PLEASE DON'T HIT ME

the kidnap

Christiana’s fingers tightened around the phone until her knuckles turned pale. For a few seconds, she couldn’t speak. The voice on the other end was deep, unhurried, almost too calm like the kind of person who didn’t need to shout to make a threat real.

“What… what do you want?” she finally managed, her voice trembling.

“Ah-ah, no rush. You go hear everything soon,” the man said. “But first, stop asking questions. I know wetin you and your mama don try do. That scarf wey you carry”

Her breath caught. “How did you?”

A low chuckle came through the line. “I see everything. I dey watch you. You go hear from me again.”

The call ended before she could say anything else.

She stood there, frozen, the phone still pressed to her ear. Mama Esther’s eyes searched her face. “Christy, talk to me. Wetin happen?”

Christiana shook her head slowly. “Mama Esther… they have kidnap Mama.”

.......

The next morning, she tried to act normal at school, but it was useless. Her friends noticed something was off the moment she stepped into the gate of independence Secondary.

“Christy, your eyes be like person wey no sleep at all,” Bola whispered during assembly.

“I’m fine,” Christiana lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

But the truth was, her head wasn’t in the school compound at all. While the principal was warning students about lateness, Christiana was replaying that phone call in her mind, word for word. The man knew about the scarf. That meant he knew she had been to the shop. Which meant… he might have been watching the whole time.

During English class, she barely heard a thing. The teacher was talking about comprehension passages, but Christiana’s mind was far away. She was picturing Mama tied up somewhere, maybe scared, maybe crying.

The sharp sound of a ruler hitting her desk snapped her back.

“Christiana!” Mr. Okoro barked. “Read the next paragraph.”

She stumbled through the words, her voice low, and the whole class stared. A few boys in the back giggled.

After class, Bola cornered her. “Oya talk true. Wetin happen? You no dey yourself since morning.”

Christiana hesitated. Bola was her closest friend in school, but this wasn’t the kind of problem you could just share. “It’s… family stuff,” she said finally.

Bola frowned. “Na your papa again?”

Christiana’s chest tightened. “Something like that.”

.....

When the closing bell rang, she didn’t rush home like usual. Instead, she took the long route, passing through the small alley near the market. She needed time to think before stepping into that compound again time to prepare for whatever was waiting.

But when she reached the junction, she saw him.

A man in a faded brown cap, leaning against a parked motorcycle, watching her. His eyes followed her every step.

Her pace quickened.

“Christiana,” he called, his voice low but firm.

She didn’t answer. She walked faster, her bag bouncing against her hip.

“You no wan see your mama again?” he said.

She stopped cold.

Slowly, she turned. The man was still leaning casually, but his gaze was sharp, unblinking.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He smiled faintly. “Na simple thing. You go follow me small. No wahala go happen… if you behave.”

Her legs felt heavy, but she forced herself to stand straight. “And if I don’t?”

The smile disappeared. “Then you go hear bad news before night fall.”