Donovan

4

Boma sat across from Hilda in the bustling cafeteria the next day. The clatter of trays and the murmur of conversations filled the air, but Boma barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere, lost in the heavy thoughts that had plagued her since the night before.

Hilda ate her lunch with a casual grace, her fork moving rhythmically between her plate and her mouth. Boma, on the other hand, merely picked at her food, her appetite nowhere to be found. Every now and then, her gaze would drift to the ring on her finger, its cold metal pressing into her skin like a relentless reminder.

The ring glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights, a stark symbol of Donovan's control. Boma’s heart clenched with every glance. She could almost hear his voice, stern and unyielding, echoing in her mind. She loathed the ring and everything it represented, but the fear of his warning paralyzed her. Removing it seemed impossible, the threat he had issued looming over her like a dark cloud.

"Try and stop worrying," Hilda advised. "Eat your food."

"I just can't," Boma sighed, pushing her plate away.

"I warned you not to go there," Hilda continued, her voice a mix of frustration and concern. "Now you've ended up getting noticed by a fraternity guy. And the worst of it is that you got a Point One? Do you know how serious this is?"

"Would you stop giving me the 'I told you so' lecture? If you want me to apologize a thousand times, I will."

"Look, I'm sorry," Hilda softened. "I just want you to be fine."

"Scolding me and telling me not to worry at the same time, without offering a solution, is not so good for me," Boma muttered.

"I'm not talking this way because there is no solution," Hilda said, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Boma's eyes lit up with hope at her friend's words. "Do you have a solution?"

"Relax," Hilda said, leaning in closer. "As a second-year student, I know some things. My course mate is a cultist. I consulted him, and the solution is simple."

Boma's heart pounded as she listened earnestly. "Well?" she prompted.

"He said we need to pay homage. Sometimes, point ones pick a girl. If she doesn't want the relationship, she can pay homage to the point one and he would let her go."

"How do I pay homage to him?"

"They don't like being denied, so in matters like this, if you already have a boyfriend, he would be the one to pay homage. But since you're single, you will have to do it yourself."

"How is the homage paid?"

"You will give him an offering. It has to be some gift, like a bottle of wine or maybe a wristwatch, but it has to be of some value. Not too cheap."

"But you know I don't have money. My parents are struggling after a bad investment."

"I know. We are in the same boat, but I will support you. After this, we'll get wine and a wristwatch so we can send it through a presenter."

"A presenter?"

"It has to be presented by someone from another fraternity. They consider outsiders doing this an insult. It will spark trouble."

"Gosh, this is crazy."

"I know, but it will pass, don't worry."

"Thank you so much. But is this a guarantee that he will let me go?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Now I can eat."

"Good," Hilda encouraged.

After their meal, Boma and Hilda left campus and ventured into the town. They scoured shops until they found the perfect bottle of wine and a wristwatch that, despite costing them half of their allowances, seemed adequate for the homage they needed to pay.

Back in their room, they meticulously packaged the items into an elegant bag, ensuring everything was presentable.

As they stood there, the weight of the situation settled in. Hilda hugged Boma comfortingly.

"Don't worry, everything will be alright," she reassured her friend. “And by the way, I am dating my course mate.”

Boma’s eyes widened. “A cultist?”

She smiled and shrugged. “Harold is a cool guy.”

“Well, who am I to judge?”

Later that day, Hilda's boyfriend, Harold, arrived to collect the bag. Hilda introduced him, and Boma greeted him warmly, knowing he was there to help.

The three of them climbed into Harold's car. He had a friendly face but seemed somewhat withdrawn as he navigated out of the campus and into the Island's streets. The tension in the car was obvious, each occupant lost in their thoughts about the impending ritual and its implications.

"Did she tell you that this is not a guarantee?" Harold asked Boma, his tone serious as he glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

His question renewed her anxiety, and Boma stared back at him, perplexed and unsure how to respond.

"Harold, you can't kill her hope like that," Hilda gently chided him from the passenger seat.

"It's better she knows the truth," Harold pointed out, his voice tinged with sympathy.

Boma bowed her head, burying her face in her hands. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on her, and she struggled to contain her rising fear.

"I'm sorry," Hilda apologized, reaching out to touch Boma's shoulder. "I just didn't want you to worry," she explained softly.

"It's okay," Boma managed to reply, her voice muffled against her palms. "It's better to try than give up."

"That's the spirit," Harold encouraged, his eyes reflecting a mix of compassion and resignation as he focused on driving.

The atmosphere in the car turned somber and silent after that, as Harold navigated through the streets. Minutes later, they arrived at an upscale estate with imposing security at the gate, a stark contrast to the campus they had left behind.

"This is where most of the rich students live," Harold remarked quietly as they were let in by the security.

They parked in the general parking lot, and Harold instructed them to wait in the car while he approached one of the apartments. Boma's eyes scanned the surroundings nervously, recognizing a few faces from the night Donovan had introduced her to his world—a world she now desperately wanted to escape.

She watched as Harold conversed with a group of guys outside the apartment, one of them smoking casually. After a tense wait, Harold was finally allowed inside.

Boma's heart raced as she waited anxiously, Hilda's gentle reassurances doing little to calm her nerves. After what felt like an eternity, Harold returned. The bag was not in his hand, but Boma clung to the hope that the offering had been accepted.

Harold got back into the car, his expression solemn as Boma and Hilda looked at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry," he began, his voice heavy with regret as he turned to Boma. "He received the homage, but practically told me not to bother with this issue anymore."

Boma's face fell, the reality of her situation crashing down on her. "What do I do now?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"I don't know," Harold admitted quietly. "On the bright side, as his girl, you will be protected. No one will touch or harass you."

"I just want to be free," Boma murmured, her voice filled with anguish.

"This school is rough," Harold sighed, his gaze distant as he stared out the windshield. "Every girl needs protection. Some even seek out cultists for safety. It's survival."

Boma struggled to comprehend it all. "Why is the school like this?" she asked, her voice tinged with frustration and despair.

"That's government schools for you," Harold explained bitterly. "If you want a school without threats, you have to go private. But you probably know they're more expensive."

"So why did you become a cultist?" Boma pressed, needing to understand.

"To belong somewhere," Harold admitted quietly. "To have some form of protection."

"Is everyone in this school a cultist?" Boma asked, fearing the answer.

He chuckled dryly. "No, not everyone. And not everyone gets in trouble with cultists. It's just unfortunate you're in this situation."

"If I were to take my chances, what's my final solution?" Boma asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Leaving school. Maybe relocating," Harold suggested reluctantly.

"I don't have the means for that," Boma sighed, feeling trapped. "Maybe I need to tell my parents or school authorities about this."

"I don't recommend telling your parents or school authorities," Harold cautioned. "It could make things worse. This goes beyond campus. Donovan's family has influence everywhere. His fraternity, they control more than you think. Even some lecturers and staff are involved. It's... complicated."

Overwhelmed, Boma buried her face in her hands once more. Her eyes filled and tears streamed down her cheeks. Harold and Hilda exchanged worried glances, unsure how to comfort her in this dire situation. But they tried their best, encouraging her to calm down and see what the coming days brought.

Later, around 10:00 PM, in their dimly lit room, Hilda grabbed her books and headed for the door.

"I'm going for all-night reading," she informed Boma, who lay awake on her bunk, staring at the ceiling.

The school had a lecture hall that was open every night. Students would go there and read till dawn, some falling asleep and waking up to continue studying. It was a popular spot, offering a sense of community and motivation.

"Have a good study," Boma said, her voice soft and distant.

"Thanks. But are you sure you won't join me?" Hilda asked, concern lacing her words.

"No. I just want to rest," Boma replied, not shifting her gaze from the ceiling.

"Okay. Don't think too much."

"I'll try. Take care," Boma murmured.

Hilda hesitated for a moment, then left the room, the door clicking softly behind her. Boma sighed deeply, trying to will herself into a state of calm, but the turmoil inside her mind refused to settle.

As soon as Hilda left the room, Boma's phone rang, causing her heart to skip a beat. She checked the screen and saw Donovan's name flashing. It was his first call to her, and the mere sight of his name filled her with dread. His presence, even through a phone, was enough to trigger her fear.

She ignored the call at first, staring at the screen as if it might bite. But she knew she couldn't keep ignoring him. The phone rang again, insistent and demanding. Reluctantly, she accepted the call.

"Hello." Her voice wavered, betraying her fear.

"Where were you?" His voice came through the phone, dark and sensual, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I was—I am in the hostel, in my room."

"Okay. So why didn't you pick the first call?"

"I—the phone was on silent. I didn't see it early."

"Why did you keep it on silent mode?"

"I usually do that when I am about to go to bed."

"Don't do that again. I want to hear from you before you go to bed, okay?"

"Okay."

"And always make sure your phone is close to you. Missed calls get me angry, alright?"

"Okay."

"Good. So, I got your homage today. I'm sure you were given the result."

"Yes."

"Great. It's a no. Don't send another homage. Don't even think about involving anyone in this anymore. You don't want to see my bad side. I'm not going to hurt you. I know you're scared, but I promise, you will come to like me. I will protect you. I will care for you, financially and otherwise. All I need from you is your submission. Okay?"

Boma stayed silent.

"Did I just say something?" His voice remained low, but forceful.

"Okay," she responded.

"I want to see you tomorrow after your class, so we can get better acquainted and you can learn what I expect from you."

"Okay."

"Meanwhile, how come someone else's boyfriend came with your homage?"

"He—um—" Boma stammered, struggling to find the words.

"I thought you said you had a boyfriend?" he pressed.

"Well, I—"

"Think twice before lying to me again, Sweetheart. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"So, do you have a boyfriend or not? I want that clarification."

"I don't—I don't have a boyfriend."

"So why did you lie to me?"

"Because I was afraid.” She admitted in a half-whisper. “I am afraid of you."

"Remember that the next time you're about to lie to me. I am not a monster. But I can be, depending on your attitude. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"I will see you tomorrow. From your course timetable here, I see you will be free by two. I will be free as well, so you're going to meet me at the Zoom cafeteria for lunch. Don't be late. Alright?"

"Okay."

"Dress well. You represent me now."

"I don't have clothes that suit your taste," she managed to bite out.

"Fine. We'll go shopping then. Sleep tight, baby."

He ended the call without waiting for her response.

Alone in the room, Boma curled herself into the sheets and cried softly into her pillow. She was glad that Hilda was not there. It gave her the space to mourn her situation fully, as she dreaded the coming day.