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imightnotexist:
THE END

imightnotexist:
What followed was a loud laugh from Amaka. It seemed very well that I was being played for a fool. I scratched my head in confusion, wondering how best to begin my angry rant. “Clara broke her waist. Only God knows what the Aboki put inside his dick”. The confusion vanished in an instance, but it just left me with more questions. But it just left with more questions. I was there that night. And as much as the old man was putting all his effort, there was no way in hell Amaka could’ve gotten any waist strain from the romp. In the long pause between my next reply I struggled hard to fir these pieces together. Maybe Amaka was in on the whole thing and was trying to feign ignorance. Maybe Amaka was not in any of it, and Clara was trying to save face. I sighed heavily before I began “Amaka. I don’t know your end game or whatever it is you were trying to do. Bleep, I don’t even know if you’re in on this whole thing.” The cracks in my voice were starting to get louder. I think I was going to cry without even knowing it. I guess the disconnect with my emotions were getting ever wider as the days went by.

“So, this is how you were going to get back at me by trying to blackmail me. I have the video recording from Clara’s phone. Maybe her waist isn’t going to be the only thing that gets broken” My voice was finally starting to get back and the tone became a lot angrier as past memories triggered my emotions even more. “What did I ever do to you! I’ve never stolen from you or disrespected. And this is how you treat me. A sext ape really?” “Amaka wetin I ever do you for this life. You give me meat chop come put stone inside. Amaka the kind thunder wey go faya you eeeh” Amaka refused to interrupt me as I rambled on an on. Truth be told, I wanted to get interrupted. I wanted an explanation no matter how stupid. I didn’t want to have to interpret these events in my head as it was driving me crazy. I stopped and breathed in heavily. I was waiting for a reply. Guess she was hoping that I would continue ranting as she refused to speak. A few more seconds of silence and I forced a reply.
“So what do you have to say for yourself!” The big reply finally came “Babe. Babe. Calm down. I didn’t want to tell you everything because I was not sure if you’ll be part of my team”

My intuition was freaking right! Amaka was the kingpin in this scheme as Clara was barely just a pawn in this game. But the bigger question was now simply what her motives were. Why in the devil’s name would a prostitute want to blackmail another prostitute with a sex tape. “The recording wasn’t about you. In fact I don’t know why that useless girl settled for a party knowing that you’re not part of the operation. But babe please before I continue. I beg you in the name of any god wey you dey worship. Abeg! Nor let that video leak” Things were finally starting to get interesting.

Amaka had something to lose and this wasn’t about me. I hadn’t even watched the video at that point. “See eh babe! Sometimes you have to go the extra mile in this game. If na by who Bleep pass, then all those local babes for overhead bridge go don build house tay tay” I didn’t like where this was going. I had fromed very dark conclusions in my mind, but I prayed silently that this was leading somewhere else.

Amaka paused for a short while. I guess she was trying to frame her answer in the best possible way. “I use the video to extract more money and time from these old men. I also use my spiritual fortification to press them weeeeelll” I wasn’t too shocked. Her previous sentence had led me to this scary conclusion. Blackmail all over again. I was tired of this dark cloud following me all around. Blackmail was the reason Sandra went six feet under. Blackmail was the reason why James was going to stand for a murder trial. And now the circle was almost complete with blackmail on the verge of ruining my life.

But on the bright side, I was right. The whole spiritual fortification story was pure bullshit. Amaka was running her own prostitution ring with the powerful weapon of blackmail. I wonder how much those poor old bastards had parted with in order to avoid the public humiliation. No wonder she could afford to cruise around town with an expensive SUV. “Wow. Just wow! And you didn’t tell me this becauuuuse?.. infact, don’t tell me more. I have heard enough” I sounded a bit delirious. I guess my head still hurt from the previous night of drug induced escape. “I understand. Babe let me come to Lagos so we can sort thing out. This is a simple old trick in the book. It’s not like I’m killing people and cutting their head off” I hung up as she finished the sentence.

The Alarm bells in my head went off. Come to Lagos? How stupid did this bitch think I was? What if she tried to use the Police or even thugs to get me and extract the evidence? There was no way in hell I would allow that to happen. I wasn’t going to use the video for anything. Or maybe I was? Now I had more pressing Issues. It seemed the pains in my head had beyond a headache and it was time to head to the hospital.
I used the same hospital from my days back at DeBallers. Surprisingly, it was upscale hospital with very nice facilities. The story with the hospital began with a rape incident back at the lounge. It wasn’t my first, and it wouldn’t be last one either. It was one of the bartenders. It was a slow afternoon and the girls who were around either just hung around the open space or in the rooms. Efosa wasn’t around that day so I just lay in one of the rooms alone staring at the blank space. It wasn’t a moment of peace or anything. I wasn’t even trying to process my emotions. I just lay there, waiting for time to pass so I could start the night’s work. I hated myself so much, and even then the marijuana was never enough for full mental escape from my realities. I barely talked to the other girls. They were too quick to get into squabbles and I was never in the mood for much trouble.

The bartender was new. He was new to the position, but not new to DeBallers. He was something a hustler, trying to get naïve men the “best” girls for a little tip. The girls would throw a little tip from time to time in order to join the list of the “best” girls. I was one of his “best” girls a couple of times, but I never gave him any tip for his kind service. To hell with him, I always thought. He got his money, and I got mine. I didn’t beg him for it. His elevation to bartender status was a big boost for him. He became something of a general overseeing love-vendor. Now he could “recommend” girls to all the men who came in for a good time. No longer just naïve men, even veteran prostitute patrons. Most of the girls sucked up to him now, and cash wasn’t his only compensation. Sex was now on the menu. And not long after it became both. To get customers from Shogo, that was his name, you had to tip him, and the Bleep him also. Even with his newly elevated status, I still didn’t care too much. If Efosa could hold out on her own, so could I!

Soon enough the snide remarks began. “You eh! You think you’re too big for uncle Shogo. You and that you big aunty” Each remark followed with a sinister laugh. Turns out, men irrespective of their background just want their soft ego stroked. I was barely aware of psychological dynamics back then. Maybe it took all the pain and misfortune to bring me out of the auto play mode of life. As I continued staring into the blankness of space, I heard a loud knock on the door. I never liked to leave a door open. Maybe it was just psychological reflex from continuous sexual assault. I opened the door, and it was Shogo. “Yes?” I asked standing at Akimbo. “It is me you’re asking yes abi?” I quickly produced a half assed apology, but I guess he was having none of It. In the twinkle of an eye, he pushed me inside and bolted the door behind us. It was futile struggling as the place was relatively empty and Shogo was a fairly built man. In a few minutes it was over and I just continued laying there as he shifted my gown back down. I could’ve cried but I guess I was just out of tears at that point in my life.

Shogo buckled his belt, turned looked at me and smiled. “So this is what you have been hiding from me since” He left the room, clamming the door behind him with much swagger. I really wished Efosa was around. It was around that time she started planning her exit. She didn’t tell me any of her plans. I never told her about the incident or any other ones that happened. She has her own crosses to bear, and this was mine. Two months later, the bad news dropped. I was pregnant. It had to be from the Shogo incident. I was very careful with clients and couldn’t have made any rookie mistakes. All the horror stories of abortions I heard were all the more terrifying. I didn’t want to have a wireframe stuck into my vagina, and a fetus dragged out. I finally broke the news to Efosa and she sprang up from the bed where she was laying. She started dressing up and beckoned me to follow suit. Apparently she knew a relatively unknown program that helped young girls in the street get safe abortions. The program was run by one of the co-founders of the St. Richard hospital. She was an American returnee risking jail time by providing safe abortions to young women. I guess Efosa had needed one herself. How else would she have known the place and the program? A few weeks later and the pregnancy was safely terminated. Efosa signed me up for a card in the hospital, and my journey with them began.

The drive to the hospital was draining as I had trouble concentrating on the road. My vision was unclear and my hand were unsteady on the steering wheel. I tied a scarf to cover the scar from the cut I had given myself. It was the first time I was visiting the hospital with my own car. I felt a fleeting moment of pride seeing how far I had come since the first time I was here for an abortion. The Hospital parking lot was filled to brim. I was a mid-morning on a weekday. What could the rush possibly be. Turns out it was immunization day and a lot of new mothers had come to get their babies immunized. I wondered if I would be able to see a doctor. I sat down amidst all the wailing, crying, and laughter outbursts of new born infants. And it was the last thing I remembered before I blacked out. Much to the horror of the new mothers, I collapsed in the hospital waiting area.