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Julie stood in front of her mother's—
or more accurately, her sister's—room.
Her dark hazel eyes were focused.
Determined.
It was 7:00 a.m., Tuesday morning.
"It's now or never," she muttered as she stepped inside.
The room was dim, faintly lit by thin rays of morning light slipping through the gaps in the curtains.
"What is it, Julie?" her mother asked.
A piece of African cloth was wrapped around her body from chest to knee, tiny droplets of water still clinging to her skin. A sponge hung loosely around her neck.
She had just stepped out of the bath.
"Have you done your chores? You don carry those children go school abii?" she asked casually.
"Yes ma, I've done everything," Julie replied instantly, her hands folded neatly behind her back.
"Very good. Oya, come dey go school. Ehe! Abeg when you come back make sure you—"
"Wash the clothes—I know, ma," Julie finished for her.
Her mother glanced at her. A flicker of surprise crossed her face—then vanished just as quickly. She didn't dwell on it.
"I want to tell you something, mom," Julie said.
Her voice was soft—
but firm.
"Wetin be that?" her mother asked, turning away to grab a towel.
"Everything I tell you here will greatly benefit you financially," Julie continued, "but only on one condition."
"Mhmm," her mother hummed.
She wasn't really listening. To her, it was just a child talking—banter without weight.
"Five years from now, you will take me back to my parents in the village," Julie said, pausing deliberately.
"That is my condition."
The room fell silent.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Like a cold decree had been spoken aloud.
(…Wetin she talk? Go back to her parents? How she take know say her mama and papa dey village?)
Her mother's brows furrowed, suspicion creeping in.
"Okay," she said slowly. "I don gree. So tell me."
She indulged her—curious now. Uneasy.
"Your husband always comes back drunk every night after work," Julie said.
Her voice was steady.
Bold.
Her mother gasped.
A child—speaking like an adult. Like someone who knew.
Still, she said nothing.
She listened.
"Every time he comes back, there's always money in his pocket," Julie continued.
"You must collect it. Every time. Use the accumulated capital to open a provision shop."
Julie lifted her gaze, meeting her mother's eyes.
"If you don't," she said calmly, "he'll keep drinking. And in two years, his business will be ruined. Your family will suffer."
"W–Wait… how you take know say—"
Julie didn't wait for her to finish.
She turned and left the room immediately.
Grabbing her school bag, she ran out of the house and headed for school.
(…I've finally taken the first step.)
(First, I need to find a way back to the East. Then I can finally meet him…)
(Kevin—just a little longer. I'll see you soon.)
Her thoughts spiralled as her chest thumped wildly, heart racing with every step.
KEVIN'S SCHOOL — 7:55 a.m.
The classroom buzzed faintly with idle chatter.
Kevin sat on a classmate's desk.
Lessons were five minutes away. The teacher hadn't arrived yet.
A ten-year-old girl sat before him while he perched casually on her desk, elbows resting on his knees, hands supporting his head.
Prideful.
Like a king on his throne.
The girl didn't find his behaviour strange.
No—she only stole glances at him, head lowered, cheeks flushed pink.
(…I can't believe he's looking at me. Did he finally notice me? Oh my God, he's so handsome…)
"What's your name again?" Kevin asked.
His small but sharp eyes were icy.
His voice—low, firm.
"…Ogadimma," she replied nervously. "Y-you can call me… Dimma, if you like."
A clear African name, Kevin thought.
Translated as—It will be fine.
Meaningful. Thoughtful. Beautiful.
For someone so vile.
"Well, Dimma," he said, drawing her attention, brows furrowing.
"You're Nazy's—no, Chinaza's—friend, right?"
Her brows knit together briefly. "Y-yes… I'm Naza's friend."
Nazy's real name was Chinaza—Chinazaekpere.
God answers prayers.
Her friends called her Naza.
Kevin alone called her Nazy.
"I-Is something wrong?" Dimma asked, curiosity edging past her fear.
"Oh, I don't know," Kevin replied coolly.
"Is there?"
His stare hardened—probing.
"Tell me," he continued, "what do you call someone who tries to hurt their own friend?"
"…A bad friend," she answered without thinking.
"My thoughts exactly."
His tone was calm—
yet oppressive.
"So tell me," he said softly,
"why would you splash water on the stairs just to hurt your friend?"
Dimma gasped.
"I—I don't know what you're—"
Kevin cut her short with a knowing glare.
A death stare.
In that moment, she understood.
There was no escape.
"I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't—"
"Normally," Kevin interrupted, his voice dropping,
"I'm a gentleman."
The atmosphere shifted.
Thick.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Like something violent had soaked into the air.
"I would never lift a hand against a female," he continued.
"But…"
He paused.
Let the words sink into her like fangs.
"For you," he said quietly,
"I'll make an exception."
A violent shiver tore down her spine.
Age. Status. Excuses—none of it mattered.
"If you dare," he continued, eyes blazing,
"try—or even think—of doing anything that directly or indirectly puts Nazy in danger ever again…"
A dense, terrifying pressure wrapped around him.
"I will make your remaining years in this academy
extremely uncomfortable—
and excruciatingly painful."
The classroom fell silent.
Deafening.
Kevin turned and walked toward the exit.
Just before he passed through the door, Nazy stood there.
She said nothing.
Neither did he.
He simply walked past her.
Nazy watched quietly. Curiously.
Behind her, Dimma sat frozen—trembling.
She had admired Kevin before.
Liked him, even.
But now—
For the first time—
She felt something else.
Dread.
Terror.
A spine-chilling fear.
A WEEK LATER — THURSDAY, 6:50 a.m.
Julie's House
Julie had just returned from dropping the kids at school.
Her usual routine.
(…I know I gave mom that condition and all, but…) she sighed, stepping into the house.
(…Adults can't be trusted. Especially when a child asks them for something.)
(So I need a way to guarantee my return to the East—something she can't refuse.)
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
Results were finally coming.
"Time to get to sch—"
A hand shot out.
Rough.
Grabbing Julie's arm and yanking her into the room.
"M-Mom?!" she stuttered, confused.
"Julie, dear," her mother said—with a smile.
Julie froze.
Her mother had never called her that before.
Something was wrong.
"I did as you said for one week now," her mother continued, the smile stretching unnaturally wide.
"And make I tell you… the kind money wey dey my hand now eeh!"
That was when Julie felt it.
Not words.
Not tone.
Emotion.
Her mother's emotions—
raw. Unfiltered.
Greed.
It hit her like a stench—thick, oily, nauseating.
"So my dear," her mother stepped closer, eyes shining, "abeg tell me more."
She grabbed Julie's hand—tight. Rough.
"Imagine how much I go make if you just tell me more."
"Ah—mom, please let go. You're hurting me," Julie protested.
"Just tell me," she snapped impatiently. "Mommy go buy you fine fine clothes eeh."
She had already been spending the money.
Luxury. Vanity. Excess.
Not business.
"Tell me now," she yelled, squeezing harder,
"or I no go carry you go village again!"
Something snapped.
Julie lost focus.
Lost control.
The emotions she had carried for so long—
every feeling she had absorbed from others,
every sorrow, every fear, every rage—
they had never disappeared.
They had been stored.
Compressed.
Layered.
Inside her.
And now—
They came rushing back.
Pain.
Guilt.
Sorrow.
Loneliness.
Anger.
Rage.
All of it surged at once.
Julie's pupils dilated—bleaching white.
Blank. Empty.
Her mother didn't notice.
Not until—
"AAAHH!!"
Her mother screamed as she was hurled backward.
The emotions exploded outward—
a violent release.
Everything Julie had carried poured into her.
The woman slammed against the wall and collapsed to the floor.
Her mind flooded.
Chaos—unknown, overwhelming, tearing her apart from the inside.
"No… no come near me ooh!" she panted, clutching her head, twisting in agony.
Julie blinked.
Reality snapped back into place.
"Huh…?"
(Why do I feel so light… like something heavy is gone?)
"Mom! What happened to—"
"Don't touch me!" her mother screamed.
Julie froze.
"But—"
"LEAVE!!"
Pure terror.
Julie backed away and fled.
Her mother remained on the floor, breath ragged, body trembling uncontrollably.
"W-Witch…" she whispered.
Barely audible.
Of all the emotions she felt in that moment—
one stood above the rest.
Absolute fear.
—To Be Continued