Chiamanda walked down the stairs with mixed feelings, fear, anger and disgust. She had just been told that Mr Lucas called for her and she knows what it's going to happen, but with bile building up in her throat , she pushed the door open and met the old, fat teacher who enjoys sleeping with her alot.
""Omalicha, walk fast na," he said, his voice slick with mock affection.
The closer she got, the heavier her steps became. Before she could speak, his rough hand pulled her forward, and she felt the air leave her chest. His grip was like iron, pressing her down, trapping her.
Chiamanda clenched her jaw, staring ahead with a blank face. She had learned long ago that showing fear only pleased him.
"Chi?" he called again when she didn't respond, irritation creeping into his tone.
Her silence enraged him. With sudden force, he shoved her against the table. Papers scattered, a pen rolled to the floor. Chiamanda's breath hitched, but she didn't cry out. She refused to give him that satisfaction.
He loomed over her, spitting vile words, trying to break her will. His hands were cruel, his presence suffocating. To him, she was not a student, not a child, not a human being—just another plaything.
But to Chiamanda, the world had gone quiet. She felt nothing. She became nothing. Just a lifeless brown doll, waiting for the storm to pass.
Lucas Abiodun was the name of this ugly creature who was having sex with his student, happily. Married with five children, he didn't see it as an excuse not to have fun and particularly took interest in young girls like Chiamanda. He did his fancy with Chiamanda for a hour which was all of her break time before letting her go with a dirty kiss which she evaded and landed on her neck, he didn't mind only saying he would miss her since today was a friday.
Chiamanda walked like a person without soul an thank goodness that no teacher or student was around unless they would have known what happened to her. She found her way to the washroom and began to rinse herself, but her eyes was dull.
Suddenly one of the cubicle open revealing a tall, slender, fair girl named Gladys. She sneered at Chiamanda when she saw her and her eyes held no atom of pity for her classmate.
"You've met Mr Lucas again, sey? You are nothing but a prostitute, just like your sister, yet you walk high and mighty like you were better than me, whereas it's the same man that f7cks me and you." She hissed and said "rubbish." Before walking out.
Chiamanda didn't go home after school, but straight to a bar, not just any bar, but a high end bar.
She brought out a card and requested for their strongest alcohol, which she was promptly given.
She drank till her eyes began to spin and the world turned hazy, but she didn't care. She stood and walked into the midst of gyrating bodies and found herself a handsome man, they began to move like other couples and the man reached for her breasts and she recoiled, the memory of what happened still fresh in her head. Pushing the man away she went for another and they all tried the same thing, why not? Her hips and buttocks were big enough to drive any man crazy and her breast were a pleasure to the flesh, not to mention her beauty, which made one want to keep her with her almond shaped eyes which were seductiveand alluring, straight nose, full lips and high cheekbones. Her beauty made one to stop and contemplate, it was not the kind that was stunning but the kind that was in the majesty of the sunset not the exuberance of the sunlight.
Making her way home was worse for Chiamanda as she wobbled all the way there and even tripped, but she made it. The door was unlocked as usual and she entered just to meet a handsome, dark-skinned man, staring at her with bewitching eyes.
"Who the hell are you?" She slurred, showing how stoned she was.
"Someone who you are suppose to have met a long time ago." He replied, confusion the already confused Chiamanda. Then her brain clicked.
"One of my sister costumers, eh?" Her grip on tye door loosened and she almost fell but the man was by her side in seconds holding her up, and gently carrying her.
"No, yours."
"Hey, hey put me down." She ordered but the man paid no heed to her.
"Bros, if you no drop me, I go break your head?" She switched to pidgin, a less formal way of speaking most people say, if they don't know English or are excited.
"I'm going to break your legs first." He replied with an amused face.
Chiamanda clearly sensed the danger, and desire in his voice and kept quiet. Her mind told her to jump from his arms and run, but her body had found a comfortable position and refused to move until he gently placed her on the bed.
His hand moved to her face and caressed it gently, his thumb brushing her cheek as though she was something too delicate to break. His voice dropped to a whisper, warm and heavy with emotion.
"You don't know how long I've waited for this."
He climbed onto the bed but didn't pin her down or rush her. Instead, he sat close, wrapping her in a hug that felt both terrifying and strangely safe. Chiamanda froze, her body stiff, her mind screaming danger. Every instinct told her to run, yet her legs would not move. It was as if the strength had melted away, leaving her heart to beat louder and louder in her chest.
Slowly, carefully, his hands slid down her arms until he held her hands in his. His grip was firm but gentle, as though he was anchoring her in the middle of a storm. Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned her face away.
For a moment, silence. Only the sound of her shaky breathing filled the room. He tilted her chin up with one finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. Those eyes—dark, intense, almost glowing—held hers, and she thought she could see something flicker there through her dazed eyes. Not just danger, but worry. Care. Longing.
"Are you scared?" His voice was barely audible, softer than the night air.
Chiamanda swallowed and, without meaning to, nodded.
At once, his arms came around her again, pulling her close, this time not like a predator with his prey but like someone afraid of losing her. "Don't worry," he murmured against her hair. "I won't hurt you. Not ever. You've been hurt enough." His last words carried an edge, a flash of anger, as if some unseen enemy haunted his thoughts.
Her chest tightened. She wanted to push him away, to scream at him, to demand answers. But instead, she found herself leaning into the warmth of his embrace.
~~~~~~~~~
Waking up, Chiamanda didn't see anybody, and was confused. A strange sense of disappointment rising up in her heart.
"Was it a dream?" She asked herself but her body told her yes, and the room told her no. Walking outside, she met her sister Cassandra coming out of her room.
"Cassie, good morning." Chiamanda called out and her sister turned to meet her.
"Morning." She replied in a drowsy voice.
"Did any dark-skinned man, he's very handsome and tall come here yesterday?"
Cassandra froze, which Chiamanda noticed but she answered no and hastily walked downstairs, had breakfast and went out.
Chiamanda spent the two days in a haze and was not happy to go back to school, not knowing the suprise that awaits her.
~~~~~~~~~
Child eyes lazily scanned the class for a new face but none and she sat down, bored.
Then the principal, a short caramel coloured woman with sunburn walked into the class, and the class stood and greeted her.
"Good morning class, a surprise to see me this morning, right? Well, I'm here to introduce the new mathematics teacher, Mr Ceaser White. A transferee from country Y."
Chiamanda stood dumbfounded as the same man she saw in her dreams stand before her in black shirt and matching trousers. The sleeves of the shirt had been folded to the elbows and he wore glasses. The type that girls find sexy. He gave an enchanting smile that made a the girls gaga, but Chiamanda even more astonished.
"Teacher?" She unconsciously said