I stared at her, almost unblinking for a full thirteen minutes before her eyelids fluttered open. She was still groggy from the drug-induced sleep she was waking up from; and as she squinted her eyes, trying to focus her vision on a particular object, I let out a satisfied chuckle. I definitely had her where I wanted her to be.

She shook her head, trying to clear her eyes off the sleep and immediately she saw me, her mouth unconsciously formed an "O" of abject terror. Her eyes roamed her body and darted about the room, as she tried to make sense of the whole situation. I kept on staring at her face, the varied expressions she gave giving me untold pleasures, more pleasures than she had given me all these months.

My smile was still fixed in place as she finally broke the silence. "Chike, w–what—what is going—?"

"You're tied to a chair, that's what is going on," I said, snaking my fingers up her arm. She recoiled from my touch, but that only made me smile.

"Wh–why?"

"Seriously?" I asked in mock indignation. "You really don't know what you did?"

She shook her head, but as she saw the cold anger in my eyes, realization dawned on her. Her eyes widened in fear, as she began to plead with me. "Oh no, no, no. Please Chike, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

In the hot and humid abandoned factory room, which was located in the middle of the city, I sighed; memories came rushing back like the waves of a tsunami. I was helpless against them, and as each regrettable action from my past replayed in my head, I balled my fists tighter, until my knuckles started hurting.

"Sweet Nnenna, I think you have misused the word "Sorry" so much. And now I want you to apologize to "Sorry" now," I commanded.

She looked at me and saw that I wasn't joking, and as she said, "I'm sorry, Sorry," I slapped her so hard that her lips cracked open. Her whimpers of pain were like pleasurable music to my ears.

"Good job, girl," I commended her. "Well, since you already know why you're here, don't you think it's courteous for us to let this factory that we are disturbing this afternoon know why we are having this noisy meeting here?"

"Y–es," she replied, her split lip dripped more blood as she spoke.

"Nice one girl," I said. "Hello Factory!" I spread my arms wide and turned in a circle, "please we're sorry for the inconvenience, but I beg you to listen to me. Afterwards you will understand why this meeting is holding here."

Then I began talking, more to the empty room than to either of us.

I'd known and had been in love with Nnenna since 2010. That was when I was still in my third year in the university. We had dated for a tumultuous ten months, after which she unceremoniously broke up with me, telling me that she needed direction in her life. I'd been devastated then, and it showed in my results at the end of my time in the university. I'd been a first class student before I met her, but after we were done, I graduated with a second class lower with a CGPA of 3.12.

Life after school was a tough battle, and I fought hard enough to make a life for myself after I had nearly ruined my future. I managed to set up a football viewing center in 2012 in Awka, Anambra State, Nigeria. As God would have it, within two and half years, I'd gotten enough money to open three cinemas in Anambra—one in Awka, another in Onitsha and the other in Nnewi.

It was during the premier of one of the most popular movies of 2014 in Nigeria that I met another girl who would change my life (at least for a short time). Her name was Bisola, a Yoruba beauty. After the movie, we stayed in touch and three months later, our relationship kicked off. We dated for four years (she was still in her second year in the university then, and still had three more years, as her course was a five-year one).

So in 2018, after her NYSC program, I proposed to her. I was so happy when she said her yes, and preparations for the wedding went in full swing. We'd decided not to waste time and had scheduled the wedding to hold four months after our engagement party.

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https://www.thezenpens.com/2019/12/01/chained-to-a-heart/