The Prey 8

May 24, 2025

The Prey 8

The morning after Abraham’s dorm felt like stepping straight into an action movie set, right in the middle of an airplane stunt. The shock on his friends faces when they walked into his room while he was dressing up and saw me flayed on his bed felt unreal.

⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post contains extremely sensitive content that may be distressing to some readers and it is not intended for viewers under the age of 18. Proceed with caution.

I wasn’t exactly sure what they were really confused about, if they were confused because girls weren’t allowed in the boys’ hostel, or because a girl was in his room at all when he usually reserved the “conjugal visits” he did for another room, or because it was me, an SS1 girl, or were they just confused because it was his lackey of all girls. His lackey in his bedroom, laying on his bed as if it were the most casual thing in the world. Had to be it.

Part <7

All in all, I witnessed a lot of confusion pass through their faces, and it made me remember the first time I ate with them at their table. It made me realize Abraham was not going to explain anything, and they knew it.

Senior Emeka grabbed the PS console, switched the TV mode, and tossed another console to Senior Marvelous as they just joined me on the bed, while Senior John just stood and stared at me. Which was typical, he never spoke and I don't think I'd ever heard his voice, not even when he passed me the salt weeks ago. Senior John was always silent.

He was the only prefect amongst them, he was the Laboratory prefect while the rest of them were Academic Stars. He had two star badges on his uniform, while the rest had one star badges on theirs while Abraham was the only one in the school who had three star badges on his, boldly printed right under the "Senior Prefect" label on his collar.

Senior John occasionally smoked weed but his main "trafficked item" was actually alcohol which was always filled to the brim in the water bottle he collected from his lackey every breakfast. You couldn't smell the alcohol even when he opened his tightly sealed bottle, you wouldn't even know it was alcohol as I didn't, until when I accidentally leaned over to serve Abraham one day and smelt a spirit-tang on his breath.

They were all dressed and soon after, so was Abraham and I realized it must be routine for them to come into his room every morning, because it just felt natural for them to be in there as Abraham put on the ironed uniform a Junior student had knocked an hour ago to deliver to him—another perk of being a senior prefect, was that you didn't do your own laundry and every morning you received a starch-pressed outfit.

After we left his room, I walked behind Abraham while holding his hand, like we’ve been doing for a while, but this time, things felt ‘real,’ no longer just because he wanted to send a message but because I could tell he enjoyed the feel of my hand in his with the way he turned my palm and squeezed randomly as we walked.

The Seniors moved toward the cafeteria with a quiet nod at Abraham, who nodded back as he and I moved toward my hostel. Outside my hostel, junior students froze as Abraham escorted me back, their eyes wide, some bowing so low their heads nearly grazed the dirt. “Good morning, Senior Prefect,” they chanted as they walked past, voices trembling with awe.

A term ago I could have easily been one of these girls, bowing obediently to authority not even questioning why.

So, all I could do was understand their shock because this had never happened. From all the rumors I’d ever heard and my current knowledge so far, even if a girl did sneak into the boys’ hostel, she had to sneak back to her hostel quietly—like I did hours before breakfast when I'd slept over in his hostel before—let alone hold hands with the Senior Prefect who was walking her back to her hostel.

We stopped in front of my hostel and it was like everyone stopped walking too and just paused to watch. My house wear felt too thin under their stares, my heart pounding as Abraham’s hand rested on my lower back. He leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a slow, deliberate kiss on the hostel steps. Gasps sliced through the crowd, sharp and loud. This was his “hard launch,” and it burned through me because suddenly all I wanted to do was kiss him back like he was a lifeline holding me back to Earth.

Inside, the hostel buzzed with whispers. I braced for glares, for slut-shaming. I was prepared, even as I brushed and bathed. I waited for the gossip, I anticipated the name-calling, but I got nothing but stares.

Chigozie and Chima, the girls who’d torn me apart in the bathroom last night, approached my bunk, their smiles warm, almost too perfect. “Adaukwu, we’re so sorry for what we said,” Chima said, her voice soft, sounding sincere. “We were just being mean b words, you know? Total nonsense.”

Chigozie nodded, her eyes wide with earnestness. “Yeah, we feel awful. I guess us getting singled out because of you just got to us a bit. But we should not have talked so nastily about you like that last night. Let’s start over, okay?”

Hope flickered in my chest. Friends—maybe I could still have them. I smiled, hesitant but real. “It’s okay,” I said, my voice quiet. They lingered as I changed into my uniform, their chatter filling the air. Chigozie complimented my braids, saying they looked “so sleek,” and Chima offered to share her hair oil, insisting it’d make mine glow. They asked about my classes, my favorite teachers, and I answered, my guard slipping. I even employed my knowledge I'd googled on the Library's computer on Davido and they laughed at my complaints about the Advanced Classes.

Friends?

Friends.

Their laughter felt like a lifeline, and I let myself lean into it, imagining us eating together, sharing secrets. They suggested walking to the cafeteria together, saying it’d be “fun, all three of us.” I nodded, my heart lifting.

I almost couldn’t believe it. Friends? Friends of my own? Did they know about the trafficking that went on in this school? I doubt it, no. I was certain they didn’t. Would I ever tell them? For their safety, I probably never would, but still, we could talk about so many other things. Together, as friends would.

Friends.

I have friends now.

As we headed toward the stairs, their chatter stayed constant, but Chigozie’s voice shifted, casual but pointed. “So, you’re actually dating Senior Abraham, huh? How'd you do it? That’s huge. You’re, like, untouchable now.” Chima giggled, nudging me. “Yeah, I thought you guys just shared a surface level sexual relationship but, you’re basically running things now. You’re like the first lady of this school. We should stick together, you know? It’s better with you. Imagine how much things we could do with you on our side.”

Oh.

The words hit like ice. I froze mid-step, my hand gripping the railing.

Their smiles, their compliments, their warmth—it wasn’t for me. They wanted to trail behind Abraham, to bask in his power through me.

What a humiliating joke that I was the butt of.

They weren’t looking to be friends with me, and yesterday proved it. They were only looking to be friends with some alleged first lady. Someone they could benefit off from.

And it hurt because these were the least hostile girls in my dorm, they were the only "good ones" and they didn't even want me.

They weren’t friends; they were climbers, using me to get close to the Senior Prefect, just like the people who became friendlier once they found out I was his lackey, but now this newfound ‘position’ opened me up to evolved tactics because now the ‘benefits’ were enhanced, even in ways I had not fully wrapped my head around.

What was it like being the only three -stared general's first lady? Did his "power" and "authority" suddenly become my own? Could I do whatever I wanted because it would be the same as the Senior Prefect doing it?

But I didn’t want to be used as I didn't even want to "use" his authority. I’d rather be alone.

My chest tightened, hurt cutting deep, and I turned cold, my face hardening. “I forgot something,” I muttered, jogging down the stairs, my slippers slapping the tiles. Their confused calls followed, but I didn’t look back.

Outside, Abraham waited, his dark blonde coils catching the morning light. I rejoined him, my throat burning, and glanced back. Chigozie and Chima were hurrying down, their eyes locked on us. I squeezed Abraham’s palm, my voice low. “Let’s wait a bit.” He frowned, his gaze flicking to the girls as they approached, their smiles nervous now. “Good morning, Senior Prefect,” they chorused, nearly tripping over themselves to bow. Abraham’s eyes narrowed, intense and unyielding, like he saw through their act. They faltered, their greetings trailing off, and scurried away, their steps unsteady.

As they disappeared, Abraham turned to me, his voice soft but tired, heavy with something like regret. “Adaukwu, your need for friends… it’s a vulnerability. People worse than Tochi will sniff it right off you and prey on you. Kill it.”

His words sank into me, sharp and cold, like a truth I didn’t want to face. I nodded, my throat tight, his warning echoing in my head.

At the cafeteria, the air crackled. Abraham led me to his- our table, since we came in a bit late the food was already spread out of their serving coolers—warm naan bread, steaming garlic butter soup, grilled prawns, and mango lassi, exclusive to their untouchable status as I'd noticed the SS1 section had Rice and Chicken Sauce spread on their tables in less expensive plates.

This was what Lux et Gloria academy did, because elsewhere Rice and Chicken Sauce was an exclusive dish even the thick chicken chunks soaking in the thick gravy signaled high quality, I was aware not every boarding school served such meals as ordinary breakfast but.. The inclusion of naan bread and butter soup? Something only academic stars had access to was one of the little things that pushed everyone to strive harder to become one; the availability of options only the very best in this school had access to.

Every eye tracked us—juniors, seniors, even the cooks—because this time, unlike other days, we weren’t just holding hands; we were walking with his arm around my waist. He paused, his arm squeezing tight around my waist, and leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “Are you ready?” he whispered.

I gulped, my heart racing. My hostel mates were already whispering to others, hands cupped over mouths, spreading what they’d seen. Abraham’s words rang in my ears—Kill it. My need for friends was a weakness, a crack in my armor. I’d never have them, not here, not ever. So why should I care about what people would now add to say against me?

I straightened, meeting his gaze, forcing the ache down. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady.

Abraham pulled me closer, his hand firm on my waist. “Now giggle,” he whispered, his tone playful but deliberate. I giggled, the sound light despite the weight in my chest, and he kissed me, his lips crashing onto mine, deep and unapologetic.

Would it always feel like this? Would kissing him always quiet my mind? Would it always feel so electric yet calm in the relaxing way I'd grown to crave?

The hall went silent, so quiet I could’ve heard a pin drop. His hand slid lower, grabbing a handful of my butt, just like we’d practiced last night, bold and public. A girl at a nearby table slumped dramatically, faking a faint, her tray clattering.

What was it? The Senior Prefect and his Lackey? A Senior and a Junior? The Senior Prefect and a measly SS1 student? What was it that they were so strongly reacting to? Whispers erupted, sharp and cutting. “He’s just claiming his rights,” an SS2 boy muttered, loud enough to carry. “Senior Prefect gets any whore he wants.”

Whore. There it was. What I've been bracing for all morning, something I thought I was prepared to handle. But no, I wasn't.

The word stung, slicing into my heart, and Abraham froze, his eyes snapping to the boy and suddenly, a scary glint of pleasure flashed in his blue orbs. I caught it, I recognized it, the raw edge that made him Senior Prefect.

My stomach twisted, but I stayed still, watching.

He stood, serving himself from the buffet—naan, soup, prawns—then served me, which was another action that prompted even louder gasps because serving himself was one thing that never happened since I his lackey joined the table, but him serving his lackey—whore?—was another. Abraham piled my plate with care, but I caught something dangerous dance in his eyes. Then he turned, staring straight at the SS2 boy, his voice calm but deadly. “She’s not a whore.”

The hall went quieter, if that was possible. Abraham’s gaze didn’t waver, a smirk tugging at his lips, like he was savoring this.

Was he?

“Stand up. Drop to your knees and crawl over here,” Senior Abraham the possessed, commanded, and I felt my body flinch.

The rumors flooded back in my head—violence, power, fear.

If they weren’t about his looks, the whispers about Senior Abraham were never good. They said he was possessed, they drew analogies between him and how the devil himself was also attractive.

He was still part of the system, wasn’t he?

He wasn’t just Abraham Sawyer—he was the Senior Prefect Abraham Sawyer. Part of the system. Regulating it.

I pinched my wrist, discomfort twisting in my gut. What could I say? Nothing. I just watched, my heart pounding.

The boy, dark-skinned with bright pink lips, trembled but obeyed, crawling across the floor, his knees scraping. Whispers buzzed: “He’s a boy, apologizing to a girl?” “A senior to a junior?”

Abraham’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with control. Did he… enjoy this? “Apologize to her,” he said, his voice almost playful.

Of course he did. The predator-prey game tied back to him. He didn’t start it, but he didn't just participate in it, he also ruled it.

Senior Prefect Abraham Sawyer.

The boy looked up at me, barely hiding a glare. Maybe he, too, thought it an abomination to apologize to a girl and unfortunately enough for him just like the very first day I met him, Abraham caught it.

"Do you have a problem with that?" He asked my senior in the same voice he'd asked Akachukwu in months ago with that same smile and dagger throwing eyes.

The SS2 boy shook his head and said, "Not at all." Sealing in my final wave of deja vu. Senior Abraham nodded slowly then nudged his head at me in a way that told him to go on then.

"I’m sorry,” my Senior muttered, apologizing to me, his voice tight. Abraham raised an eyebrow. “Adaukwu, do you forgive him?”

I nodded, my throat dry, staring at the boy’s barely concealed anger. “Yes,” I said, my voice small. He really wasn’t the Senior Prefect by accident; it was because he had the ability to display an unchecked amount of cruelty, just as any other academic star could.

Senior Abraham leaned back, still smirking. “Crawl back to your seat, then sit.” The boy did, the hall watching in stunned silence. Abraham stood taller, his voice echoing. “Adaukwu is not a whore. She’s my girlfriend.”

As he spoke, Akachukwu stood, and I could feel his anger radiate off him, his table’s meal cooler crashing to the floor, butter soup and prawns splattering. His eyes burned into me, then Abraham, raw with fury. Without a word, he stormed out with his two closest friends—tall SS3 boys with cruel smirks, one of whom had separated Akachukwu and Abraham when they’d fought weeks ago—flanking him. Every girl tied to him, from every hostel, followed like soldiers. The girls from my hostel, the ones who’d sat on my bed and stared, were last, their eyes slicing me as they passed. My stomach knotted.

But Abraham chuckled, like, for some reason, he'd predicted their exact reaction and sought it, like they’d fallen into his trap, and I decided to find comfort in his soft laughter.

During lunch break, I was in my classroom, reading ahead in Biology since we had the subject immediately after break, when two SS3 girls—academic stars, one of them with green eyes and wavy red hair, while the other had brown eyes and long, thick locs, their uniforms crisp as each of them smelled like strawberries dipped in honey—called me out.

My heart sank immediately, bracing for a fight, for a spectacle, to be bullied or slur-shamed to my face, but instead, they smiled, their faces open. “Adaukwu, can we talk?” one asked, her voice gentle. I followed, wary, to a quiet corner near the library.

“I’m Sophie,” the first said, her green eyes kind but sharp. She had an Australian accent that made her name roll off her lips weirdly. “And this is Nnenna. We just wanted to say… you’re really cool. Abraham’s doing all this for you, and it’s so romantic. We’d love to hang out, be friends.”

Were they trying to suck up to me like Chigozie and Chima did earlier?

They had no prefect tag on their uniform, but the stars embroidered down their collars told me they were academic stars of worthy respect, so why would they need to suck up to me?

Nnenna nodded, her smile softer but with a glint of something else. “I used to date Abraham, you know. He never called me his girlfriend, though. Never did half the stuff he’s doing for you.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping. “But you know how he is. He’s sadistic, loves torturing people, so, of course, I didn’t expect him to do anything for me. I had no problems with his sadistic nature in bed, though.” She smirked, her eyes flicking over me. “How was it for you? Your first time with him must’ve been… intense.”

My cheeks burned, discomfort immediately crawling up my spine.

They were fishing, that much I could tell, trying to figure out if I was actually sleeping with him. But why?

I straightened my lower back, my voice firm. “I don’t feel comfortable discussing something like that.”

Nnenna chuckled, her tone teasing. “Oh, come on, Adaukwu, don’t be such a prude. We’re all mature girls here, aren’t we? No one here is a virgin any longer, are we? Don’t feel shame about talking sex with us, especially not sex with Abraham. We saw how he touched you in the cafe this morning; you’ve certainly gone past third base already, haven’t you? Lucky girl, it’s one of the things I miss about Abraham—the sex.” She sighed dramatically, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

I glanced at Sophie, wondering if she was uncomfortable, too, with how crude Nnenna was being, but Sophie just laughed, her voice low and conspiratorial. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve actually tasted the fruit myself. We share him—we shared him.”

Share? What?

My stomach twisted, their words slimy, like they were testing me, pulling me into something I didn’t understand. The way they said “shared” felt wrong, like a secret I wasn’t supposed to hear. I forced a tight smile, my guard up. “I… I don’t know about that.”

"It's alright if the girl doesn't want to talk about her sex life with a bunch of strangers Nnenna. Let her be. Abraham probably has her still in that phase where she blindly trusts everything he tells her, maybe she's signed an NDA already. He's so controlling, I can only imagine what you're suffering." Sophie cut in and for some reason, she spoke over me. Like I wasn't with them, she spoke above me.

Wait. Blindly trusts? He's sadistic? Loves torturing people?

Nnenna’s smile widened, undeterred. “Hey, you should hang out with us during evening prep on Tuesday night. It’ll be fun, just us girls. We can talk more, get to know each other.”

I nodded, wary but not wanting to seem rude. They were still my seniors, anyway, no matter how crass they were being. “Maybe,” I said, my voice careful. “I’ll think about it.”

Sophie’s eyes lingered on me, her smile not quite reaching them. “Just don’t mention us to Abraham, okay? He gets weird about his exes, and we don’t want to stir anything up. Let’s keep this between us girls.”

Nnenna nudged Sophie playfully, her chuckle light but pointed. “Yeah, you know how Abraham is. No need to make things messy, and besides, you should not always trust what he says. He’s a boy, after all, and all men pretend for no good reason. That's what he does best really, makes you feel like you're so special, untouchable and superior but people like him get bored of girls easily. But he's such good pretender while it lasts though. Don't mind me though, I guess I just wasn't the one for him but you are so I can only wish you the best.” Their smiles stayed warm, but something felt off, like a hook hidden in bait. But I still didn’t understand what was even happening yet. Their friendliness was a bit disarming, to the point that, deep down within me, I really did not feel the need to even tell him about meeting them.

They were right, and after watching him punish that SS2 boy today, I do know how he is, and he really was sadistic.

What was going to be the point of bringing up his ex and ex-sexual partner when the whole situation already felt messy? What did she mean by share him? How do they share a human being?

He was actually my boyfriend; why would I want to discuss his exes with him? What type of questions would I even want to know the answers to?

“You’re really beautiful, Adaukwu. I can see why Abraham’s so into you. I think you would make a really good academic star, so study hard, okay?” Sophie told me, reaching for my palm and squeezing my hand.

My chest warmed, but the sting of Chigozie and Chima kept me cautious. “Thanks,” I said, my voice guarded. “I’ll let you know about Tuesday.”

Dating Abraham meant I slowly stopped doing the deliveries; instead, I became a sort of overseer.

Watching the girls he’d assigned to me earlier wrap up the drugs, following them to ensure they delivered them, but, for some reason, instead of complaining about how much less time I actually had to spend with Abraham, I liked that it reduced my having to see Abraham unless I really had to.

Days slowly passed, and I’d occasionally see Senior Sophie, who’d wave excitedly at me, or I’d see Senior Nnenna, who would smile at me softly. Each time they'd come over and talk, ask how my day's going or complain about theirs.

It felt weird. I did not consider them my friends so quickly, but it felt nice finally having people other than Abraham who actually wanted to see me. I didn’t care if they were trying to suck up to me, but, ironically enough, I never saw them when I was around Abraham, which proved to me that maybe they really weren’t using me.

But my glory days of avoiding Abraham did not last long enough.

Seconds after the closing bell rang, Abraham walked into my classroom and stared at me, which was hint enough for me to know he wanted us to talk, so I stood up and walked outside with him.

“Are you avoiding me, Adaukwu?” Of course, ever smart and observant, Mr. Abraham Sawyer went straight to the point.

“No, I’m not, Senior Abraham.”

“Excuse me?” He sounded offended hearing the prefix in his name, as if last term he wouldn’t have punished me for daring to say his name without the prefix.

Senior Nnenna joked he was a hypocrite just this morning and I was beginning to see it too.

“We’re having our evening prep together,” he declared, and I would have nodded without care, until I remembered today was Tuesday.

“Today is Tuesday.” Senior Sophie and Senior Nnenna’s faces flashed in my head. I couldn’t stand them up. In fact, I didn’t want to. I would rather spend my evening prep with them than with someone who enjoys punishing juniors, enjoys exercising his power over people, enjoys acting like a predator.

Was a predator.

“And?”

‘Just don’t mention us to Abraham, okay?’

‘Let’s keep this between us girls.’

I guess I’d just prep with him a bit, then sneak off to join them. I knew now, after days of regularly seeing them and light conversation, that they prepped in the cafeteria, so it was very easy to just switch locations without fear of getting caught.

“Nothing,” I replied with a sigh, and he looked me up and down, as if I were a puzzle piece he didn’t know what to do with yet.

“I’ll be at the tuck shop room. There’s slight renovation going on in the computer lab, which you would have known by now if you’d ever come to the lab to read with me as you previously used to, but since you don’t, I’m sparing you the walk of going up there in vain.” He was being unusually sassy, and I wished I could roll my eyes at him, but a part of me—that immediately felt guilty for thinking like that—wondered if he’d tell me to crawl over to him for doing that.

“Would you like me to get you anything from the cafeteria on my way?” I asked him, and he frowned.

“No, but you can get whatever you want,” he said and pulled out keys from his pocket and placed them in my palm.

“I’ll see you later, Adaukwu, but we really need to talk,” Senior Abraham told me, then turned to leave.

Evening prep was quieter, but my mind was a storm. I saw Senior Sophie and Senior Nnenna walk into the cafeteria when I was walking out after grabbing my request of pepper soup and pounded yam packaged in takeaway—Abraham’s keys were my favorite perk of being associated with him.

They waved, and I knew I had to go over and say hi, the girls assumed the packaged meal was for Abraham. Nnenna once again made a crude joke, but this time it was about his appetite and how it said a lot about a man’s ‘prowess,’ how fast he ate, while I had to smile and nod as if I understood anything.

They told me to hurry back after delivering his meal because it was a girls’ date, and I lied, saying I would be back in the next ten minutes, because, knowing Abraham, he would find it suspicious if I dashed out so quickly. I would be back in the next hour.

I hated how harsh the tuck shop room’s fluorescent lighting was, it was as if it was not designed to be a place of relaxation. I placed the takeaway on the floor in the room, and it finally dawned on me that I was the only one who ever actually ate in this room. It made me wonder if this room was actually a front for something. Because why didn’t he treat this room like what it was? A tuck shop room? A room to eat in? A room to relax in? Why was this room so bright anyways? Was this room where he kept something else?

But, like what? What else?

I spread my books out, but I couldn’t focus, so I closed them and moved to the sink in the room, rinsed off my hands, then moved to unwrap the meal.

Abraham opened the door five minutes later and smiled softly before turning the lock on the door and stepping inside fully.

“Why are you smiling?” I semi-snapped at him and realized his words from earlier were right. Maybe we needed to talk.

But I didn’t know how to start, which was why I was so glad he seemed to.

“Adaukwu, you’re mad at me?” he asked as he pulled out his textbook from my bag.

“Why would you think so, Senior Abraham?” I sipped on my pepper soup, as I’d finished the pounded yam already.

“We’ve not spent time alone in days. I have not kissed you since the hard launch day. I thought we weren’t pretending, I thought this was something real, so why are you avoiding me? And also, for the love of God, please stop adding Senior to my name, it's like you're trying to say something, you say the senior with so much hate almost as if you hate the tag, you hate what I..am. Wait.” No way.

No way he was that observant? No way.

“Senior Abraham? Senior? Adaukwu, is this because of what happened in the cafeteria?” No way?

100/100.

Maybe some people didn't fear him, they just revered him. He really was intelligent, wow.

He set his textbook down, leaning back on the couch, and exhaled slowly. “Adaukwu,” he said, his voice careful, “You have a problem with what I did to that kid in the cafeteria. It made you uncomfortable, didn’t it?”

I nodded, my throat tight. He was right. This was a real relationship.

This us was real, and keeping things bottled up was just building resentment within me. “It did. Deeply. You… you enjoyed it, didn’t you? I saw it in your eyes, the same look from when I said sorry and you went berserk, the same look in your eyes when people explain why they're so certain your parents performed an exorcism on you, because they see the demons in your eyes when you get like that. You’re still that guy, Senior Abraham. Not some accident of a Senior Prefect. You’re like them, but just slightly one percent better because I’ve seen you exhibit empathy, but is that all that separates you from other prefects? An ability to feel empathy? To choose not to or when to? Why did you enjoy it?” I hesitated, then added, my voice smaller, “And until Senior Sophie said you were sadistic, I never really thought of it that way, but suddenly that’s all I can see now. What if you are actually just like them? What if you love torturing people? What if Nnenna and Sophie were right, and one day you’d flip on me?”

He froze, his eyes narrowing to slits. “There’s no Nnenna nor Sophie in my class.” His voice was low, dangerous. “Describe them.”

I swallowed, my heart racing. “Sophie’s a tall white girl with green eyes and soft red hair; Nnenna’s shorter, with perfect locs and brown eyes, always carries a notebook, said she dated you.”

Abraham’s teeth clenched, his fists tightening. “Rachel and Ana. They’re Akachukwu’s fucking exes, figuratively and literally. They're a lesbian couple who on and off invite him into their relationship. Fuck!” He slammed his hand on the table, making me flinch. “Adaukwu, I told you to kill it! Kill it! I can’t have you as a liability. Kill whatever makes you feel like you’re incomplete without friends dragging you down. People can fucking sense it!” He moved over to caress my cheeks.

“I’m sorry I seem to be isolating you. I am so sorry you feel like you’ve lost out on ever meeting genuine friends because of me, but I assure you: the genuine ones find you anyway, but Rachel and Ana are the opposite of genuine.” He sighed and kissed my forehead.

I was in disbelief.

“And let me guess—they somehow convinced you not to tell me anything, and you were going to stick to that, weren’t you?” He leaned closer, his eyes blazing. I nodded, feeling like a fool.

Like a naive clown, a trusting moron. Oh God.

Tears began to water in my eyes, and, once again, as someone who never ever cried… here I was crying again.

“Adaukwu, for now, I’m the only person in this school who you can actually trust, who really cares about you. As fucked up and cruel as it sounds, you need to accept it. Friends will come, friends will find you, I understand how lonely it all feels right now, I've been there countless times and that's how John found me, but please. Let go of needing any.”

My chest burned, shame and fear twisting inside me. He was right—I’d almost kept their secret, drawn in by their smiles. Their words about “sharing” Abraham echoed, now sinister in a new light. I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

His body tensed at my apology and I understood that the word really cut deep into his psyche it triggered a physical reaction from him. But I couldn't focus on that right now.

I felt deep shame, wondering how much of our interactions were even real. Did they laugh immediately when I was out of hearing? Did they roll their eyes behind my back?

What was even the point of any of these?

Why befriend me to avoid Abraham and talk bad about him all the ti—

Oh. They were getting into my head. All the side comments about Abraham were sticking in my consciousness.

I was beginning to resent him, hate him even.

And all for what?

He exhaled, his anger fading to exhaustion, but his eyes stayed sharp. “You didn’t like what I did to that kid, fine. But I’m the Senior Prefect, Adaukwu. I literally exist to enforce the hierarchy. It’s still something you haven’t made peace with. I see that’s the crack I left open that let them worm into your head. But what type of Senior Prefect would let someone loudly disrespect his girlfriend? A weak one. I need you to understand, because you still don’t get it—showing even the slightest hint of weakness unleashes the beasts on you. In Lux et Gloria, the slightest weakness is sniffed out. It’s why Tochi threw you to the wolves, getting you into all of this. She could sense it, your weakness, no matter its current shape, which is, right now, your hunger for friendship. You wear your heart on your sleeves, and you still aren’t getting that that’s bad. That’s fucked up. Stop it. You’re making yourself not just any prey—you’re making yourself The Prey. And Adaukwu, whether you accept it or not, I’m not just any predator. I’m The Predator. I, of all people in this school, cannot afford to show the slightest amount of weakness.”

His words cut deep, stripping away my defenses. My need for friends wasn’t just a flaw—it was a beacon, drawing vultures like Rachel and Ana. And Abraham—he wasn’t just part of the system; he was its apex, wielding power I could barely comprehend. I stared at him, my heart pounding, torn between fear and something else—respect, maybe, or awe.

“I had to dull the whore rumors, Adaukwu. I didn’t like them thinking they could disrespect you. You’re mine, and so, by extension, you’re me. If they would dare not disrespect the Senior Prefect, why would they think to disrespect his girlfriend? I’ve never shown off any girl I’ve slept with, so for them to assume you’re just a sex toy? That’s an insult to you, to me.” He paused, then, “But you’re not wrong, you know? I also enjoyed doing that. He called you a whore; you’re my girlfriend. If I was as unhinged and sadistic as you think I am, I would have beaten him up right there and then, but it’s no fun, because they never fight back. It feels weird, very wrong, beating up someone who never fights back out of fear. So no, I’m not sadistic, I don’t enjoy torturing people. But I am very realistic about where I am, what I am, the role and duties I must play. Are you sure you know what you really signed up for, agreeing to be my girlfriend? Only evil can combat evil. I’m not a good person, Adaukwu.”

My heart sank, but all I could do was question if I was being hypocritical. I opened my arms wide to the benefits of associating with Abraham, but I recoiled at the reality of associating with him?

Of seeing The Prey and The Predator merge into one being, merge into us.

Abraham rubbed his forehead as he spoke, “I know I’m not a good person, Adaukwu. But you seem to struggle with the fact that you’re dating a bad man.” He leaned closer, his gaze piercing. “This fight is bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than us. Good men die in fights like this. A good man doesn't dare to enter this kind of fight. I’m not a good man, Adaukwu. I cannot afford to be a good man. When you’re okay with that, let me know.”

“I’m okay with that.” My voice came out steady despite the ache. “You’re not just fighting the system. You’re fighting from inside."

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve spoken about Asher to you, but you still don’t get it. You see, I used to be a ‘good person.’ I wasn’t always like this. There was a time I didn’t know how to apply the martial arts our parents taught us the few times they visited. Have you ever heard I kicked a boy’s face so hard his jaw dislocated?”

Yes. That was the very first thing I heard of the senior prefect.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Yes,” my voice small, the shift jarring.

He leaned against my shoulder, his hands tapping against the table I’d placed my now-empty takeaway pack on.

“It’s true, that's even what drew Akachukwu's attention to me, that's what dragged me into this world. That’s who I am now. I need to be sure you know what you signed up for… or maybe I’m the one who doesn’t know what I signed up for anymore. When I stare into your eyes I want to be this good man you see, because I know I was, I know I am, I was. Before I came to this school, I was different. Losing my brother changed me, Adaukwu, in ways I wasn’t before. I was an absolute nerd." He sighed softly and continued.

"You know how identical twins are either exactly alike or total opposites? I was the opposite of Asher. He was athletic, cool, a cokehead, sure, but also violent, angry, always fighting, and it really did not help that our absent parents were always teaching us martial arts whenever they remembered they had children and visited. What type of fucking gifts are "Hey, here are some moves I want you guys to learn"? Were they fucking stupid? How about staying for two months this time around instead of one?

In my case, I was using it for self-defense; if I would ever even have to use it, it would be for defense, but Asher went straight into the fire, used every skill for offense and he was good, really good. He sought outward validation while I sought internal validation. He wanted to show them he was good enough so he hyper focused on mastering every martial arts and by 13 he was knocking my dad down easily, he was good. And I… I was the nerd, barely dodging autistic special interest accusations. Would you believe I had an assessment at age ten?" He paused for my response and I nodded.

Because I honestly could see it.

It would explain why he guessed that good.

He chuckled and I smiled at him, genuinely for the first time in days. Then he started talking again, "I don't really blame them though, I was obsessed with maths, calculations, daydreaming about solving equations, visualizing outcomes."

No wonder.

It was like something finally fell into place in my knowledge of him. This was why his intelligence felt different. He was a gifted child.

"If I didn’t have perfect eyesight, I’d have had thick glasses. I was never bullied, by the way, being Asher’s older brother was enough protection enough, people would see me and run and it pissed me off because 'I don't even know you, what you telling me fuck you for?'. The only actual con was everyone who knew he had a twin thought I was the younger one. I'm older than him with six long minutes! I was anyways... Was. I was the twin who could never hurt a fly.”

I swallowed, picturing a softer Abraham, buried under the boy in front of me. “You don’t seem like that now,” I said, my voice gentle, trying to reach him.

He laughed, hollow. “Because I’m not anymore. Asher always got into fights, survived them all. That’s why it’s still surreal that he died so easily. Life is like that; it throws turmoil after turmoil after turmoil at you, and you surpass them all. You forget your mortality; you forget you actually can die, and you will. When he died, I understood him better. He was like that, the ‘irresponsible’ twin, because he was angry. I got angry, angry at him Adaukwu, so angry I became him in ways I never thought I would.”

My chest ached, his pain raw. “You miss him,” I said, my eyes stinging. “But you’re not him, Abraham. You’re still you.”

He shook his head, his eyes distant. “I’m still a nerd, deep down. That’s how I scored the 100%, wasn’t it? Just needed drugs to keep my mind powered on and sharp but it's still there I guess. I still love to daydream about mathematical possibilities. A helpless romantic who wanted to wait till marriage to kiss a girl. That’s why I’m a bloody mumu for you, you know that?” Abraham laughed, and I could tell it came from his very soul with the way his teeth gleamed. I found myself smiling, too.

He was really attractive.

“Today, I overheard my friends say this about me: ‘Why he dey simp over SS1 girl now? That guy… That guy is a bloody mumu!’ Would you believe I actually started laughing, and they found me and eventually joined in? They wouldn’t get it, yeah, because they’ve only seen one part of me, the angry one. But that anger… hitting people felt good. I understood Asher then, why he fought. It burned me out, though, into this quiet calm. That’s what scares me, Adaukwu. I’m not scared of anything, not even death. I just want to play my part, no matter what it costs.”

I reached for his hand, my fingers brushing his. “You’re not fearless because you don’t care,” I said, my voice firm. “You’re fighting for Asher, for me, for all of us. That’s not calm—it’s courage. But you don’t have to do it alone.” I paused, my heart steady despite the weight. “You’re right, I had not made peace with the reality of things. The reality of the part you play as the Senior Prefect. I will respect that because that’s your responsibility. Just… don’t make me part of it, like you did in the cafeteria. Don’t make someone have to apologize to me or do something for me because you’re making them. I told you I want to be front row in my own life, not complicit in bullying others. Leave me out of that.”

Abraham kissed my forehead and nodded.

Then he leaned back, his voice softer but no less intense. “I don’t know what Rachel and Ana wanted to do with you, but for some fucked-up reason, I can’t shake off that it had to do with the night buses.”

Night buses.

Tochi’s words from last night clawed at me—night buses, her trembling voice, the way she’d said Akachukwu would “get” me. I’d avoided asking, scared of the truth, but I couldn’t dodge it anymore.

“Abraham,” I said, my voice low as I turned to stare into his captivating eyes that I’d almost let myself be tricked into thinking were evil, “What are the night buses?”

He froze, then helped me up as he trashed my empty takeaway while I washed my hands.

We both moved to the couch in the room, and I sat down and waited for him to speak, but he just kept staring down. His jaw clenched. When he looked up, his eyes were dark, heavy with something—anger, fear, maybe both.

“You really want to know about the night buses?”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yes.”

He leaned forward, his eyes searching mine.

I took a breath, my voice low. “The night buses, Abraham. Tell me.”

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He leaned against the wall, his eyes locked on mine. “As you already know, Lux et Gloria Academy runs on classism. Only the rich belong here—no scholarships, no mercy. Fees cost millions because this isn’t just a school; it’s a market. It trades the elite’s children, the very best. Rich and academically sound, prestigious children. The night buses… they carry high-value-priced girls. Rich, polished, Lux et Gloria’s finest.”

My stomach churned, but I held his gaze. “What happens on them?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He laughed, a bitter sound that made my skin crawl. “It starts with a cup. Every girl who gets on is ‘offered’ a drink—pushed as a privilege, a favor, ‘good for you,’ ‘better if you do.’ It’s laced with something that knocks you out, makes you pliable, ‘free-willed.’ You do whatever they want that night, all on your ‘own accord.’ Hours, sometimes days, vanish. You wake up back in your dorm, or on the bus, with no memory of what happened. No trauma to name, no evidence to point to. Your body feels wrong—burning, aching, sometimes bleeding—but you can’t cry foul when you don’t remember how. The buses slip out from the school’s back gate, after midnight, to places no one names—hotels, private estates, maybe beyond the city, maybe to airports. The drivers, the handlers, they’re ghosts, paid to stay silent. The clients? They’re not just rich—they’re untouchable. Politicians, moguls, people whose names could topple Nigeria if they fell. If this got out, Adaukwu, it’d be a scandal bigger than anything this country’s seen. Bigger than just a national mess, it would be an international disaster, because it’s not just one man—it’s a network, woven into the system’s core.”

I gripped the table, my nails digging into the wood. “Sex trafficking,” I said, the words heavy, sickening. “They’re selling us.”

Abraham nodded, his face grim. “The drugs—heroin, cocaine—are a front, small-time. The sex trafficking is the core, how the school funds its leverage, its addiction, its prestige. It’s why the buses run like clockwork, why the girls come back clean, polished, like nothing happened. The real drugs are the ones the girls ingest; some are fabricated just for these disgusting purposes. The girls are treated—bathed, massaged, medicated—so the marks fade, the pain dulls. The system’s perfected it: no witnesses, no complaints, just whispers. And the girls who keep going… some chase status—star student, prefect, external networking, actual wealth. Those come faster if you’re ‘chosen.’ Others are trapped—blackmailed, coerced, or just broken. They’re told it’s their choice, but it’s not. Not when the system owns you.”

My breath caught, my mind reeling. Tochi’s bruises, her trembling voice, her Friday nights with Akachukwu—it all clicked. “Tochi’s one of them, isn’t she?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Yeah,” Abraham said, his jaw tight. “She’s Akachukwu’s. He runs the sex side, I run the drugs. That’s the split that brought us peace. But virgins…” His voice cracked, and he looked away, his fists clenching. “Virgins are high-worth. They don’t touch junior students anymore, not since a twelve-year-old died. They made her vanish. Her name was wiped from the school’s history, her lockers cleared, her bunkmate expelled. Like she never existed. Maybe her parents were paid off, or threatened, but no one spoke. People thought she went missing, but I knew—she didn’t come back from that bus alive. I was in SS1 when it happened, just like you. After that, the doses got tweaked. Junior students weren’t fair game anymore. That’s when a new faction of the system opened up, the structure that ‘Akachukwu’s girls’ are built on, originally established when I was in SS2, by the previous Senior Prefect. Akachukwu carried it on. I found out when he was dragging me to those disgusting, depraved, sick networking events. The type of things that go on in those are the disgusting details you read in court documents prosecuting high profiled celebrities. Akachukwu’s girls aren’t just bullies, Adaukwu. They’re vultures. When someone powerful demands a younger girl, they choose her. They groom her—school mother, school aunty, school sister—befriending her, gaining her trust.” Wait a minute?

“Why does that sound familiar? It felt like they were trying to gain my trust, do you think them befriending me has anything to do with the night buses” I asked him, thinking of Rachel and Ana.

Abraham frowned, “It's either that or Akachukwu's bed. What ever it was, was not for your benefit."

Is this what they were doing with me? Abraham continued, “They drug her slowly, for a month, building resistance. Then they put her on the bus, knocked out cold. Someone follows to make sure she doesn’t die. She’s out for two weeks, fed, cleaned, in and out of consciousness. When she wakes, she’s outside school, shopping, eating, playing games with her ‘friends.’ They call it a vacation, a perk of being close to the academic stars. She never knows what happened. They don’t drop her—they keep her close, integrated, part of the system. Adaukwu, if their ultimate plan was not to deliver you straight to Akachukwu then they befriended you to put you on that bus. One way or the other, virgin or not.”

My heart raced, fear and horror twisting inside me. “Oh no.” I felt another wave of shame hit me.

How desperate was I for friends that I had already walked halfway through the lion’s den?

“Why don’t people know? Why don’t the girls… stop it? Tell someone?”

Abraham’s eyes darkened, his voice low. “The drugs erase memories, they're powerful enough to get their scientists to manufacture these variants that tweak with your mind, but it’s more than that. The system silences. Girls wake up with gifts—cash, clothes, better grades—or threats, like losing their place here, or their families being targeted. Some don’t even know they’re victims; they’re told it’s an honor, a step up. The school’s prestige blinds everyone—parents, teachers, even the girls. Who’d believe a ‘troubled’ student over Lux et Gloria’s legacy? The ones who suspect… they’re too scared to speak. The system’s bigger than Akachukwu, bigger than me. Teachers, prefects, people outside—clients, sponsors, maybe even higher. It’s a machine, and it’s been running for years. I told you, I’m fighting something bigger than Akachukwu, but if I push too hard, Adaukwu, or even derail just the slightest bit by showing any form of weakness, I’m done for. They enjoy that I’m with a junior, and the knowledge that my position is so supreme I’m making seniors have to respect a junior excites them enough to not look closer. It’s enough for them to believe we have depraved sexual intercourse. That I'm taking advantage of you, preying on you as the only man who's ever touched you. They're content with believing you're their doll I'm torturing on their behalf. Right now, everything is still in place.”

I stood, my hands clenched, defiance burning through my fear. “I’m not their doll. I’m not their game. We’ll fight, Abraham. Together.”

He leaned closer, his hand brushing my cheek, his gaze intense, before slowly kissing me. The first of many days. “You’re braver than you know,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “But this fight… is not your own. You just stand on the sidelines where I can safely watch you, and please, don’t keep anything from me anymore.”

I leaned into his touch, my heart pounding, the system’s shadow looming. Akachukwu’s rage, the night buses, the faceless “they” who traded girls like currency—they were coming. I’d chosen Abraham, a not-good man, the Senior Prefect, and now I finally accepted the full reality of what that meant.

“Speaking of that, Sophie and Nnenna are waiting for me in the cafeteria.”

“What?” Abraham said that so sharply, I chuckled.

“They told me not to tell you, but they invited me to study together this night prep.”

“Today is Tuesday,” he quoted my words back, mimicking my voice, and I threw my head back, laughing.

“You know, when you said that, I almost asked if they forbade reading on Tuesdays in your village or somn'. But it all makes sense now. I don’t want you hanging out alone with them, even in public, so stay. Tomorrow, you can tell them we had hot, passionate sex here, and time slipped you by.”

“You know I would never say that.”

“It would be hilarious if you did, though.”

“I’m sure they’d like to hear that. They’ve been pressing about details of our nonexistent sex life so uncomfortably.”

“Well, they’ll eventually figure out I know now. But string them along for as long as you want to. Hell, use them as practice for when your real friends come. Just never be alone with them even in public, okay?” He brought up his pinkie for me.

“Okay,” I crossed mine with his.

"Now, can I please kiss my girlfriend?" He said it as a joke but that his childlike excitement was back, the twinkle in his eyes. I realized when he was like this, he was being his true self. The "responsible" lover boy twin.

Seeing him like this made me sigh softly in delight, because this... This is who I liked, this is what I fell for, the softness behind his protective hard guy act and so with a wide smile, I told him "Yes" and he immediately swooped down on me, claiming my lips.

I liked my boyfriend, all shades of him. I liked Abraham.