Burn Me Slowly.

Chapter Three: The stranger with cold eyes.

the car smelled of leather and silence.

Yena sat stiffly, her eyes locked on the raindrops crawling down the windows. the SUV moved like a shadow, smooth and controlled, but inside her chest, everything trembled. her palms were wet. her throat ached. she hadn't said goodbye. not properly. because how do u say goodbye when u're being sold like a property?.

she stole a glance at the man beside her.

late twenties, neatly dressed. a tailored black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, veins showing against his fair skin. he wore no smile, no warmth. his jaw was sharp, his gaze focused. not on her but on his phone screen. his fingers moved rapidly, sending messages In a language she didn't understand.

he hadn't said much since picking her up. just her name. not even a greeting.

Yena studied his face quickly, careful not to be caught. there was something disturbingly calm about him. as if this was a routine. as if buying girls was part of his daily work.

she wanted to scream, to ask"why me? what do you want from me?" but she couldn't speak. not yet

not with her dignity shattered and her voice buried in betrayal.

an hour passed, then two. the sun had disappeared behind thick clouds and the road turned Smooth.almost too smooth.they weren't in Auchi any more but in Lagos. Yena noticed growing luxury around them. freshly paved roads, high walls, houses with gate taller than coconut trees.

when they finally stopped, it was in front of a massive compound.white walls. guard dogs, electric wires, cameras. the kind of place Yena only seen in Nigeria movies.

Yena always thought like what Lagos will look like but never thought it could be beautiful as this

her heart pounded. this wasn't a house. it was a fortress.

the man stepped out first, walking around to her side. he aponed the door without a word.yena hesitated her legs didn't want to move.

he didn't offer a hand. didn't threaten her. he just stared.

his voice was calm, deep, and soft like a velvet soaked in steel.

"get out"

Yena stepped down slowly, her knees week. the ground beneath her felt too clean, too strange, she looked up at the building, three floors, glass balconies, tall pillars. this place wasn't a house. it was a palace.

a man in white kafptan came out from the door, bowed slightly to the stranger, and then whispered something to him. the stranger gave a nod and turned to me.

"your room is up stairs, second door on the left. don't lock the door."

he walked past her like she was air.

Yena turned to the man in kafptan "what's his name?" she whispered.

the man blinked "you don't know?"

i blinked at him and shook my head.

he looked slightly confused. then answered simply. " that's Mr Raymond."

Raymond.

the name curled around me like a smoke. cold, shape less, dangerous.

as i was led up the stairs by the silent maid, i clutched the small bag i had brought. it only held two wrappers, a bible, and a photo of my siblings with grandma on.i couldn't bring my self to look at it.

the room was beautiful, almost unreal. white bed sheets . air conditioning, a flatscreen tv. curtains that smelled of lavender. but i didn't sit. didn't touch anything.

i stood in the middle of the room and wept. not loudly. just the quiet sobbing of someone whose soul had been stolen.

my mother and her friend had given me up to this man. and i had no idea who he was.

but one thing i was clear about, Raymond didn't want my love.

he had bought me for something else.

and i had no power to stop it.

and besides we were supposed to go back to his country but i had no idea why he took me to this house here in Lagos . and how many days we are going to spend here. maybe weeks or months but i have no idea.

maybe he's working on a business project here in Nigeria.

well i don't know and i have no intention of asking.