CHAPTER SIX — Fear Has Its Own Language
1150 Words
The morning after we kissed, the sky was unusually bright — that harsh Lagos kind of brightness that made even silence feel too loud.
I woke up before Lani.
She was still curled up, one leg bent beneath her, her lips slightly parted. Peaceful.
Like the world hadn’t changed.
But it had.
I sat up and stared at the fan above our heads. It spun slowly, groaning with each turn — like it too was carrying a weight it couldn’t talk about.
My chest was tight.
Not from regret.
But from fear.
What we’d done… what we were becoming — it wasn’t something we could whisper away anymore.
It had a shape now.
A name, even if we didn’t speak it out loud.
And worse, it had a target on its back.
In this house.
In this town.
In this country.
In this life.
—
Lani stirred, her eyes blinking open slowly.
When she saw me sitting up, she smiled. A soft, sleepy smile.
But I couldn’t return it.
She sat up too, immediately sensing the shift.
“Zara?” she asked.
I looked away. “We have school.”
Her smile faded.
We dressed in silence.
No accidental touches. No exchanged glances. No nervous laughter.
Just silence.
Heavy. Loud. Choking.
The kind of silence you carry around like a secret in your chest.
—
The compound was unusually quiet when we stepped outside. Chinyere had gone to buy kerosene. Madam was nowhere to be found. The driver had left early with Daddy.
So we walked.
Our steps matching, but our hearts completely out of rhythm.
“I’m not sorry,” she said suddenly, just before we reached the end of the street.
I stopped walking.
“What?”
“I said I’m not sorry for last night.”
I stared at her.
She looked braver in that moment than I had ever seen her.
Even in her school uniform. Even with her tiny braids slipping out of place. Even with her eyes shining like she’d cried before I woke.
“I’m not sorry either,” I whispered.
She took a small step toward me.
Then another.
Then she stopped. Her voice low.
“But I’m scared. Scared that if this gets out… if Madam finds out… it’ll all fall apart.”
“It already is,” I replied. “Piece by piece.”
She reached for my hand. We didn’t hold it.
We just stood there — fingers brushing — like two people wanting the same thing but too afraid to grab it.
—
At school, things were worse.
We’d become a topic.
Again.
Someone — we didn’t know who — had taken a picture of us from behind, walking home the week before. Our arms had been touching. Heads tilted close. It could’ve meant anything.
But it meant exactly what they wanted it to.
Girls whispered as we passed.
Some stared too long.
Some laughed and turned away.
But one girl — Ruka — spat the words without shame.
“Lesbians.”
Just like that.
A knife in the open.
Lani froze.
My whole body stiffened.
The teacher hadn’t entered yet. Class was restless. Alive with tension.
I turned slowly.
“What did you say?”
Ruka smirked. “Did I lie?”
Lani grabbed my arm. “Zara, leave it.”
But I stepped forward anyway.
And for the first time in my life, I didn’t care about being the quiet girl. I didn’t care about the stares, the whispers, the danger.
“You should mind your mouth before it ruins your future,” I said, my voice shaking with anger. “Or maybe that’s what you enjoy — dragging other people down because you don’t have anything going for yourself.”
Gasps. Whispers. A few laughs.
Ruka scoffed. “Touch me, and I’ll report you.”
“I didn’t touch you,” I snapped. “But maybe you want me to.”
Even I was shocked by the words.
Lani pulled me away before it could get worse.
But the damage was done.
And the whole class watched us walk to the back seat, quiet but buzzing — like they’d just gotten confirmation of what they already believed.
—
By the time we got home, Madam was waiting.
Not in the sitting room.
In our room.
That had never happened before.
Lani froze at the door. I stood behind her, heart pounding.
Madam sat on the bed, arms folded, eyes dark.
“Sit down,” she said.
We sat on the floor. Quiet. Small.
She didn’t speak immediately.
Just stared at us — like we were strangers she didn’t recognize anymore.
Then she began.
“I received a phone call today. From your principal.”
Lani’s breath hitched.
“They said there’s a rumor going round. That you two — girls I’ve raised under the fear of God — are involved in something shameful.”
Her voice shook now.
I couldn’t tell if it was rage or pain.
“Is it true?” she asked.
Silence.
“Answer me!”
Still silence.
She stood, pacing the small room like a lioness preparing to strike.
“What did I not give you?” she demanded. “What comfort? What support? What discipline?”
“Mummy—” I started.
“Don’t mummy me, Zara! I knew it. From the way you looked at each other. From the whispering. The unnecessary closeness. I knew it.”
She turned to Lani.
“And you — you brought this spirit into my home!”
Lani looked like she’d stopped breathing.
I stood up.
“No one brought anything here, Madam.”
She blinked. “What did you say?”
I was shaking.
“I said it’s not a spirit. It’s feelings. Confusing ones, yes. But not evil. We didn’t plan it. It just happened.”
Her slap landed so fast I didn’t see it coming.
Hot. Sharp. Final.
“You will not stand here and talk nonsense in my house,” she hissed. “If your mother didn’t teach you boundaries, I will.”
Lani started crying.
But quietly.
That kind of tears that burn before they fall.
Madam pointed at the door.
“Get out,” she said.
Both of us stared at her.
“You heard me. OUT! I want both of you gone by nightfall. Go and stay with your grandma . Or better yet — go to wherever this madness will not disgrace me.”
We didn’t argue.
There was nothing left to say.
We packed our bags.
Not all our things.
Just enough to leave.
That night, we slept in the servant’s quarters beside the compound wall. No mattress. Just wrapper and prayer.
We didn’t touch.
We didn’t kiss.
We didn’t even cry anymore.
We just laid side by side — broken, lost, and holding on to the only thing we had left:
Each other.
- Writer
