyes sparkling.
"I'm not really in the mood for games, Purple."
She ignored the comment and peeled open the box, exposing the Chocolate bars. That's his favorite and his weakness. He had loved chocolate since he was a kid, and he had lots of it in his refrigerator, but this one, obviously, is imported; he must surely have a taste of it.
"I remembered," she said softly. "Like old times."
His expression softened just a bit. She reached over and fed him the first piece. He accepted it. The taste hit him immediately, sweet, rich, familiar, and comforting.
"Damn," he murmured. "You're good."
Purple giggled. "You always say that."
Another piece followed. Then another. Miguel couldn't resist. He reached for more himself. Within minutes, the entire box was empty.
He stood to grab water from the fridge, but staggered slightly.
"Whoa," he muttered, holding his head. "I'm dizzy."
Purple stood, her expression unreadable.
"Maybe you just need to lie down for a bit," she said, guiding him gently toward the passage, to his room.
Inside his room, she helped him onto the bed. Miguel lay flat, rubbing his eyes. His breath slowed. Purple watched him carefully, eyes gleaming like someone about to claim a prize. She reached down and pulled off his singlet.
"Perfect," she whispered, running her hands down his chest.
Then she undid his shorts. As she reached his boxers, her fingers froze.
"Damn," she said, stunned by what she saw. "Today, you're mine."
She quickly undressed herself, short purple gown, bra, thong, all discarded beside the bed like fallen petals. She climbed into the bed beside him, but Miguel didn't stir. Instead, his body shifted slightly… and then stilled.
He had passed out.
Purple stared at him, her heart racing. She touched his face, gently slapped his cheek.
"Miguel," she called softly, "Wake up."
The young man was fast asleep; she had only wanted to induce him a little and have a thirst of him, but he had finished the whole of the chocolate bar.
She sighed in frustration. This wasn't what she planned. She looked at her reflection in the mirror across the room, naked, humiliated, furious. But she can't be the loser, she scratched her head thinking of ideas, and a very bad one just popped up.
She grabbed her iPhone, lay beside Miguel, and without thinking, took a picture, herself beside him, close enough to look intimate, but not close enough to show anything illegal.
"Click."The camera sound echoed in the silence.
"Plan A failed," she said bitterly. "Plan B… activated."
She got off the bed, redressed slowly, and fixed her hair in the mirror. Then she looked back at Miguel, peacefully asleep, and completely unaware.
"I told you," she whispered as she adjusted her purple heels. "If I can't have you… Nobody else will."
She picked up her bag, slid her phone inside, and walked out without looking back.