For the past two months, she has had the same nightmare.

Every night, a different sequence of

events but with the same ending– rough gravel against her skin, her eyes and mouth open as
she watches faceless men shovel wet, moldy sand on her naked body. And every morning she
wakes up with a start, heaving and coughing to get the sand out of her windpipe. Sometimes,
the coughing fits are so violent they leave scratch marks on her neck, and the taste of earth
lingers in her mouth hours later.

She's never been particular about dreams and their interpretations. She thought of dreams as
the mind's way of entertaining itself without its owner's permission. It didn't matter what forms
they came in, materialized desires, lingering memories, no matter how twisted or ridiculous, she
did not seek to find meaning or clarity because they did not matter.

But this one is different; she feels it in the way her chest constricts every time she thinks about
it. She feels it in the way her subconscious seems to be counting down the days to something
that she cannot identify.

It must be how she dies—naked and buried alive. Angel scoffs, a befitting end to the miserable
curse of a life she's had so far. She had fought so hard to stay alive for nothing, in a life like
hers, there was no respite, not even the comfort she enjoyed as his woman . She looks around
and smiles in fondness at the immaculate white walls that surround her, this house is a respite,
her own safe haven. No, maybe it was worth it. She jumps when she feels the buzzing of the
phone under her pillow, She pulls it out, dread slowing her movements as she looks at the
boldness of the text from Mr Francis

He wants to see you. The driver would be there by 8 p.m.

She sighs in relief. She hasn't seen him in three months. It was always like this, utter silence,
despite the fact that he had given her a phone for easier communication. He'd come, stay for
some time, then disappear like a phantom. Sometimes, she imagines that one day, the text from
Mr Francis will read that the Captain is dead and she needs to vacate the apartment, and she
imagines until she feels the panic of his hypothetical loss spread through her like a sensation.
That is why she welcomes relief every time he makes it known that he's still alive and that he
still wants her.

He isn't just her helper or her life saver; he's her god. It's bigger than the security he's given her,
his attention makes her feel like a person. She's not a piece of meat with a warm hole to bury a
penis into with him, she's a woman. A sensual being worthy of affection and protection. Angel
cares for him in a way she hasn't cared for anybody in her life, and she relishes in the fluttering
excitement that gathers as she gets ready to be taken apart by him. Regardless, its a
vulnerability that frightens her.

She scrubs her skin until it is soft to the touch, then oils and moisturizes it until it is a gleaming,
glistening delight. Before Angel met the captain, she did not see herself. She was told she had
beauty, but she could not see it. How could she? Beautiful things are supposed to be cherished
and treated well, with care and admiration, but nobody treated her like that; instead, they
showed her a wickedness that made her decide she must be hideous to look at. That was the
only way to explain why the soldiers that visited the brothel enjoyed hitting her before they
fucked her. Even Nneka's arrival at the brothel did not do much for her self image. It didn't
matter that she gave her a promotion of some sort by making her one of the exclusive girls, ‘e
no make sense say babe wey fine like you, go dey open leg for skreps’, was what she said to
her. Nneka did not tell her there would be no more hitting, so she didn't expect that the hitting
would stop. But the big men did not need to hit her, they expressed their disgust for her in the
deranged things they did to her. The one who held a knife to her throat as he thrust in and out of
her, seeing the fear in her eyes as the cold,deadly metal dug into her skin, excited him enough
to pay the brothel extra. Her hands subconsciously search for the scar, and she shudders with
her eyes closed tight enough to block out the memory. She shouldn't think about it, the captain
promised her safety, and for a year, it's exactly what she's been

An hour later she looks at her reflection, the black halterneck gown is wrapped tightly around
her curves like a hug. Her natural hair frames her face like a halo, the way he likes it. She jumps
at the first sound of the car horn, reapplies an extra layer of red lipstick, and dashes out the
door. Anticipation and excitement rise within her like a tide, she chastises herself to not let it be
too obvious, not until she sees the captain.

She finds herself wishing he had come to the house instead,she would have cooked beef stew
for him, shown him her garden and the paintings she's been working on, to at least show him
the classes he'd paid for were not for nothing. She would convince him to come to the house, he
hardly ever said no to her. The drive is longer than she expected. She questions whether they
are really that far from the city because the sovereign ruler connected portions of old Kaduna
and Zaria to the FCT after the government was overthrown. Angel shifts a little when she
glances at the time on the dashboard of the car ; 09:45. They've been driving for over an hour,
and with nearly half of the country gone, there aren't many people to compete for road space, so
where the hell is this place that has taken them over an hour to reach? She contemplates
asking the driver, but the captains rules were clear, 'you don't talk to the driver, if you need
anything you talk to me directly or even Mr Francis, but never the driver'

She thought the request was strange then, now it's just inconvenient. They pull up to a gate, and
she sighs, half in relief for her life, the other half in relief for her buttocks. She gasps when they
drive further into the estate, the streetlights accentuate the illusion of a boulevard of trees that
lead further into it, they drive past a couple of small houses, a quaint bungalow that reminds her
of hers

It looks like something from the movies that the captain smuggles in for her. Shes overwhelmed
in the way she often is when face to face with wealth. The house is a magnificent expanse of
white that sparkles even in the dark There are two smaller fountains positioned side by side
that spill into a small marble pool. The driver clears his throat, and she realizes the car has
stopped
"Thank you" she says as she gets down from the unreasonably high SUV. Her legs are a bit
sore from the position they were in in the car, or perhaps it was the pencil-heeled sandals she
chose. With the house right in front of her, anxiety begins to crawl its way into her head. Why did
the captain bring me here? She thinks to herself with a small pinch to the inside of her palm.
Images of the dream flash across her peripheral vision, and she looks around, the land is big
enough to bury her anywhere. She stops in her tracks, she feels a small trickle of sweat make
its way down her sideburns, she cannot escape, even if she wants to

"Ada" she startles at the sound of her name, she doesn't need to question who it is, no other
man knows her name besides him. She would have preferred to gather herself before seeing
him, but she is ambushed and her footing falters as she turns so quickly. He's by her side in the
blink of an eye,

"Careful" his arm holds her up and she's grateful for it, because her feet refuse to accept the
signal her brain sends to it

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, thank you" she straightens, only to be engulfed by his arms, his scent,one she's
committed to memory, fills her nostrils, and familiarity soothes her. She hugs him back with
closed eyes, wishing she could just melt into him

"Ada, let me look at your face" he pulls back and takes her face in his hands. Now she can look
him in the eyes, a thing she couldn't do before because his cold expression often intimidated her
intimidated her

" I missed you" the corner of his eyes crinkle as a smile lights up his face, it sends the butterflies
in her lower belly into a frenzy, she leans into the heady feeling just a bit more, she places a kiss
on his lips and he chuckles in surprise

"Ha! Ada, is it hard being alone?" Not really, she enjoys it

"Don't worry, we're here, so you won't be for much longer" Her heart skips a beat, but she is
wired not to expect so as not to feel disappointed. She does not tell him that she notices the
heaviness of his eyes, even though she wants to ask, wants to know how hes been.
"Where are we?" She asks, her eyes fixed on the imposing building they're slowly walking
towards

‘’Alhaji Danjuma's mansion’’

‘’What?!’’ she stops abruptly, and he stops too,he turns to her with a somber expression, if she
had any doubts before, it is now clear that something was off. He holds her hand up, his thumb
gently draws a line across her knuckles, lets out a sigh, and looks into her eyes, She feels her
stomach start to sink before he begins to talk

‘’Ada, something really important is going to happen tonight, and I've put you in the center of it,
and I'm terribly sorry, but I promised to keep you safe and i will’’

RUN!

Her mind repeatedly screams at her, but her hands are clammy and her tongue is heavy in her
mouth so she says nothing and follows him into the mansion. The ringing in her ears is louder
than the click-clack sound of her shoes against the marble floors. The further they walk into the
mansion, the tighter the knots in her stomach get; she can barely breathe but her hand is still
firmly held in his. Shes being led to her slaughter. He comes to a halt in front of a white door;
she is too preoccupied with closing in on herself to notice how they arrived; he walks, and she
follows. He turns to her again, his expression free of whatever conflictions that had caused him
to look at her with such sadness,

‘’Do you trust me?’’ She looks at the hard lines of his face,tries to recall the worst moments of
her life, the feeling of Nneka's blood pooling at her feet as she watched a crazed officer
repeatedly stab into her chest. Yes, the trickle of warm urine down her legs had been a clear
sign of fear, too crippling to ignore. In comparison, the feeling of the knots digging deep into her
insides is nothing like what she felt that day.

‘’Ada’’ he says, waiting for her response with a calmness that she wishes would seep into her

‘’Yes’’ she nods, her head moving so quickly she believes it, she must believe it. He gives her
hand a squeeze and a nod of his own before he knocks.

She holds her breath as the door opens to reveal a muscular young man she immediately
assumes must be security. In the center of the room stands Alhaji Danjuma, a smile lights up his
face once he sees them, an almost relieved smile, like he's been waiting for them, waiting for
her. It makes her curious; something really important is going to happen tonight, and I've put you
in the center of it. They need her for something, it's apparent in his sharp strides toward them
and the keen way he keeps his eyes on her

‘’ Femi wasn't joking when he called you gorgeous. Welcome, what is your name?’’She takes his
outstretched hand with hesitation, the captain had told him she was beautiful, but didn't tell him
her name.

''Angel,'' she says,

''your real name,"' she turns to the captain to ask permission, and he nods. Alhaji Danjuma
chuckles at their little exchange,

"Adanne Orji." It might be her real name, but it's hardly a part of her identity, it only sounds like
her name when the captain says it

‘’How old are you?’’ she shifts, wincing lightly as her fingernails dig a bit too deeply into an old
scab

“19’’

"How old were you when you were taken?" That's right, the brothel stole many of the girls from
their homes,

‘’I was born there. When i was five, one day my mother left and never came back’’ She feels the
captain's hand tighten in hers, and that's when she realizes he still has her hand in his

‘’And how old were you when your innocence was taken from you?’’

‘’Alhaji,” the captain says quietly, She's grateful for his attempt, maybe this is what he meant
when he said he would protect her, but there was no protection from her own past

‘’I uh_ I started giving handjobs and blowjobs two years after my mother disappeared but they
didn't let me have sex till i was fourteen’’

‘’Let? Do you think they did you a favor?’’ she scoffs. A favor, she was beaten and raped until
she passed out from the excruciating pain, would anybody call that a favor?

‘’No, although maybe It was easier to come to terms with being raped then, i wouldnt have
understood it at seven.”

‘’Good. If I made you uncomfortable, I apologize. I needed to see if you had lost as much as we
all have. Did Femi tell you he brought you here?” Finally, they were getting to it even though
she doubts a man like the alhaji could lose anything. She shook her head in the negative,
slipping her hand from his to fold under her breasts

‘’I told him not to. I wanted to see you and make sure that you were bold enough, and I think you
are. You might not have been born then, but I think you're a person who values freedom, I
haven't missed the way you look at him. Without needing to make too many assumptions, I can
tell the affection you feel for him must stem from the small freedom he's given you. What would
you do if i told you there was a way to be completely free, a way to not belong to anybody, to
live freely as a young individual without the fear of being taken by anyone’’ she scoffs, unless
this man's plans involve smuggling her out of the country, how does he intend to do that? it's not
like she's never contemplated escape, but she'd heard about the punishment for girls who tried
and failed, and she decided she didn't plan on finding out if they were rumors or not.

‘’You don't believe me,” he says it like an accusation, and she flinches a bit at how menacing his
expression becomes without the patronizing smile he'd kept plastered on it as he interrogated
her. He walks away, and she turns to the captain, pleading with him with her eyes to tell her
what the fuck was going on, he pats on her shoulder, a gesture that says ‘calm down’. It annoys
her. Alhaji Danjuma walks back to the both of them, she's surprised by how light on his feet he
is, for someone so old. He hands her the photographs in his hands. In the first image, a little boy
and a little girl are the focus of the image. They look happy, but what strikes her is how normal
everyone scattered around in the small frame looks—no grayness, no guns in sight. The second
image is of the busiest street shes ever seen, even though she's not seen many streets in her
life, its so full of people she can almost feel the bodies around her, her eyes focus on a young
girl who looks to be around her age with her braids flowing down her back and her phone in her
hands, her body reacts to the picture in a weird way, she doesn't know any of the people in the
picture, doesn't even know where it is but she feels a sense of longing

‘’That used to be a bridge in Ikeja, the former capital of what used to be our greatest city. Its
such a pity you will never get to experience what it means to be a free Nigerian. Our country
was far from perfect, but it had color and texture, and there had been hope for a long time
because we still held on to the beauty of democracy. But we learned the hard way that hope is
never enough, not in the face of corruption, a rotten system, and irrational hate. Our country
was taken from us by an undeserving madman. A self serving runt who was determined to live
out his fantasy of being king and kingmaker. Looking back, I should have done more, I had the
resources to. It might not have been much, but maybe—just maybe it would have done
something, but I didn't, and here we are, prisoners in our own land. The military, which we
thought had been subdued by corruption, was only biding its time, waiting patiently to overthrow
the civilian government. I and some other elites were warned to pick a side. All these years i've
lived with the guilt of picking the wrong side, but maybe this was God's plan, to keep me so i
could save my beloved country from the beast that have ravaged it into destruction.” She
remembers Madam Yinka's stories of old Nigeria, of her hometown in Ibadan and the dusty air
that never seemed to settle except when the rains came. But it was hard to feel nostalgia for a
time and a place she didn't experience.

‘’What does this have to do with me? Why have you brought me here?’’ she turns to the captain
for an answer

‘’We want you to kill the commander general’’ Her eyes move slowly from the captain's face to
Alhaji Danjumas. The words kill and commander general register in her brain, and a cackle so
loud it startles her erupts out of her. Who should kill who?
 "Is this your way of telling me you don't want me anymore?" You could dump me on the road
somewhere, i'll be in the nearest state brothel before the night ends, it'll be better than playing a
prank like this..”She calls it a prank,but she can see from the look of pain on the captain's face
that it is not a prank. Alhaji Danjuma's chuckle sends a spark of fiery anger through her

“Foolish girl. You would rather be passed around those animals to be raped and violated for the
rest of your life than take your chance at freedom?’’

‘’Stop throwing that word around! You're asking me to throw my life away for the illusion of a
past that I was never a part of. Freedom? What's that going to do for me when they kill me!” ,

“No, Ada, listen to me. Not for the pat, but for the future, for our future. He's going to give us a
lot of money and safe passage to Ghana; we'll settle in nicely, start our own family, and never
have to return to this dreadful plac. .I'm tired,Ada, of this perpetual fear for my life, of the fear
that i wouldn't see you againI'm sickck of living with death in my face, death that i cause. All that
blood, its weighing me down and I'm exhausted. I hate that i have to ask this of you but i don't
trust anybody else with my life, only you’’ She closes her eyes as she welcomes the
captain's breath on her face. The love she feels for him spreads through her like wildfire as his
breath fans her shut eyelids, and the feel of his cold, clammy palms holds her face to his, the
smoke it leaves in its wake, clouding her ability to think. He looks sad, his eyes weary and
watery, its too much for her to bear

‘’ Do i have the option of refusing?’’ she knows the answer to that question, bust she cant help
but ask

“What do you want me to do?’’ She's grateful that the captain does not let go of her, the new set of
footsteps draws her attention. She looks up to see a female officer with a small briefcase the
color of metallic silver, she opens it, and the alhaji takes the tiny vial from the black velvety
cushion it rests on

“The rest of the world has made beautiful progress, in medicine, technology, and science,
and here we are, stuck in a cycle of redundancy and stagnation... This is your weapon, you
empty it into his glass after the security tastings have been completed, and ensure he drinks
it, it takes only a minute to work, once its done and we're sure he's dead, Zainab would get
you out of the villa, where i assume Femi will be waiting for you.’’ Slipping poison into a drink
is a lot simpler than what she feared. As weak as she is, she can handle poisoning.

“I’ll do it’’ she says, clinging to the farce of choice.

“Do this successfully, and I will make sure the both of you never lack again, you will be
unsung heroes of the new order," she scoffs. He hides it well, but she can see his true
intentions. To the Alhaji, the military is of no use anymore, so it is time for them to go
“We have a thirty minute window, the captain will take you there, Zainab will lead you into the
general's room as his entertainment for the night. Good luck Ada,succeed for all our sakes’’

The captain takes her hand and just like before, she's pulled out into uncertainty as they
make their way out of the mansion. She has questions, but her mind is a spinning wheel.
She turns back to their new companion, Zainab, and wonders if Zainab too, like the captain,
is exhausted and wants to escape.

Angel appreciates the silence in the car, is grateful for the anchor of her hand in the captains
and his shoulder pressing to hers. She thinks about tomorrow, would she be in Ghana with
the captain? Would her body be cold and mangled up in the sand like her dreams tell her, any
outcome, as long as it has the captain right beside her, she would welcome it

“This Ghana, what is it like?”

“I don't know, I visited once, a long time ago, too long to remember.”

“What will happen to my tomatoes?" I wanted to use them to cook stew for you” he smiles at
her and she lets out the tears she's been holding onto. She's afraid, she feels it wrack her
nerves as she holds onto the captain's hands like a lifeline

“My love, when its over, we could plant enough tomatoes to feed a battalion. he kisses a tear
away from her eyelid,

“We are here” no, its too soon, they drive into another gaited property, almost like Alhaji
Danjuma’s. They closer they get to the mansion in the middle, the deeper the gut wrenching
fear consumes her

‘’Please dry your eyes, it would raise suspicions,” Zainab says, The captain wipes it for her, a
vision of calm. No sign of the tornado of fear rippling through her insides, was he not afraid
for her

“It's okay to be frightened, the general is a dangerous man, but don't be too frightened; to
him, you do not pose a single threat. Use that to your advantage, do what you must to
complete the mission. You can do this Ada, i have faith in you” Faith, it would not be of much
use to her

“Tell me you love me” his expression falters, the car stops moving and she waits to hear
those words, hes never said them to her. Its not enough to trust her with his life, she needs to
know that the depth of her love is just as deep as hers,

“Come out’’ she hears Zainab say, but she stays put. Shell stay put for as long as it takes him
to say those words to her
“I love you Ada, come back to me’’ she nods , she will come back to him. If killing the
most powerful man in the country is what it would take to be happy with the captain then she
would do it.

With one last quick kiss, she says goodbye to the captain. She turns to find Zainab glaring at
her

“You are not here for a love getaway, we get in there a minute later than we should and this
entire operation could be put in jeopardy! You think it ends at killing the general? Within an
hour, every major army personnel and service chief would be killed, we don't have time for
melodramatic goodbyes” Angel shudders as she takes in the information,Zainab does not
give her room to respond, simply hands her the velvet pouch that contains the poison and
marches ahead of her, something really important is going to happen tonight…and i've put
you in the center of it. She had figured that assassinating the general meant power was going
to change hands, but to hear the extent of their plans set off a different kind of panic within
her. Angel notices them now, the soldiers positioned all around the villa. She walks faster, the
sound of her footsteps make her feel like she's running. She's stunned by how bereft of life
the inside of the villa looks, besides the armed guards littered around the hallway Zainab
takes her through. They enter an elevator and maybe it's the enclosed space but she can
hear how labored her breathing is, her feet feel sweaty confined in her shoes

“Breathe’’ the older woman says to her, she nods, she can breathe. In, out. In, out . The ding
of the elevator disrupts her breathing,ands she flinches at the sound. Zainab steps out and
she tries to follow but her feet would not move,

“We have gone past the time for hesitation and second thoughts’’ Angel nods, agreeing with
a little too much vigor. There's a weird pinching sensation in her toes but it does not keep her
from walking and it would not stop her from doing what she's been brought here to do. The
gray door they stop in front of looks haunting enough to gulp. Watching the door open to
Zainab's voice, she wonders just how close Zainab is to the general. In a way, belonging to
the state shielded her from a different type of suffering. She heard about how the people
were forced into public posts, education beyond secondary level was scrapped for people
who refused to join the military,the dissolution of the states had come with terrible suffering
and death…She would not be taking a life, she would be doing the people of New Nigeria a
favor. The thought gives her boldness, the image of the girl in the picture Danjuma showed
her fuels her with determination and grief, grief for the girl she could have been and
determination to end the cycle

“Zainab '' she resists the urge to raise her head, remembering the protocol she had to follow.
They weren't allowed to raise their heads unless they were asked to, and even then they
couldn't look the officer in the eyes

“Where did you bring this one from?”

“The pleasure house in Wuse zone 10, sir”
“Are we not feeding them too well, look at all this flesh” he grips her left breast and tugs at it,
she flinches at the sharp pain it sends down her spine.

“Let me see your face. Wow” his fingers feel cold against her chin as he holds it up, she looks
him in the eye and he smiles, a sleazy smile that makes her skin crawl. It changes his face
from non threatening to disgusting, and it makes her want to hide

“Leave us, Zainab,” he says, and she turns her head to watch Zainab leave, but his hands
keep her face prisoner.

“You're a bold one. How old are you?”

"19, sir” he hums, tracing his hands down the center of her body, She fears for the vial safely
placed in her bra.

“Is that why you think you can look me in the eye without my permission?” He says with a
hard slap to her crotch area, She shudders, and he chuckles, pleased with her reaction,
She's met his type before, the type that liked to intimidate before they fuck

“I'm sorry,” his eyes widen in surprise, and he chuckles. It is just like the captain said, to him,
she was not a threat, she could either play the part of the sultry headstrong seductress or the
scared little girl, For men like him, the pleasure is in the perception of breaking, and even
though the sultry headstrong seductress is more likely to get her slapped in the face, it's also
the only way she could have enough room to slip the poison into his drink, drinks! She
hurriedly looks around for signs of alcohol, but the room is too sparsely lit. He walks back in
with a small ceramic ashtray, a bottle of whiskey and a small bag. Her eyes remain on the
bottle of whiskey as he drops the items on the ottoman in front of the bed

“Take off your clothes,” he says. Her heart thumps hard against her chest, as though it were
looking for a way to escape. Taking off her dress is the easy part, letting the bra slip without
the vial falling out is the part that threatens it all,

She decides distracting him is the best option, She looks him in the eye as her hands slowly
work their way to her back, relieved that he maintains eye contact, slowly she takes off the
bra, cushioning the vial between the padded cups of her bra and bending a bit to lower it onto
the ground. She hears a grunt and before she can straighten properly to see him charge
towards her, she's dragged to the ottoman and is tossed to the bed. Too far from the vial is
the first thing that occurs to her,it is not until she feels his presence that she begins to fret.
She yelps when she feels his hands tug on her panties, ripping the cotton material apart.
Panic sets her off and she scrambles to escape, shes not prepared for how easily he flips her
around and punches her in the side of her face. She's dizzy by the time she hits the bed
again. His weight presses her into the bed, of course hes no different from the other soldiers,
hes the mastermind behind the state pleasure houses. She gags when she feels the cool
slimy liquid of his precum on her thigh. She screams as he thrusts into her, the pain
excruciating, no matter how many times it happens, the pain does not feel any less soul
wrenching. She should have known, he and his other rapist beasts forcefully took young
women from their families to turn them into sex slaves, none of them deserve to live.She
kicks and struggles, even as he rapes her, he laughs and repositions himself, dragging her
closer to him in the process. Bile rises in her throat, the helplessness of her situation stirs a
hate so deep she feels the potency of it on her tongue. All her life, men have done nothing
but take fragments of her innocence and her spirit and he is to blame. This ugly, murderous,
beast of a man has been hurting her all her life! He cannot win. She will not let him. Without
thinking much about it, she stretches to reach for the ashtray in her sight, she grips it and
with all the strength she can muster, swings it across his face. She shrieks in pain as the
penis inside her is forced out, but she realizes that her hit caused him to lose his footing. She
swings again, with even more force and this time he falls to the floor. Her nose itches, the
white powder the ashtray contained now scattered in the air and on the soft carpet

“Zainab!’’ the venom in his voice scares her enough to distract her from the hand on her leg,
pulling her down, on her way down she reaches for the whiskey bottle and screams as she
brings it down on his head, not enough to break but its enough to make him lose the grip on
her leg. She hits him again and this time the bottle shatters, a large piece of it pressing into
her hand with the impact but she can barely feel any pain

She sees her chance and she takes it, she scrambles away, her breath heavy, adrenaline
pumping through her veins as she releases the vial from its hiding place. I can do it, she
repeats in her head like a mantra as she makes her way back to him. Weak and bloody, he
groans where he lays on the carpet, his blood spilling into the carpet, with one knee on his
chest, her entire weight crushing into it; a move she learned from the captain, she opens the
vial

“For Nneka” she says before emptying the contents into his mouth, shes done it. Watching
him splutter and try to spit the poison out emboldens her even more, she holds his nostrils
and presses more of her weight, with any luck, shed crush his rib cage but shes focussed on
ensuring he at least swallows the poison. She feels a sharp pain eat into her side, she wails
when she sees a thick shard of glass sticking out from her body

“Zain_help” she looks over to the dying man, she did it, the captain said she could and she
did . The captain also said to come back to her, she needs to go to him. Her legs wont move,
she can feel her oil draining from the deep wound on her side. Again, she sees the girl in the
picture, but this time, her mind conjures an image of her in the colorful clothes, fighting her
way through bodies, making her way to the unknown. She could not have it, but at least the
state pleasure houses would be no more. No girl would ever have to feel like a property.
Alhaji was right, she is an unsung hero. She closes her eyes, hoping that Zainab finds her
first
“Ada!’’