THE ROAD TO ME

chapter 11

Settling into Clemson’s modest apartment felt surreal. The space was simple, yet it provided something I desperately needed—safety and peace. Clemson treated me with kindness and respect, giving me the privacy and support I hadn’t experienced in months.

The first few days were awkward, but he did everything to make me feel at home. He cooked meals, encouraged me to focus on my studies, and reminded me that I wasn’t alone. “Happy,” he said one evening, “you’re stronger than you think. Don’t let what happened to you define your future.”

Despite his reassurances, I struggled to let go of the trauma. The incident with Benjamin had left me scarred, and the betrayal from Benedict still stung. I had trusted them, and they had used my vulnerability against me. But Clemson’s unwavering support reminded me that not everyone was out to hurt me.

A week later, Clemson surprised me with a secondhand smartphone. “It’s not the latest model,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “but I thought it might help you reconnect with the world.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I took the phone. “Thank you, Clemson. You’ve done so much for me already. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“You don’t need to,” he replied. “Just promise me you’ll keep pushing for your dreams.”

With the phone, I reached out to Nancy, who had been worried about me. When I told her what happened and where I was staying currently, she was shocked but relieved and also cautious. “Be careful, Happy,” she warned. “The world is full of surprises—good and bad.”

Nancy’s words stuck with me. Life had taught me that trust was fragile, and I needed to be careful about whom I let into my life.

Returning to the academy felt like reclaiming a piece of myself. I threw myself into my classes, determined to excel despite everything. My instructors noticed the change, often commenting on my dedication and drive.

Clemson’s support didn’t go unnoticed. Some of his colleagues teased him about helping a girl he barely knew. One even jokes, “Are you sure she’s not using you?”

Clemson brushed off the comments, but I could see the strain it caused. One evening, I brought it up. “If people are talking, maybe I should leave. I don’t want to cause you problems.”

He shook his head firmly. “Happy, I don’t care what anyone says. I know who you are, and I believe in you. Let them talk.”

His words reassured me, but they also made me realize the burden he was carrying for my sake. I resolved to find a way to stand on my own sooner rather than later.

One day, Nancy came with an audition notice and we planned to attend but we have to take permission from our Director first.

He approved it after days of investigating to know if it was something serious or not. He said it was legit.

Of course a lot of auditions are not legit. They will just use that opportunity to get money from the innocent people who wish to become actors without trying to go through an academy or a good movie group.

Excitement and nerves coursed through me. This was the opportunity I had been dreaming of, but self-doubt crept in. What if I wasn’t good enough?

I shared the news with Clemson that evening. His face lit up with pride. “Happy, this is your chance. Don’t let fear hold you back.”

Nancy also encouraged me, promising to help me prepare for the audition.

The day of the audition arrived, and my nerves were at an all-time high. Clemson accompanied me to the venue, giving me a pep talk along the way. “Remember, you’ve overcome so much to get here. You’ve got this.”

Stepping onto the stage, I poured my heart into the performance, channeling all the pain, hope, and resilience I had experienced. When I finished, the room erupted in applause.

The casting director approached me with a smile. “You’re exactly what we’re looking for. Welcome to the team.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, I thanked her and rushed out to share the news with Clemson. He hugged me tightly, his voice filled with pride. “I told you, Happy. This is just the beginning.”

As we walked home that evening, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. The road to me was still long and uncertain, but for the first time, I felt like I was on the right path.

It was getting closer to the day we were scheduled to move to the location for the movie I had won a lead role in during the audition. I was overjoyed and began packing my bags, knowing it was going to be a location far from Uyo. Clemson was genuinely happy for me and even gave me some money to sustain myself during my stay at the movie camp.

Early that morning, Nancy arrived at Clemson’s place, and together, we made our way to the designated meeting point where all the up-and-coming actors were gathering to board the bus to the location. When the bus finally arrived, we prayed and set off.

Upon arrival, we were told to rest as shooting would begin the next day. By 7 a.m. the following morning, the cameras started rolling. We all waited our turn, excited for our scenes. But then, I made a startling discovery: the movie industry was far more corrupt than I had ever imagined.

The lead role I had been cast for was taken by someone else. Shocked and confused, I approached the director to ask if there had been a mistake.

“Yes, you were cast for the role,” he admitted without remorse. “But changes happen. The new girl is the producer’s cousin, and she has more social media followers. The producer decided she should take the lead role. Sorry, but you’ll play a different role.”

I was speechless. Roles were supposed to be given based on merit, but this felt like a betrayal. When I found Nancy, she revealed her role had also been swapped. After staying on location for seven days, both of us ended up playing very minor roles—just four scenes. I felt humiliated and used.

When I returned home, I told Clemson everything. He was visibly upset and did his best to comfort me, but the disappointment lingered.

Life went on, and I attended more auditions, determined to prove myself. Sometimes I got roles; other times, I was told my body didn’t fit the character they were casting for.

Weeks turned into months, and soon it was time for our graduation at the Creative Media Arts Academy. As part of the celebration, the school organized a movie project for all graduating students. I was cast as a nurse—a major character in the film.

On the final day of filming, after we wrapped the movie, the CEO of the academy gathered us together for the certificate presentation. He shared some hard truths about the industry that stuck with me.

“To make it in this industry,” he said, “you need money, a good body, and fitness. Talent alone won’t take you far. Roles are often sold, and producers prioritize appearance over delivery. A good director can teach anyone to act, but money and the special grace of God will set you apart. Without God’s grace, nothing else matters.”

His words resonated with me. Could my role in the last movie have been swapped because someone paid for it? The thought made my stomach churn.

“God,” I whispered, “I don’t have money, but I need your grace.”

Nancy and I continued attending auditions, both invited and uninvited. However, we noticed a pattern: in-house actors from production companies got the best roles, while outsiders like us were left with scraps. We decided to join a production house to secure better roles.

We met with one producer, but the registration fee was ₦20,000. After we left, he called me late at night, offering to let me join his team if I agreed to be his woman. “I like your look,” he said casually.

I was stunned. “So this is how things work here?” I thought. I declined his offer and told Clemson about it. He was equally shocked. “No wonder people say actors are into prostitution,” he said bitterly. “Some people probably accept these offers without hesitation.”

The next day, I told Nancy about the incident, and to my surprise, she said the producer had made the same offer to her. He promised to take her to every location he worked on, introduce her to big directors, and ensure she succeeded—but only if she agreed to be his woman. We were both speechless.

We decided to try another producer, whose registration fee was ₦15,000. However, this producer also called me later that night, making the same indecent proposal. Frustrated, I confronted him, asking why they all behaved the same way. He denied making the offer to Nancy and insisted it was only me he was interested in. “Nancy isn’t even my type,” he said dismissively.

I called Nancy over and showed him the chat history between them. Cornered, he admitted it. “Well, I didn’t do anything wrong. If Nancy had accepted me first, I’d have told you to forget about the love thing and just pay the fee. If anyone can’t afford the form, they should consider my offer.”

Appalled, I decided to pay the fee. I had ₦10,000 saved from the money Clemson had been giving me, and I handed it over. Nancy paid the full ₦15,000. We filled out the forms and became members of his team, attending rehearsals and learning more about the industry.

Through all of this, Clemson remained my rock. He supported me financially, ensured I had transportation to auditions, and never let me feel alone. But one day, everything changed.