The Prey 7

I’d let myself believe the storm was over. Big mistake, especially because before the trip there really was just silence so I wonder what I believed the storm was? A bunch of girls ignoring me? Oh how scary. After Abraham returned from his trip, the real storm begun.

⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post contains depictions of sexual violence and distressing content. Proceed with caution.

It'd been four days since the hostel turned into a battlefield. Akachukwu’s girls dropped their silence and got vicious, like I’d stolen something from them.

Part <6

They’d barge into my dorm, sit on my bed, and just stare, their eyes cutting like broken glass, not saying a word. They’d punish every girl for nonsense—not smelling like watermelon and instead a 'harsh papaya scent', smelling like watermelon instead of a 'harsh papaya scent', breathing too loud, wearing ugly eyeglasses—everyone but me. It was like I was untouchable, but it only made the other girls hate me. Their whispers became glares, their resentment thick like smoke choking the air. I was the reason behind their new maltreatment and they wanted me burned for it.

I tried to fix it. One evening during night prep, I gave myself a pep talk, rehearsing how I’d win over Chigozie and Chima, the least hostile girls in my dorm. I’d smile, talk about a popular Nigerian musician I'd googled on the library's computer since I was out of touch with pop culture, or complain about advanced classes stress, I'd act normal, I'd be normal. I stood outside their corner of the SS1 bathroom, my heart pounding, my palms sweaty. I wanted friends, a place to belong. But as I stepped closer, their voices hit me, cruel and loud, spilling through the open door.

“She acted like such a prude the entire first term, who would’ve known she’d trade sex for power? Such a slimy social-climbing slut,” Chima said, her voice dripping venom.

“Yeah, but I don’t blame her though,” Chigozie laughed. “It's Senior Abraham! I don't even have to trade anything, he could get some of this for free.”

“Senior Abraham is not my type, he's too fair, but I get.” Chima cackled.

My breath caught, my feet glued to the floor. They kept talking, their voices fading as they walked toward the door. “Oh my God, I haven’t done my advanced home economics assignment yet. Advanced classes are so much tougher than the normal ones.”

“Yeah, but if you don’t pick them, how would you qualify to be an academic star? Next term is what makes or breaks us, it'd determine if we get into academic stars in SS2” Chima said. “Did you notice that skank picked advanced classes too? She too wants to become an academic star ke. With Abraham on her arm, she thinks what? She’d be the first female Senior Prefect? She’s such a social climbing b word. How can the senior prefect and the labour prefect be fighting over a lackey? Is she doing jazz” Chima added in and Chigozie chuckled then said, "Abeg, if she's doing jazz make she show me the way jor. Jazz to pull Senior Abraham, is the kind of Jazz that can pull Davido for me."

Their words were flames, searing my skin, burning my insides. "Ah Chigozie, isn't Davido a married man again? You self are a social climber oh." they both laughed. I stood frozen as they rounded the corner and saw me. Their eyes widened, then narrowed. Chima hissed, Chigozie laughed awkwardly, and they shoved past me, their shoulders grazing mine like I was trash. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just let the pain blaze through me. First term, I’d lapped up rumors about Senior Akachukwu, Senior Abraham, Senior Tejiri, Senior, Senior, Senior, everyone else. Now it was me—every whisper, every glance, about me. The skank, the girl who didn’t belong. I wanted to scream I didn’t choose this, but my voice was ash. Friends? Maybe that was a fire I’d never touch. Who would want to be friends with me when hating me was far more fun instead?

Seven days after Abraham’s return, I found the note. I was in the hostel, digging through my locker for my chemistry jotter, when it slipped out from my books. A folded paper, small but heavy, like it carried poison. My heart jumped as I opened it. One side read, 'Oh, so you didn’t know? Outsiders should never know'. My stomach twisted—Abraham’s words from the computer lab, “You weren’t supposed to know about any of this,” roared in my head. I flipped it, and the other side was a knife: 'We’d forgive you since you’re still a virgin'. My hands shook. Who wrote this? Akachukwu? His girls? Someone higher? My mind locked on Tochi as Abraham's words with deeper meaning now zoomed into my head, "Is Tochi a witch? She was sacrificing a virgin, a fucking virgin to Akas? Gambling on my predictability with a fucking virgin knowing Akas?", if Abraham figured out she knew I was a virgin, then there really was only one person to suspect.

Anger flared, hot and wild, and I didn’t think. I moved.

I found Tochi in the laundry room, alone, flipping a bucket of clothes into the washing machine. Her sleeve was up, fresh bruises purple and raw on her arm, but I was too angry to care. I grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. The tiles were cold, the air thick with bleach, and her eyes widened as I shoved her against the wall.

“How dare you!” I screamed, my voice bouncing off the walls. “Who did you tell I was a virgin? Who, Tochi?”

She yanked her arm free, her eyes narrowing, but then she chuckled, low and bitter. “Now, how was I supposed to know you were one?”

That laugh was fuel on my fire. I slapped her, my palm stung against her cheek. She gasped, her hand twitched like she wanted to hit back, but she froze, her face twisting with frustration. She screamed, a raw, angry sound, and glared at me.

“I can’t even hit you!” she spat. “I can’t hit you, because if I do and Abraham finds out, I’m dead. What’s so special about you, who the hell do you think you are?!”

I was shaking, my anger spilling like molten lava. “You did this to me! You, Tochi did this to me! I’d do anything to get my life back, everyone was so annoying last term but at least I was not getting slapped or trafficking drugs, you brought me into this, don't you ever forget it is because of you Akachukwu slapped me, so don’t you dare do this, don’t you dare hate me too, I'm the one who should hate you, you did this!”

Tochi cut me off, her voice sharp, but her eyes flickered with guilt, her hands trembling and for the first time ever, her strong defenses crumbled. “You’re not the only one who has good memory! Akachukwu asked about you. That tiny-brained dickhead remembered I brought you into this. Yesterday, he beat me up, said it’s my fault he’s a laughingstock. He knows Abraham’s untouchable—everybody likes him more—so he’s coming for you. And I don’t mean that lightweight nonsense on the stairs that I heard Abraham had to cover you up." He kissed me and ripped my house wear but she was saying that wasn't even enough, she called it lightweight. "He’s coming for you.”

My heart stopped. “What do you mean?”

She looked away, her voice low, her eyes wet. “He's really shielding you from everything isn't he? What's Abraham even doing with you? Petty deliveries? Delivering drugs is that all you ever do? You know I gambled on the fact that you might even still be a virgin being the senior prefect's only lackey but I'm beginning to learn gambling on you both always yields me high returns." What was she talking about? Gambling? High returns?

"You've never gotten on any of the night busses have you? How is he allowing you to still be a virgin?" Allowing? "You're so sheltered it isn't fair. While I had to get hit, slapped, punched, kicked and choked for information about you, you don't even know anything! That's why you can't blame me Adaukwu, I told him what I knew. I told him you had no idea about everything, and he got mad I almost ruined him by getting an outsider involved. He beat me up some more in anger and I had to give him information he'd like, I coughed up that you’re still a virgin, you should have seen the way he smiled, I wish I even led with that and I told him… if he gets you—” My eyes widened, “You mean rape me,” I said, my voice flat, cold. Rape me. Of course the staircase was going to be lightweight compared to this. My heart began to race.

She swallowed, her jaw shaking. “Yes. If he gets you and he does to you what he does to me every Friday night" Every Friday night? No, please no. "Tochi?" I cut in staring at her and she glared at me but nodded slowly. No.

No matter how many deliveries I was doing now, how many girls Abraham assigned to me, Tochi and I, we were both prey. Prey to the system. Prey.

She continued on like she didn't just admit to the worst thing I've ever heard in real life, "I don't need your worthless pity, I'm his lackey Adaukwu, it's normal. In fact, I don't view it as rape, I consent everytime, it's a privilege itself. But screw you." Screw me? "Once he gets you, knowing now you're still a virgin he’d wreck Abraham into the anger he’s looking for, make him act careless. That's all he really wants, Abraham is so nonchalant and cool, always acts after thinking, he's planning something that Abraham wouldn't see because he'd be acting in anger and that's all I really know." Did she tell me all these because in some miraculous twist of faith, the one person I could have never expected was the one person in this entire hostel who... did not hate me? Did she like me? Did she consider me... a friend?

Was Tochi my first friend in this school? I mean it made sense didn't it, the girl who pulled me into this world was going to stand next to me through it al—

"I have no regrets, it was me or you.” Of course not.

“You’re a monster,” I whispered, my stomach twisting. Her bruises, her tears—they pulled at me, made me see her as prey, like me, caught in this system’s jaws. I wanted to reach out, to find one person in this hostel who didn’t hate me, but her words stopped me cold: It was me or you. She’d sell me out again, and the thought made my skin crawl. Friends did not sell each other out. She was not my friend. No one was.

“Not all of us get the Senior Prefect falling for us,” she spat, her voice breaking but defiant. “I’d throw you to the lions without blinking, Adaukwu. Isn't that why we're here in the first place?”

“How did you even know I was a virgin?” I yelled. “We’re not friends!”

She laughed, cruel and shaky. “Because you act like one. Careless, quick to talk, gliding on luck you don’t deserve. I hate you for it, so spare me the theatrics of the senior prefect's lackey judging me, don’t judge me for saving myself.”

Her words hit like a fist, and I stepped back, my chest tight. I wanted to scream, to cry, but something in me shifted. She was prey, most definitely, to Akachukwu, to the system but she was also a predator, to me.

I was desperate, lonely, seeing a friend where there was none meanwhile she was seeing a prey in me. My eyes stung, not just from anger but from the ache of wanting someone, anyone, to be on my side. But not her. Not Tochi.

I turned to leave, my slippers slapping the tiles, when she yelled, “Akachukwu’s not Abraham-smart, but he scored a 99%. He’s smart enough to ruin your life and somehow that'd be enough for me.” She was back, the defenses that crumbled zoomed back up so quickly I hadn't noticed when and they'd morphed into perfect offense, attacking me even when I wasn't with any weapon.

I didn’t look back. My head spun, her words clawing at me, and I ran, slippers slapping the ground, straight to the Blue House boys’ hostel.

She was right, he did score a 99% and maybe the only difference between him and Abraham was just the fact that he would and Abraham wouldn't. That 1% difference between them both could just easily be ordinary restraint? Akachukwu was smart enough to ruin me. He was careless on the stairs but maybe he actually wasn't? Maybe he just wanted to show Abraham that he could, that no matter how untouchable he was if he wanted to he could, because he could have easily just dragged me into a classroom and done more than just kiss me, but instead he stopped me right in front of the stairs, close enough for Abraham to see and close enough for Abraham to stop. Because stopping was never what he was going for, he just wanted Abraham to see.

My heart pounded, tears burned my eyes, and I didn’t care who saw. I banged on the hostel manager’s window, my voice shaking as I begged to see Abraham. He grumbled, said he couldn’t call the Senior Prefect, no one could, and I’d have to go in myself, so I sprinted to the dorms, my legs on autopilot. It was minutes to light out so the hostel floors were empty, no one was wandering around, only the dorms were any signs of life with their loud noises and bright lights, even though the last time I’d been here I didn’t go to his room, it was easy to guess the top floor was his, relying on this school’s obsession with hierarchy. So, I ran upstairs. The "Senior Prefect" on the door told me I’d made a smart guess, so I knocked, hard, over and over, until the door flew open.

Abraham stood there, in a loose singlet and shorts, hair wrapped in a black durag, his eyes catching the dim light in front of his dorm room, his eyebrows knitted like he was about to cuss. But his eyes softened when he saw me, and he pulled me inside, slamming the door shut. A faint scent of mint hit me, sharp and clean, lingering in the air of his room. The walls were white, stark under the white lights, a basketball hoop nailed to one corner, paintings lined the wall and a huge TV had the screen paused on Netflix. A small refrigerator hummed by the bed, and a narrow corridor led off the room, bags of groceries—noodles, cans, bread—peeking out, stacked neatly.

The Senior Prefect's dorm. As fitting as the title.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low, urgent, his hands on my shoulders.

I was crying again, for someone who’d gone years without tears, it was all I did around him. “Tochi. Tochi told Akachukwu I'm still a virgin and I also didn’t know about anything before. I found out after I got this.” I shoved the note into his hands, my voice breaking. “He’s going to ruin me. What if they get me? What if they wreck me? And Akachukwu’s girls, for days they’ve been on me, Abraham. I didn't tell you because I thought they'd eventually tire out but it's too much for me to bear right now. They sit on my bed, stare at me, punish everyone but me. The dorm hates me, they think I’m a skank, trading sex for power.”

He read the note, his jaw tightening as he flipped it over. 'Oh, so you didn’t know? Outsiders should never know. We’d forgive you since you’re still a virgin'. His eyes darkened, but he just said, “Interesting,” his voice calm and I don't know if it was over familiarity or from anxiety but it angered me.

“Interesting?” I snapped at Senior Abraham, the senior prefect, wiping my face. “That’s it? They’re calling me a skank, Abraham, and Akachukwu’s coming for—”

“Adaukwu, this was bound to happen, there are no virgins in this world for a reason.” he cut in, his voice steady, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re sleeping here tonight. Not just because hostel doors automatically lock after lights-out. If we walk out together in the morning, you in your house wear, everyone’ll get their confirmation that we have sex. The virgin target on you will drop.”

My cheeks burned, the plan making sense, but a pang hit me. “It’d make the skank title worse,” I said, my voice small, sadness creeping in. “Sleeping with you for power.”

He exhaled, his hands on my shoulders, grounding me. “Adaukwu, Akachukwu’s not the most dangerous person to fear in this school. I’d get sanctioned for ‘taking your virginity,’ a privilege I didn’t gamble on and earn." Gamble on and earn? "Lackeys get traded here. Virgins are high stock, and I’m not involved because shit like that is just naturally Akachukwu’s turf. I handle the drugs. Akachukwu handles the sex, but trust me, if drugs aren’t dark enough, you don’t want to know what really gets traded, how there’s money to fund everyone’s addiction, why there’s addiction in a secondary school, how this school enjoys so many leverages, I try to shield you from the other side of this world but there are no virgins in here. This—us, people thinking we're together—keeps you safe, even if it hurts your name.”

I looked at him, my chest tight, his words sinking in. He was right—his plan could shield me from Akachukwu, from the night busses Tochi feared, from the sex trade that made her tremble. But the rumors, the lies, they cut deep. But something else was beginning to cut deeper, I’d admitted to myself I liked him in the tunnels, but that wasn’t enough anymore. I was tired of being pushed around, of having no say. I wanted control, even if it was just over this.

“You know what pretending to be together looks like?” Abraham asked, “Because we’d be hard launching tomorrow.”

“Hard launching?” I asked, my eyebrows raising.

“Yes. I'm going to walk you to your hostel, kiss you in front of it and wait for you to freshen up. When we get to the cafeteria, I’m also going to kiss you in front of everyone. Would you be okay with that?” His eyes glinted, bold and reckless. “Kiss me... in public?” I echoed, my voice small, the thought sending a shiver through me.

“Yes. And to seal in the ‘we fuck’ rumor, I’m going to squeeze your butt in the cafeteria too.”

I squealed, my hands flying to my face. “Jesus! Everyone is going to have the evidence to believe I’m a slut for real!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes softening with guilt. “But it’d keep you safe, this isn't Akachukwu's handwriting so the 'we' in that paper is definitely a plural, he's not the only one who knows you're a virgin and that means the information has rapidly spread but with him most likely claiming dibs on you. Don't worry about it though, I won't let anyone else touch you.”

Anyone else. Else. Other than... him?

His words hung between us, and the air thickened, charged with something heavy. Realization. We were alone in his room. Just us two and it wasn't a place like the computer lab or his tuck shop room, this place had a bed, not a bunk bed like I'm used to, not something smaller like the one in the room I'd slept in last, this bed was huge. Spacious, enough for two.

His eyes traced my face, lingering on my lips, and my skin tingled under his gaze. He was so close, his breath warm, the faint mint scent of the room mixing with his nearness, making my head spin. My heart pounded, a spark of attraction igniting in my chest, like a flame I couldn’t douse. He wanted to protect me, but the way he looked at me—like he was fighting himself—made my stomach flip. I was done being a pawn.

No one ever asked what I wanted and for a while I unsure about what I wanted, but staring into his eyes in the quiet like we were frozen in time, I suddenly realized the one thing I wanted. Through thick and thin, pulsing in my heart like a second brain on its own.

“Abraham, I don’t want to pretend,” I said, my voice trembling but firm, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Since I came into this school, it feels like everything just happens to me. Like I'm a pawn in everyone's game, Tochi especially. I have no say in anything, and I’m tired. For once, I just want to feel like I have a front-row seat in my own life. I don’t want to play pretend, please. Especially not when my feelings for you are real.” I shocked myself ending with that sentence and this was the problem with confidence, it could easily spill into over confidence.

He froze, his eyes widening, shock flickering across his face. “Feelings for me?” he asked, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

“I like you,” I said still high off the over familiarity that was boosting my over confidence, staring at him, my heart hammered, my breath shallow. Our eyes locked again, the room faded—the white walls, the basketball hoop, the hum of the refrigerator, the sharp presence of the air conditioning—until it was just us, the atmosphere electric.

This was it. Break or Make. Would my overconfidence be rewarded or rejected? How could he even reject me? But most importantly, how could I already tell he wouldn't?

Abraham stepped closer, his gaze intense, unwavering. “Adaukwu,” he said, his voice soft but sure, “I don’t want to play pretend too.”

The lights cut out—darkness swallowed the room, the white lights and air conditioning gone.

Lights out.

A quiet buzz suddenly hummed, and dim blue lights flickered on, casting a soft glow. The sudden privacy, the silence, hit like a spark, and he kissed me, his lips crashing onto mine, fierce and hungry. I kissed him back, my fingers gripping his singlet, pulling him closer, our bodies pressed tight. This was our third kiss—computer lab, tunnels, now—but this one was raw, fueled by my confession, the darkness cloaking us, letting passion rock us.

Did he really not already know that I liked him? There was something about him, quietly excited about this moment, the way a kid squeals over getting his dream present on his birthday. I gave him that?

His hands slid to my hips, lifting me, my legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed me against the door, the mint scent sharp in my nose, his warmth overwhelming.

The lights flickered back on—white lights, air conditioning humming. Abraham pulled back, still kissing me, and muttered, “Prefect rooms don’t experience lights-out.” Lux et Gloria, “Of course,” I giggled, my voice muffled against his lips, the first time I talked while kissing and I was surprised to find out how easy it actually was, my heart raced, the intensity of the dark still lingering.

He carried me to his bed, the large mattress in a tall frame, dropping me gently, his eyes locked on mine, softer now but still burning. He leaned over me, his hands framing my face, and paused, his breath ragged. “Adaukwu,” he said, his voice low, vulnerable, “Before I go any further, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

My heart soared, his words hitting like a promise. I searched his eyes, seeing the weight of his question, he wasn’t just asking for now, but for whatever fight lay ahead. “Abraham,” I said, my voice shaking, “Are you asking me out, for real?”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “You're right, why do we have to play pretend if our feelings are real? I didn’t know you had any for me until you said it. Those kisses before—I thought you were just scared, trying to forget Akachukwu and well, you were. When I found out you were a virgin, I didn’t want to take advantage, to dishonor you, not when I’m fighting so much already. But this—” He touched my cheek, his fingers warm. “You're right, you're the only real thing in my life as pathetic as it sounds. I don't want to play pretend too.”

I swallowed, my mind racing. This was my choice, my front-row seat. Akachukwu, the system, the war Abraham was fighting, his reputation as Senior Abraham the possessed I’d be aligning with—they’d come for us. But I wanted him, his past, his secrets, and I’d fight for this. “Yes,” I said, my voice soft but sure. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

He smirked, a rare lightness breaking through. “You don't say.”

I laughed, the sound cutting the tension, and we kissed again, softer, like sealing a vow. His hands traced my sides, warm through my house wear, then slid higher, brushing the curve of my chest, gentle but deliberate. My breath caught, heat growing where he touched, and I pressed closer, my fingers gripping his singlet, wanting more. I slid my hands down, tracing the lines of his chest, then lower to his thighs, bold, driven by the spark between us. Abraham’s kisses deepened, his hand cupping my hip, fingers slipping just under my houser wear, grazing my skin as he moved upwards, his palm landed on my underwear and as he slowly squeezed, it felt like practice, needed practice for tomorrow. At least now tomorrow, I knew what to expect.

I shivered, matching his intensity, my fingers exploring the edge of his shorts. His grip tightened briefly, a flicker of tension, but he didn’t pull away. Then my fingers brushed something rough—scars, faint but jagged, hidden under the fabric. Akachukwu’s words echoed: "Hesitation scars, Abrams."

I wouldn’t have focused on what I felt—would have assumed they were scratches, maybe nothing—if those words didn't ring in my ears. Somewhere I wouldn’t have seen easily, somewhere he would have seen, his inner thighs—that was what I was feeling, wasn’t it? My stomach twisted, and I blurted out, “Abraham, do you cut yourself?” I remembered how he’d iced me out last time I tried to talk about it, but I couldn’t stop.

He froze, his breath hitching, his eyes wide with something like fear. “Don’t, Adaukwu,” he said, his voice low, strained, as he tried to stand up.

I grabbed his arm, my heart racing, my voice soft but firm. “A wise man once told me, "talking about it is a long-term fix", I'm your girlfriend now. I'm here to listen so please. Tell me.”

He exhaled, his shoulders slumping, his eyes distant as he sat back down. “I did, I don't anymore.” he said, his voice heavy. “After Asher. I… I started cutting, here, where nobody’d see. Not to die, not really. It was control. Something I could stop, help, save. I stopped when I got into Lux et Gloria. The drugs helped too—heroin especially, to numb it. I’m not suicidal, but… I don't fear death, I welcome it.”

My chest ached, tears burning my eyes, but I didn’t let go. “The world’s better with you in it,” I said, my voice soft but sure. “You’re fighting, Abraham. For Asher, for me. You're regulating the system and fighting Akachukwu.”

He looked at me, his eyes raw, like he wanted to believe it but couldn’t. “I’m actually regulating Akachukwu and fighting the system,” he said, his voice low, a warning.

“W-what?” I stuttered, confusion gripping me.

“The system’s bigger than him, Adaukwu. I’m playing a longer game. It’s a dangerous one. More than you know.” He stared into my eyes, searching, then softened. “But now Akachukwu’s got you in his sights, and I can’t… I won’t let him or anyone else touch you.”

Fear gripped me, but I pushed it down, defiant. He was fighting a war I couldn’t see, and I’d chosen him—real, scars, danger, and all. "Tochi said he's targeting me to push you into anger, where you'd be so set off you'd finally act without thinking. He's trying to create a blind spot to trap you in." I told him and he scoffed and said, "Interesting."

Akachukwu’s threat loomed, a shadow that could swallow us, and the system’s claws were sharper than I’d imagined. Could we win? Or would we burn out? I didn’t know, but I knew I wouldn’t let him fight alone.

I leaned in, resting my forehead against his, my hand on his scars, my heart steady, beating for him, for us. “I’m with you,” I whispered, my voice trembling but sure. “No matter what.”

He nodded, his hand covering mine, his breath shaky. We stayed there, the scars between us, the system’s weight pressing in, and Akachukwu’s plan creeping closer. My blood hadn’t spilled yet, but the floor was waiting, and I’d fight with him—until we tore it all down or it tore us apart.