Barrister Ada

Chapter 2: Safe

Chapter 2: Safe

The first thing I felt was a deep, biting cold. It didn't just touch my skin; it seeped past my damp clothes and settled directly into my bones, making my teeth chatter uncontrollably.

I slowly peeled my eyes open, my vision blurry. The ceiling above me was made of neat corrugated iron, completely different from the sagging, cracked plaster of my family's house. The comforting smell of camphor and boiling ginger tea filled the air. Panic spiked instantly in my chest. This was not my room.

My body ached as if I had been beaten, every muscle tight and bruised. My head felt hollow, heavy, and dizzy all at once. I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot up my spine.

Then, the memories hit me like a physical blow. The shouting. The terrifying crash of breaking plates. My mother shielding me with her fragile body. The blinding rain. The suffocating darkness. Then... nothing.

I remembered running barefoot into the pitch-black street, the rough tar and sharp pebbles tearing at the soles of my feet. I had been so weak, driven only by adrenaline. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days, my stomach twisted into tight, painful knots. I remembered making it as far as the outskirts of Wuse Market. The bright streetlights and closed shop signs had blurred into a watery mess. My legs, trembling and exhausted, simply gave up. The world had tilted, spun, and then went completely black.

"Drink this, my child," a gentle voice suddenly broke through my panic.

I flinched, snapping my head to the side. A woman was sitting beside the narrow bed. She had a warm, round face, a faded wrapper tied securely around her waist, and eyes so soft they made my chest ache.

"You’re awake," she said, setting a steaming enamel cup on a small wooden stool. Her tone was soothing, the exact opposite of the harsh barks I was used to at home. "Don't be afraid. You’re safe here. I’m Aunty Ngozi."

She reached out, her warm hand gently resting on my freezing forehead. She told me she had been packing up her provisions stall late in the night when the storm started. On her way home, she found me huddled under a closed shop canopy, shivering violently and completely unconscious in the mud.

A heavy lump formed in my throat. Tears threatened to spill over my eyelashes, burning my eyes, but I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, and didn’t let them fall. Crying wouldn't fix this. I had run into the storm to get help for my mother. I was supposed to find someone to stop my father. Now, the harsh reality crashed down on me. I had absolutely nowhere to go, no money, and no way to help the woman I left behind.

Yet, as the warmth from Aunty Ngozi's small room began to thaw my frozen fingers, a strange realization washed over me. For the first time since that terrible night began, I believed I had actually survived.

I didn’t know what was next. The future was a terrifying, empty road. But I knew this one, undeniable truth:

The girl who ran to save her mother would have to learn how to save herself first.