Chapter 2: The Price of Refusal

The moment dem abandon me finish, my mind just die—nothing remain. I gather my spiritual power. For person wey dey practice, if you self-destruct, na both body and soul go scatter, no hope at all. I don ready—never again I go get anything to do with those three.

Na as if my spirit waka commot my body. For darkness, nothing dey except the cold memory of betrayal. I for even prefer make thunder strike me than to ever cross path with dem again.

But as I dey fade go, I hear urgent voice drag me back: “My son, people from Palm Grove Sect dey come soon. You get the best gift—abeg, arrange yourself well make dem see you, maybe dem go pick you.”

The voice no be ordinary—it carry all the wahala and hope of parent for this world. The way my papa voice dey tremble, my mama dey wipe sweat for her forehead like person wey just finish early morning farm work. For my mind, na only love and fear mix together dey their face.

I open my eyes, see my papa and mama face dey full of worry. I just dey look everywhere, no believe wetin I dey see. That demon invasion wey be like hell don disappear, all the pain for my body no dey again. Na there I realize—I really don come back to life. Na the very day those three big people from Palm Grove Sect come Okeke family to find new disciples.

Mosquito dey buzz for corner, my mama dey fan me small with old newspaper. As I open eye, na sun wey just dey rise I see for window. E clear say God give me second chance, and this time, na my own hand go decide.

As I remember everything, I just dey shake head, beg: “Papa, mama, I no go go. Abeg, no talk about me. If una must talk, just tell dem say I travel since half month, I no dey house.”

Dem just dey look me as if say na stubborn goat dem dey talk to. My papa wan open mouth, but as I bend pick my slippers and rush enter inside, na only "Kai!" he fit shout.

As I yarn finish, I rush enter my room, pack my load, wan escape. For my last life, my talent too much, so dem all—Aisha, Halima, and Morayo—three senior sisters wey cold like harmattan—pick me join Palm Grove Sect as their only direct junior brother.

E shock me how my life just turn upside down because of one small mistake—trust. Last time, na my pride make me follow, this time, na my sense go lead me.

Everybody envy me, even me sef dey thank God every day. That time, those three dey shine for my eyes, I just dey look up to dem. After dem pick me, people think say my life don better, say I go enjoy love and care. I too happy follow dem go sect.

People for compound dey hail me, dey tap my back, say, "Chijioke, your star don shine o! No forget us!" If dem know wetin I see inside, dem go hold prayer for me instead.

Those senior sisters cold no be small, dem no dey allow anybody near. So I try everything to please dem—any dirty or hard work, na me dey do am, no complain. I believe say if I work hard, dem go accept me.

E get one time, I sweep training ground before day break, cook food, even fetch water from spirit river, all to hear small "thank you." But for where—na like say I dey talk to wall.

But just as I think say dem dey notice me, dem bring another junior brother—Lukman. Unlike me wey need do everything perfect before dem go look my side, Lukman just land, dem begin pamper am, give am everything I dey struggle for since. From that day, dem no even dey see me again, all their attention na for Lukman. Even though dem cold, for am, dem dey smile soft. The three dey rush who go care for am, nobody send me.

Lukman na city boy, smooth skin, mouth sweet. If he sneeze, dem go bring wrapper cover am. Me? I fit cough blood, nobody go even ask. That time, jealousy wan kill me, but I swallow am. After all, na my senior sisters.

If I get problem for training and go meet dem, dem no go even see me, dem go put barrier: “Abeg, no near am—na your junior brother be that.”

I go waka back with long face, my leg heavy like cement. For night, I dey pray, "God, abeg, make dem remember say I still dey here."

I waka commot with pain, begin dey find my way alone, nearly spoil my own training. Because of Lukman, dem begin dey hate me. My room, resources, weapons—dem collect all, give am. If he do small thing, dem go praise am; me, no matter wetin I do, dem no go even look me. I just dey suffer for nothing.

One night, I see my old robe for Lukman body, I wan talk, but Morayo just hiss, "Abeg, no near am—na your junior brother be that." My eyes red that night, sleep no even come.

But dem forget—na me first be their junior brother. Dem promise say dem go protect me forever.

I dey count that promise like rosary—na only hope wey remain for me. But promise for mouth, heart dey somewhere else.

For Lukman third year for sect, to help am get achievement, the three carry am go forbidden bush go fight big spirit beast. But Lukman, because dem dey spoil am, no sabi anything. When wahala burst, instead of help, na so he dey run anyhow, come even attract another spirit beast. The three, wey for fit run, now dey protect am, na so the beast throw dem away, injure dem well.

Spirit beast roar loud, bush dey shake, dem dey drag Lukman like market woman drag goat. Instead of save themselves, dem dey block am, collect wound full body.

As spirit beast wan finish dem, Lukman just run leave dem, no even look back. That time, I dey fight dark charm user wey wan enter sect. As I sense danger, I no dodge, I take the hit, drag my broken body go save dem. In the end, I risk my life kill spirit beast wey strong pass me ten times, rescue dem.

Blood dey pour for my mouth as I land. My leg dey shake, but na only their safety dey my mind. Na so I drag all of dem for ground, spirit power dey fail me, but I no stop.

By then, I don nearly die. After I drag dem commot forbidden bush, I just fall for ground, dey vomit blood. Everybody dey praise me, but those three no even thank me. Instead, dem vex, ask why, since I fit help, I no come quick, say na because of me Lukman dey fear, now dem no see am.

For public, elders dey talk, "Ah, Chijioke, you brave well!" But my own senior sisters just bone face, eye me like say I be curse.

My body just cold, I try explain, dem no gree hear. Dem even talk say maybe na me cause spirit beast wahala because I dey jealous of Lukman—if not, why I go appear just in time?

Na so pain choke me, I wan talk but no word fit come out. My hand dey shake as I try reach Halima, but she just shift.

As dem dey think am, dem vex more, their eyes cold. Next thing, the three pull sword, stab me for chest. Na when Lukman waka come, talk say na luck save am, the three drop sword, rush go care for am, no even look me wey dey ground with three sword for chest.

I see my blood dey soak ground, na only sky dey answer my pain. The three dey cry for Lukman, dey wipe him face, but me, I dey disappear like leaf for dirty gutter—lost and forgotten.

Later, when evil spirits invade, the three protect only their beloved junior brother, leave me. Even for death, dem no look back once.

I dey crawl for ground, dey beg, but dem no hear. Darkness just carry me, na there I know say my own don finish.

Now as I remember, e funny. Because I value their acceptance, I endure everything. I no know say no matter wetin I do, dem no go ever treat me well. Wetin I dey chase?

My heart dey laugh and cry at once. I fit dey foolish before, but now, my eye don clear. No be everybody go value you, no matter your sacrifice.

Who for think say to enter sect go bring suffering, no be better life? The pain of that self-destruction before I reborn still dey my body—e warn me say make I no enter that wahala again. I suppose run far, no let dem catch me. If I no run, na die remain.

My spirit just dey tell me, "No try am again o!" Even my leg begin shake, ready to fly commot before another mistake happen.

As I dey think am, fear catch me. I just drop my load, grab some naira notes, hide am for chest, ready to run. But as I reach main parlour, my papa block me: “To make Palm Grove Sect choose you na big blessing for our family. How you go dey use small excuse take spoil your future, even dey lie give elders?”

Papa stand for door, hand for waist, him wrapper shift small as if he ready drag me go front of the elders by force. For his voice, you go hear both worry and hope. Mama stand back, dey wipe invisible tears for eye, dey nod.

“If na another person, e for no matter. But na only you we get as son—we want make you succeed. You must go.”

Papa voice no dey rise often, but this time, the house quiet so tay you fit hear rat dey bite wood. Him feet firm for ground, no gree move.

Mama too beg: “Yes, Chijioke. No be to enter Palm Grove Sect be your dream? You forget how as pikin you dey talk say you wan be righteous person? Abeg, hear your papa, forget other things.”

She use both hands hold my face, tears dey mix with sweat for her cheek. She hold my hand, her palm cold. For her eye, hope and fear dey mix. She dey try use old memory hold me back. "No let opportunity pass you, my pikin," she whisper.

Palm Grove Sect na big name, everybody wan enter. With my talent and old dream, my parents no go gree let go. Before, even when dem no want me, I go still force myself. But now, I don get second chance. How I go enter again just to suffer for Lukman, come die for nothing?

For this Okeke village, na pride if your pikin enter big sect. If I say no, na disgrace—people fit talk say I get bad spirit. My parents dey use eye beg me, like say na them life dey for my hand.

My parents dey push me, say make I go change, come greet the elders. As I see say if I no run now, I no go fit again, I close eye, use hand dig out my spiritual root, destroy am. Even though my parents no be spiritual people, dem sabi wetin spiritual root mean. Without am, I no fit practice again. My face pale, blood dey flow, dem fear well.

Pain bite me but I no shout—na like say my whole hope for life I dig comot. My parents mouth open, shock hold dem, voice dry like harmattan breeze.

Dem rush come, wan stop the bleeding but dey fear touch me, voice dey shake: “You this pikin, why you go do yourself like this? If you no wan go, no go. Why you wan wound yourself? You dey break our heart.”

Mama hold my face, tears dey fall. Papa just dey stand, hand on head. Dem never see this kind before, their only son dey destroy him own future for their eye.

But no other way. If I no run, na die sure pass. To dig out spiritual root or to suffer and die by self-destruction—I know which better. No time to explain, I just dey beg: “Papa, mama, abeg, make una let me go.”

I dey kneel for floor, blood dey drip on tile, my voice low but sure. For my mind, na only escape I dey see.

As dem see say I fit do worse, dem gree. I bandage myself quick, wan run. But e still late.

My hand dey shake as I tie wrapper over wound, leg dey weak but I push go door. Just as I open, air change, cold breeze enter, I smell something strange—like flower and thunder together.

For outside, three fine women, all wear white like snow, fly land with sword, like say dem be real angels. As dem land, dust rise like harmattan breeze, and the smell of fresh ogiri fill the air. Na those three senior sisters—Aisha, Halima, and Morayo—wey carry me go Palm Grove Sect last life.

Everybody for compound freeze. Even chickens stop to waka. The way dem land—feet no touch ground, sword dey glow—make even elders bow head.

That scene wey before dey make me happy, now be like death sentence. Even as I dey bleed, I no even feel pain again—my body just cold. E be like say, even with second chance... I still no fit escape?

My hand wan drop, leg dey soft, I dey beg for inside my mind, "God, abeg, hide me for inside earth, I no wan go again." But I never know say my wahala just dey start.