Claws Of Agony

Part-4 (No Road Home)

Dakore’s breath came in ragged gasps as she staggered onto the highway, the cold night air pressing against her sweat-drenched skin. Her bare feet, blistered and bloodied from running through the thick undergrowth, barely held her upright. Every muscle in her body screamed in exhaustion, but she could not stop. She would not stop. If they caught her, she would never be seen again.

“Please… get up,” she whispered to herself. “Run!”

With sheer will, her legs obeyed, and she stumbled forward. Just as she picked up speed, a rough hand latched onto the back of her neck, yanking her backward. A breath heavy with the scent of cola and tobacco fanned against her ear.

“Where you think you dey go?” the voice sneered.

Panic surged through her veins as she fought against his iron grip, twisting and thrashing. “I catch am!” he shouted to the others. His thick arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Dakore reacted instantly, throwing her elbow back with every ounce of strength she had left. She struck him squarely in the eye. He grunted in pain, his grip loosening just enough for her to break free.

She bolted.

The man cursed, grabbing blindly at her. His fingers caught the edge of her headwrap. He yanked hard, pulling her abaya off her head, but Dakore used the momentum to slip out of his grasp, sprinting deeper into the darkness.

This time, she did not look back.

The pounding of her feet against the ground matched the frantic beat of her heart. She had no idea where she was going. She only knew she had to keep running. She took sharp turns at random, weaving through the landscape in a desperate attempt to shake them off. Her lungs burned. Her vision blurred. Her body begged for rest, but she ignored it all.

Then, suddenly, she stumbled onto smooth tar. A road. An expressway.

Dakore swayed on her feet, her body at its breaking point. She turned back towards the dark forest she had escaped from. The angry voices had faded into the distance. She had outrun them—for now.

She took a few wobbly steps forward, her feet dragging. The silence of the night surrounded her, thick and suffocating. The cold air bit at her exposed skin, and for the first time since escaping, she realized how truly alone she was.

Tears burned her eyes. “When will this night end?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She collapsed by the roadside, curling into herself, the rough tar pressing against her aching body. She wept, shaking with silent sobs.

Then—lights.

Her head snapped up. A car was approaching, its headlights cutting through the darkness like a beacon of hope.

Dakore leaped to her feet and stumbled onto the road, flailing her arms. “Help me! Please!”

The car screeched to a halt, mere inches from hitting her. The driver rolled down his window, his face twisted in anger.

“Chineke! Are you mad? You people have come again. Must you always beg for money?”

Dakore shook her head frantically. “No, please! You don’t understand! There are men chasing me. If they find me… they’ll kill me!”

The man scoffed. “So, after killing enough of my people, you finally turned on yourselves? Good luck to you.”

“Please…” Dakore’s voice broke as she reached into the car, grabbing at his sleeve. “Don’t leave me here to die.”

The man sneered, yanking his arm away. “Don’t touch me with your filthy hands.” He shifted the gear and revved the engine. “I should have just hit you with my car.”

The vehicle sped off, leaving her standing in the middle of the highway, alone once more.

Dakore took a shaky breath. She couldn’t afford to break down now. She had to keep moving. She staggered forward, every step agony, but she forced herself onward. She hadn’t walked far when another pair of headlights appeared in the distance. Desperation surged through her veins as she planted herself on the roadside and waved her arms frantically.

The car slowed. She ran to the driver’s side, pressing her palms against the window. “Please! I need help!”

The windows remained up, and for a moment, she feared they would drive away. But then, the glass slid down, revealing a family inside—a man and a woman in the front, and three young children in the backseat.

“Please, he—” Dakore began, but the driver cut her off.

“Sorry, we don’t have any money.” His tone was flat, dismissive.

His wife, seated beside him, barely looked up from her phone. “Poju, why are we stopping?”

“There’s a girl at the window.”

She glanced at Dakore, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “Ugh. Just tell her you don’t speak Hausa.”

“No, please! I speak English,” Dakore said quickly, her voice cracking.

The woman leaned over, exaggerating her words in a condescending tone. “Ba Hausa! No Hausa! No speak Hausa!”

The driver groaned. “Omo, she said she speaks English.”

The woman sighed and went back to scrolling through her phone. “Then tell her we don’t have any money.”

Dakore’s heart sank. “I don’t want money… I just need help.”

The driver hesitated, then shook his head. “We can’t help you.”

The window rolled up. The car pulled away, leaving her stranded once more.

A sob tore from her throat. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground.

She had escaped the prison of her father’s house, fought against the hands that sought to drag her back, risked everything to reach this road… and still, no one would help her.

She was unwanted. Unseen. Disposable.

A rustling in the distance sent a fresh jolt of fear through her. She turned toward the forest. Shadows moved. Voices murmured.

They were coming.

Dakore forced herself to stand. Her body protested, but she ignored it. She had to keep moving. She had to survive. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew one thing for certain:

She had no road home.