Chapter 6: Wrapper Tear, Spirit Fear

I jump fence enter Oba’s son palace, find Ijeoma for side hall.

Our wrapper tear for fence, but hunger no dey allow shame. Palace guard nearly catch me, but hunger and fear strong pass dem.

She dey sit for ground, dey cry.

Her cry no be small pikin cry—na real woman tears. Her hair scatter, her face swell.

I pat her. "Babe, everybody don go, who you dey act for?"

I try form strong, but my own heart dey bleed too. Sometimes you go just wan cry with person.

Lu Ijeoma cry louder, point one side.

Her finger dey shake. Her voice dey crack.

Big eyeballs dey float for air, red like pepper—spirit wahala no dey finish.

I see am! The eyes big pass yam, just dey roll like spirit. Fear catch me.

Ah! I know say Oba’s son get wahala, but this one pass my power.

Oba’s son wahala na senior brother to all wahala. This one na new level.

E leave him eye dey watch Ijeoma twenty-four seven!

No privacy! For this palace, even toilet no safe again.

I hug her, begin cry too. "Ijeoma! Our life don spoil finish, all these men na real wahala..."

As I hug her, my own tears join. Palace cold, but our sorrow hot.

Then I whisper for her ear, "Ijeoma, I feel say Musa wan kill me."

My voice low, but the pain heavy. For this world, na only Ijeoma dey hear my cry.

Ijeoma shake, whisper back, "Tunde wan lock me for house. That one no well."

Her voice crack. Both of us dey reason our future. No hope anywhere.

"So na only one road remain."

I look her, she look me. Inside our eye, na the same story—escape or die.

"To kpai."

We just look each other—no need talk, we understand.

Our mind connect, no word fit explain the pain.

Morayo and Ijeoma share a quick, silent handshake—coded street sign. Our bond deep, wahala no fit break am.