Claws Of Agony

Part-5 (The Night That Broke Her)

Please get up! She pleaded with herself. Get up now... Run!

Finally, her legs responded. With shaky resolve, she found solid footing and stumbled upright. The sharp sting of pain shot through her limbs, but she pushed forward, forcing herself to move. She had to get away.

But just as she picked up speed, a firm grip clamped around the back of her neck.

"Where you think you dey go?" a rough voice growled in her ear, his breath reeking of cola and sweat. The grip tightened, fingers pressing hard against her skin.

"I catch am!" he shouted to the others, wherever they were. His arm wrapped around her stomach, lifting her slightly off the ground. Panic surged through her veins. She kicked against him wildly, her heart pounding in her ears. With all her strength, she swung her elbow backward. It connected sharply with his left eye.

He let out a grunt of pain, his grip loosening just enough for her to break free. She didn't waste the opportunity—she bolted.

But he wasn’t done. His hand shot out blindly, grasping at her clothes. He caught a handful of her headscarf and yanked, pulling it off in one swift motion. The force nearly dragged her back, but the looseness of the fabric worked in her favor. The abaya slipped from her shoulders, freeing her once more. She didn't look back. She couldn't.

Dakore ran.

Faster.

Farther.

She had no idea where she was going, but she let her legs carry her, turning erratically in hopes of losing them. The world around her blurred, the shadows of the night playing tricks on her vision. Her lungs burned, her breath ragged, but she kept moving. The only thing louder than her frantic footsteps was the sound of her heartbeat, slamming against her chest.

Finally, when she could no longer run, her feet stumbled onto tarred road. The smooth surface beneath her was unfamiliar, jarring. She stopped, gasping for air, her hands trembling as she scanned the area. The woods she'd escaped from were behind her, dark and silent now. Had she lost them?

She took cautious steps forward. The night stretched on, vast and merciless. She had no idea how far she had run. Her home—if she could still call it that—was nowhere in sight. Her body ached, her muscles screaming in protest. Her legs finally gave in, and she collapsed at the side of the road.

Cold air wrapped around her like a cruel embrace. She curled into herself, hugging her knees as silent tears streamed down her face. How long would this night last? Would it ever end?

A sudden flash of light swept over her.

Dakore's breath hitched. Her body tensed as the distant hum of an approaching vehicle filled the air. Hope flared within her, fragile and fleeting. This is your chance. Stop that car!

Summoning the last remnants of her strength, she pushed herself up and stumbled onto the road. She waved her arms frantically, stepping directly into the vehicle’s path. The car screeched to a stop, its tires skidding against the asphalt.

"Help me!" she cried, her voice hoarse and desperate. She hurried to the driver’s side, pressing her hands against the window. "Please, sir! There are men after me. I beg you. Help me!"

The driver scowled at her through the glass. "Chineke! Must you people always beg for money? Ehn?!" His voice was filled with disgust. "Maybe if you stopped sitting around doing nothing except breeding cows and children, you wouldn’t have to beg all the time."

Dakore shook her head furiously. "No, please! You don’t understand. If you don’t help me, they will kill me!"

The man chuckled darkly. "So, after killing enough of my people, you people have finally turned on yourselves? Well, good luck to you."

"Please…" Dakore reached for his sleeve. "Don’t leave me here. I don’t want to die."

He jerked his arm away as though she were diseased. "Don’t put your filthy hands on me." Then, with a sneer, he added, "I should have just hit you with my car."

The engine roared as he sped away, leaving her standing in the middle of the highway, alone once again.

A fresh wave of despair crashed over her, but she had no time to dwell on it. Another car was approaching. This time, someone will help me. They have to.

With renewed determination, she ran into the road once more, waving her arms frantically. The vehicle slowed, stopping just inches from her trembling body.

The tinted window rolled down, revealing a family—two adults and three children. Hope flickered in her chest.

"Please, help me—"

"Sorry, we don’t have any money," the driver interrupted dismissively. His wife, seated in the passenger seat, barely looked up from her phone.

"Poju, why are we stopping?" she asked impatiently.

She glanced at Dakore—disheveled, desperate, a northern girl with tattered clothing. Her lips curled in distaste.

"Ugh. Just tell her you don’t speak Hausa."

"No, no! I speak English—" Dakore tried to explain, but the woman ignored her.

"Ba Hausa!" she repeated loudly, shaking her head dramatically. "No Hausa!"

The driver sighed. "She said she speaks English, sit down."

"Oh. Well, tell her we don’t have money."

Dakore’s breath hitched. "I don’t need money. I just need a ride. Please, take me to a nearby town."

"We have children with us. We can’t take in strangers," the man said firmly.

"I can sit in the boot. I won’t disturb you, please." Her voice broke.

"You’re disturbing us now," the woman muttered pointedly.

The driver’s expression hardened. "We don’t know you. Whatever you did, I don’t want my family involved."

The window rolled up, cutting off any last plea she had left in her.

Before the car drove off, something was tossed out the window. A crumpled one-thousand-naira note landed at her feet.

Dakore stared at it, her vision blurring. Her hands trembled as she picked it up. The cold reality settled into her bones.

A familiar voice shattered the silence. "Do you see now?"

She turned slowly. Uthman.

Her brother stood at the edge of the forest, watching her. He had seen everything. His voice was heavy, filled with something that almost sounded like regret. "This is how the world works."

He stepped closer. "What was your plan? Where would you have gone? You have no papers, no skills. Do you think you’d be anything but a beggar—or worse?" His voice softened. "No matter how smart you are, they will always see us the same."

Dakore bit her lip, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Umar Kaminu is a wealthy man. Not every girl is that lucky." Uthman kneeled beside her. "Go with him. It’s the only way out."

Dakore looked down at the crumpled money in her hand. The last remnants of hope within her faded.

You tried.

She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to stand. Her feet felt heavy, as though shackled. Her spirit had already surrendered.

Uthman turned. "Dakore, are you coming?"

She hesitated.

Then, slowly, she followed him down the path.

She didn’t know what her life would look like tomorrow.

But tonight, she was tired.