Chapter 2: Fire Phoenix and Village Secrets

Me, I just dey do my work, dey tattoo customers for my small shop near the market.

My shop dey close to Mama Ejima pepper stall. Na small kiosk with two benches, poster of black panther and Super Eagles for wall. Sometimes, I dey play loud Fela music, scent of fried akara from Mama Ejima stall dey enter shop. I dey catch breeze as I dey draw.

I no even know how long I don dey busy, na so the door fly open.

No time to hide my tools, I just dey clean ink when I hear quick footsteps. People dey run for market all the time, but this one loud. Door push open, sunlight follow am enter.

Little Butterfly waka enter.

Her face dey shine, hair packed well, even though her cloth no too fine. Her eye dey bright, like say she get secret joy. I just nod, greet her, "Sisi, you don come again?"

I sabi say she go soon remove her cloth.

Na routine. She dey always forget say she get tattoo, so every time, na fresh surprise. I dey ready my mind.

I tell my customer make e shift small.

The man wey I dey tattoo—one aboki with tribal mark—just commot bench, dey look her, dey smile. I wave am make e respect himself.

Little Butterfly turn back, comot her shirt.

Her back fair, smooth, but for the middle, phoenix wey I draw dey burn. The color red and gold, sharp for her skin. Even my customer open mouth, "Kai! This design na correct!"

For her back, one fine fire phoenix dey shine, as e dey rise from fire.

E dey like say the tattoo dey move for her skin. Light from window dey touch am, e just dey glow.

And for the phoenix body, my name dey there.

I hide my face small. The letters small, but clear—"Obinna"—na my handiwork.

She talk, "As I dey baff, I just see this tattoo, but I no remember say I do tattoo before. Na you do am for me?"

Her voice soft, almost like whisper. She dey look me with innocent eyes, like say she dey ask for the first time.

I say, "Na me do am."

I smile small, wipe hand for trousers. For her mind, everything na new story. I no fit tire to answer her.

She blush, quiet ask, "Why I go do tattoo? Why e come be your name?"

She rub her back, like say if she press am, she fit remember. Her ear red, she dey shy. Na the only time I dey see her blush like this.

I just sigh, carry her go my bedroom.

I wave my customer, "Abeg, hold on." Little Butterfly dey fear small, but she trust me. I open curtain, show her small bed, wall clock, and big table full of ink.

She begin fear small as I open drawer, bring out one diary give her.

The diary old, cover dirty, but I keep am inside nylon bag. She touch the cover, hesitate, then open am with trembling hand. I carry am come, give her with two hands.

She open the diary, the smile for her face just freeze.

She dey flip page by page, her hand begin shake. She no fit believe wetin she dey see. She dey breathe heavy, chest dey rise and fall, like person wey just finish race. Her eye wide like person wey see masquerade for night.

I waka comot, close the door for her back.

I no wan see her cry, so I just bone, lock door gentle. My heart dey cut, but I gats give her space.

No too long, I hear cry wey dey tear person heart from the room.

E loud, e raw, e dey shake the whole house. Even my customer for shop quiet, look me with question for eye.

Na her diary.

The thing full with handwriting, full page, no space. She write about her pain, her wahala, everything. E be like say her spirit dey inside the paper.

E write everything wey she don suffer since that accident.

Every line dey sharp, dey draw blood from paper. You fit see where tear drop stain page. She write date, time, every person wey do am bad.

She write every word as if she dey carve am for her heart, her hand strong reach to tear the paper.

Some part she press biro till e nearly tear page. The words dey heavy—no be small story.

I open door, see her sit down for ground, dey cry so till she no fit breathe.

She curl up for floor, chest dey shake, sweat full her face. Diary dey her hand, but she no fit hold am tight again.

I talk, "One time after dem do you bad, you come beg me make I call police. I no gree. Because more than half of the men for village don do you bad. If I try help you, dem go kill my whole family. I no wan carry my papa and mama run comot from our land because of you, no fit ever come back."

I sit for floor, back lean wall. My voice low, but I gats talk am. I dey shake. My heart dey beat like generator wey almost knock.

She wipe her tears, voice don crack: "I know. I write everything for the diary."

She dey force smile, but e no reach her eye. She dey look me like say make I talk something wey go heal her, but nothing dey to talk.

When Little Butterfly beg me to call police, I tell am make she forget am. I reason say na fight she no fit win—a girl wey dey forget every day, fight all these people?

I still dey regret. For my mind, I dey pray make God forgive me, but I know say my fear dey real. This village, if you try cross line, dem go wipe you, bury you for bush.

I even tell her, if e pain you, go kill all of them, then dem go kill you too, make everybody end am together.

I dey laugh small, but na dark laugh. E pain me reach bone, but na truth. For here, wahala dey turn to violence sharp sharp.

But Little Butterfly still choose the hardest road—make she defend her own right.

She look me that day, her eye clear, say she go fight with her own hand. She dey write plan, dey look people for market, dey gather evidence like say e be police work.

That day she say, "I no wan die with them. Na dem do bad, but me, I wan live well! I no wan use my life exchange their own!"

Her voice strong, she beat her chest, "I go survive, I go win. No be their own life I dey find."

She decide to tattoo herself, so she go remember to come meet me, read the diary every day.

She ask me, "Obinna, abeg, if you see me, remind me. Tattoo my back, so I go dey remember say I get person wey dey for me."

For this village, everybody wey come my shop dey ask for lion or crocodile.

Some dey talk say, "Give me eagle!" Others want snake, but nobody ever ask for butterfly or phoenix.

She ask me for phoenix wey dey rise from ashes. She talk say, no matter how pain catch her, she go still rise again.

She bring book, show me phoenix, talk say, "Na spirit of woman wey no fit die."

Na the most serious tattoo wey I ever do.

My hand dey shake. I use new needle, clean ink well, no make mistake. I dey pray as I dey draw.

Little Butterfly fine well well, she deserve the most beautiful phoenix.

Her back na canvas. The way she just dey calm as needle dey enter her skin, e shock me. She no cry, just dey look window, dey smile.

People outside go talk say Little Butterfly don break down pass eight hundred times.

For junction, market, people dey gossip: "That girl no get luck. Everyday she dey cry, tomorrow she go forget."

But me, I know say her heart don scatter pass one thousand five hundred times.

I see the way she dey force herself wake up every morning, still dey greet people. No be normal strength.

So I dey always reason, how many times person heart fit break before e go die finish?

This question dey my head like song wey no gree comot. Sometimes, e make me fear for myself.

I open cabinet, bring out one USB drive.

The drive small, I dey hide am inside big bottle of cream. I show am, "See, everything dey here."

I talk, "These na videos of how dem dey do you bad. You sef secretly put camera for their house, dey record all your shame, because you swear say you go make all of them pay with your own hand."

Na small spy camera she dey use, e look like torchlight. Every week, she dey bring me new video. I dey transfer am, dey keep for her.

Little Butterfly hug the diary, just dey lost, dey talk, "Na only one remain—the lame old bachelor."

Her voice dey shake, but her eye no dey show fear. She dey reason last step, dey plan how to catch the man.

I sigh.

I rest hand for table, head dey heavy. This kind fight no dey get winner for here. But if anybody fit win, na Little Butterfly.

Before, I think say this road no go ever work.

I talk am for my mind, "Na big risk be this." But she dey stubborn pass goat. Her spirit dey like stone.

But she dey near to win.

Evidence don full, videos everywhere. Just one more, she fit expose all of them.

I collect the diary from her, talk soft, "Abeg stop to dey cry. If you cry sleep, you go forget everything when you wake, then you go read the diary again, your heart go break again."

I hold her hand, talk gentle. My voice low, "If you no rest, na double pain you go dey carry. E no go finish."

She ask, "Why you help me keep the evidence and diary? If dem catch you, dem go kill you. I check the diary, I no see why you dey help me."

She dey look me, her eye full with question, like say she dey search my soul. Her voice small, but e choke.

I no talk anything.

I just dey look window, dey watch as sun dey fall. My heart dey beat, but I no fit open mouth. Some things no get answer.

Of course I know—just one small help fit spoil my life.

I dey reason my papa wey dey farm, my mama wey dey sell akara. If anything spoil, na my fault.

I think, maybe na because the day I tattoo that phoenix, the way she look, her mind strong, she fine die, I just wan see how this Little Butterfly go turn to phoenix.

Sometimes, I dey pray say she go win. Even if everybody for village fall, make she stand.

For everybody eye, her body don dirty finish.

Na so people dey talk, "She don spoil." But if you look her well, na innocence still dey her eye.

But her soul pure pass anything for this world.

She dey greet beggar, dey share her food with small children. No matter how pain reach, she dey smile, dey help person.

Little Butterfly see say I no answer. She clean her tears, talk serious, "I dey go buy the last camera. If I win at last, I go pay you back."

She stand, arrange her cloth. Her eye clear, her mind made up. She dey talk as if e be business matter.

I wan talk say, no need to pay me. I don already meet the girl wey deserve phoenix tattoo pass anybody for this world.

I hold her hand small, wan talk, but my throat dry. If I fit talk my mind, maybe things go change, but words no gree come out.

But I no fit talk am. I just say, "I wish you success."

I nod, look down. Na only God know wetin go happen next.

But Little Butterfly no win.

E pain me, because hope dey my mind. But for this life, sometimes, bad people dey win.

That night, as I dey sleep, I just hear wahala downstairs.

I no fit sleep well before sef. My body dey ache, but this one loud. People dey shout, break bottle for ground. I dey reason say thief enter, but voice too plenty.

People dey shout, dey scatter my shop.

I hear Mama Ejima dey scream, "Wetin happen!" My mind jump. I rush wear slippers, dey ready myself.

My first mind na to hide the diary and evidence. As I rush go downstairs, I see villagers full everywhere.

Dem dey carry cutlass, stick, some dey hold torchlight. Market women dey cry, old men dey cough. E be like say village meeting don burst.

Dem don scatter everything. I just know say wahala don land. Na so one person rush me, carry shovel, break my head.

Blood splash for my face, my leg weak. I fall, dey see stars. Somebody hold my shirt, dey drag me for ground.

I fall. My papa and mama hear noise, come out. My mama begin shout and cry, my papa try block me, but dem no stop. Dem wound am join.

My mama dey scream my name, "Obinna! Obinna! Wetin una dey do my pikin!" Papa dey beg, but men no dey hear word when fear catch dem.

Na that time I know—Little Butterfly secret don leak.

As dem dey drag me, I dey think, "Who talk? Who leak am?" My heart dey cut. E be like film for my eye.

She almost win, but because of person wey no even join, everything scatter.

Sometimes, na person wey you no expect go spoil your own. For this our place, secret no dey last for long.

The man wey dey sell electronics see say Little Butterfly fine, dey buy plenty cameras. One day e ask her why she need am.

Na Alhaji Musa, the man wey dey fix radio, sell charger, dey press computer for junction. Im eye sharp, im mouth dey sweet.

Little Butterfly no fit talk true, so she say na for security.

She just wave hand, smile, "I wan dey watch my compound."

The man think say she put the cameras for her house, so e hack enter the cameras, dey hope say e go see Little Butterfly dey baff or change cloth.

E too sabi computer pass all of us. E reason say if he see her naked, e go use am taunt her, maybe chop small money join.

But na all the suffer wey she dey go through e see.

Instead of see woman, na pain, na violence, na beating, na cry. The videos dey shock am.

The man come dey happy—dey excited—how this kind thing fit happen for this world?

Instead of pity, e dey laugh, dey gist him friends for beer parlor. "Come see as dem dey finish this girl."

Every day e dey watch. Every time Little Butterfly come buy camera, e go dey reason say, you dey form for me, but I dey see everything wey dey happen to you—e sweet am.

Im heart don spoil finish. He dey reason himself say na king. E dey tap computer every night, dey watch as if e dey see film for cinema.

Little Butterfly too fine, body dey tempt. As e watch reach, e no even get interest for him own wife again.

E dey dodge wife, dey pretend say e dey do business, but na lie. E dey hide for room, dey look evil film.

The wife dey wonder why her husband weak, always dey for study dey press computer every night.

Woman sabi. She dey notice the change. One night, as she dey sweep, she see cable for ground, suspect say something dey happen.

One day, she no fit hold am again. As her husband enter bathroom, she rush enter study.

She open computer, click anyhow, then see folder with password. She use their pikin birthday try am—e open. As she see videos, her hand begin shake.

She vex.

Tears dey her face, but her eye red. Instead of cry, she carry phone, begin record the screen, dey snap everything.

But she no call police. Instead, she post Little Butterfly videos for their family WhatsApp group, make her in-laws see the kind pikin their son be.

She dey reason say, "Make una see as una son dey behave!" She send am sharp sharp, no filter. E cause wahala for group.

Her in-laws shock.

Old mama faint, brothers begin dey call each other. "You see wetin Musa dey do? You see video? Na who be all these men for video?"

Plenty men for the video look like their family people from nearby village.

People begin dey connect face, dey mention name. Gist begin spread like fire. Even elders dey worry, "If this thing leak, we all go enter wahala."

Dem rush go tell their people, before you know, everybody for village know.

Next day, for junction, na only this story full everywhere. From market to palm wine joint, na Little Butterfly matter.

The wives fear. Even though na their men do bad thing, na dem be breadwinner. If Little Butterfly call police, their family go scatter.

Some dey reason say, "If my husband enter cell, who go pay school fees? Who go farm?" Fear grip everybody.

As women, dem pity her, but if e go spoil their own life, justice no go reach—make she just die better.

Na so our place be: pity dey, but once e touch your own, you go choose your blood first. Na silent war, every woman dey cry for inside room, but for road, e be like nothing dey happen.

As dem dey panic, dem join body, begin find Little Butterfly, block every way make news no go out.

Dem use phone, dey call each other, dey monitor her movement. Some even dey spy her for market, dey shadow her waka.

Last last, one wife catch Little Butterfly dey waka near the lame man house, dey fix camera.

Na Mama Kudi, woman wey no dey laugh. As she see Little Butterfly bend for window, dey fix something, she grab her from back.

Dem catch Little Butterfly.

Four women grab her, drag her for ground. Her shoe lost, her wrapper tear. She dey shout, "Abeg, na mistake!"

I dey look as dem drag Little Butterfly by her hair, carry her enter my shop.

Her face dey dirty, blood for nose, eye red, but she dey force smile as dem drop am for ground. I dey fear as I see her like that.

She fall for ground, face full of wound, dey breathe hard, still force smile give me.

I wan rush help am, but men block me. I dey hear my own heart dey beat for ear.

I touch my own head, blood dey flow.

I use my cloth press the cut, blood still dey rush. My eye dey dark, but I no fit shout.

And my papa dey ground for blood, no fit stand.

My papa dey whisper, "Obinna, sorry." But men no even look am. My mama dey kneel, dey beg.

I don tell Little Butterfly before say I no go help her, because if she fail, my family go die follow am.

E pain me. But wetin I fit do? My family na my life.

Now, just because I pity her, help her keep evidence, my fear don come true.

Tears dey my eye, but I no gree let am drop. I dey swear for myself for mind.

Some men wey sabi computer dey ask Little Butterfly where the video files dey.

"Where the camera? Where the memory card? Where the video? If you no talk, we go finish you!" Na so dem dey shout.

Little Butterfly no talk.

She dey shake head, dey bite lip. Her mouth dey bleed, but she dey look dem one by one.

Dem come dey craze.

Fear don enter dem body. If video leak, police fit come. Dem dey reason, "Abeg, make this girl talk sharp!"

Before, dem dey toast Little Butterfly say she fine, but now, dem dey kick her head.

Her beauty mean nothing again. To save their own, dem fit do anything. Even young boys dey join beat.

Dem slap her fine face, kick her slim waist, use stick break her white legs.

E shock me, because the same men dey give her gift before. Now, dem dey use stick break her like firewood.

Dem forget say dem dey admire her before. Now, to save their self, dem dey beat her like mad dog.

As dem dey beat her, people dey look window, dey shake head. Some dey cry, some dey clap hand, say, "Good for her!"

Little Butterfly no gree talk. Na that time, one wife cry, "No beat her again! If she faint, she go forget everything—how she go confess then?"

Na true talk. If she sleep, memory go clear. Everybody pause. Women dey reason another way.

The men no sabi how to torture woman, but the wives sabi.

Women enter house, come back with pliers, salt, water. Dem know pain wey woman no fit bear.

To make Little Butterfly talk, dem hold her down, bring pliers, dey drag her fingernails.

Two women hold her hand, one press her leg. The one with pliers close eye, dey shake hand, dey cry.

The wife grit teeth: "Little Butterfly, I always remember your good, I dey pity you. My husband no sabi, but pikin no fit grow without papa. Abeg, just talk! You be good person—why you wan spoil everybody?"

Her voice dey shake, she dey cry as she talk. Her heart dey break, but her fear pass her pity.

Little Butterfly know wetin dey come. She knock her head for ground, wan faint.

She dey try close eye, dey pray say sleep go come. But women no gree.

But women hold her hair, no let her.

One woman put hand for her mouth, the other press her head, make she no faint.

Pliers hold her fingernail, wife close eye, pull am out.

Blood splash, pain cut through her body. Her scream loud reach heaven.

Little Butterfly wan faint, scream wey fit wake dead body, na so she clear.

Her whole body dey shake, her back bend, sweat dey her forehead.

Her body dey twist for pain, blood dey flow from finger.

She dey bite lip, tears dey pour. Everybody for shop quiet.

Pliers go second fingernail. Little Butterfly dey cry, beg dem. Wife dey cry too, dey wipe her tears, "I always see you as sister, my heart dey pain pass your own! But I must protect my family!"

As dem dey pull second nail, blood stain the floor. Her eye red, voice don break.

"Abeg, just talk, we go protect you."

Women dey beg, but their hand dey work. Dem dey reason say, if she talk, maybe peace go return.

"All of us na one family, you wan spoil the whole village!"

One old woman kneel, dey beg, "My pikin, abeg! If you spoil all of us, who go remain?" Dem dey cry together, but nobody stop.

The women dey cry, dey beg Little Butterfly, but their hand no stop.

As dem dey pull, children dey peep window, dey shiver. E resemble film wey dem no suppose watch.

Dem dey pull her nails one by one, her body dey twist like animal wey wound, dey shout.

Her body dey wet, sweat and blood mix. People dey hold nose, but no pity dey for their eye again.

The most beautiful girl for village, her face don turn to beast own.

Her lip don swell, blood for teeth, hair scatter. You no go know say na the same girl wey everybody dey call angel before.

She dey look as dem pull another nail, but she no gree talk.

She dey look me, like say make I help. My heart dey break. But I no fit move.

Me na the only hope for her life, she rather die than sell me out.

Her eye dey strong—e be like say she talk for eye: "Obinna, I no go talk."

I know say I worth am for her.

I dey swallow saliva, dey pray say make she survive. For my mind, I dey promise: if she live, I go do better for her.

Because dem no fit ever see the evidence, and to protect Little Butterfly, I hide am where dem no fit ever find am.

I go bury the drive for ground, under old cocoa tree, pour palm oil for top, make dog no smell am. Nobody fit ever see am except me.

As dem dey torture Little Butterfly, people dey search my house, but nothing.

Na so dem scatter everywhere, even break my radio. But dem no fit see the drive.

As she no gree talk, I talk, "Why una think say me and her dey do anything?"

I dey try change topic, shift their eye from her. My voice dey shake, but I gats act like say e no pain me.

I know say villagers dey suspect her tattoo, say e get link to me, so dem dey try fear me, beat me, make I confess.

Everybody dey point at her back, dey shout, "See name for there! See tattoo! Wetin you dey hide?"

One man talk, "I dey sell for your front. I dey see her come your house every day. Little Butterfly only remember old things. Before, she no dey come your side—why now? You join for this matter!"

People dey nod head. Gossip dey fly. Na small thing dey turn big for here.

"That tattoo na reminder to come meet you!"

Another person shout, "See am! E no pure!"

"You no dey talk true. You help girl wey no concern you, wan scatter our family!"

Village na family matter, so anything wey go shake peace, na war.

I press my bleeding head.

Blood dey drop for my hand, but I no mind. I dey reason wetin to do to save everybody.

I talk say I tie Little Butterfly, dey abuse her, dey tattoo her.

I lie say na me dey force am. My voice strong, but my heart dey cry. I talk, "Na me! I dey use her, I dey wicked, I dey do all the evil!"

I tell them say I be pervert, say Little Butterfly dey cry for my room all the time.

I add lie, "She dey beg me every night. Na only me she remember. I dey do her anyhow."

I just want make she dey think of me every day, dey come ask me, so I fit dey use her anyhow.

I dey act mad, dey roll for ground, dey shout, "I no get conscience! Na me spoil everything!"

My mama fall for ground, dey look me like say she no believe.

She dey cry, dey shout, "Obinna! You no fit do this!" But people hold her back.

She no fit ever think say her pikin fit do that kind thing.

For her eye, na small pikin wey dey follow am go market every Saturday. E pain her deep.

Everybody shock, until one neighbor talk say dem dey always hear woman dey cry from my room, cry wey dey pain ear.

Na Baba Sunday, the old drunk. E talk, "I dey hear noise every night. I think say na animal, but now I know."

Na that time villagers believe say I join.

Fear dey for their face. Some dey nod, some dey spit for ground, women dey hiss, children dey hide behind wrapper.

Everybody begin reason wetin to do. Last last, the lame old bachelor grit teeth, talk, "Since we no see evidence, as dem dey talk, 'no witness, no case!' Dead body no dey report for police. Make we call her parents—make we kill her today!"

E loud, everybody pause. Then men begin clap, say, "Na true talk!"

Everybody agree.

Dem begin dey shout, "Bring rope! Bring sack! Make we finish am now!" Nobody gree talk reason again.

Dem call Little Butterfly parents, all of them agree say dem go give her parents small money, bury Little Butterfly for bush behind village, where old graves full. Just dig one, throw her inside.

Mama and papa no fit talk. Money pass hand, secret pass mouth. For here, na so big shame dey die.

So nobody go report, everybody go safe.

Men dey reason say, "If police no see body, who go talk?" Na so village dey clean their hand.

Little Butterfly parents gree, but talk say make everybody promise help build new house for their son.

Papa beg say, "At least, do am for my boy. Let him start new life." People gree. Money na grease for peace.

Everybody gree. Only Little Butterfly dey ground, blood full her body.

Her breath low, eye dey half open. Nobody dey look her like person again.

The old bachelor look me, talk coldly, "I no trust you. Plenty people here no trust you. You go follow us go bush, bury her by yourself."

E point stick for my face. If I gree, maybe dem go spare my family. If I no gree, na my own wahala join.

I ask, "Why me?"

My voice low, but my hand dey shake. Fear don catch me, but I gats show bold face.

The old bachelor say, "If you really be pervert, if dem catch you, na death penalty sure. You go die anyhow, so why you go fear murder charge? If you no fit kill her, na lie you dey talk."

His face tight, voice cold. Everybody dey look me.

Everybody nod.

Men dey tap stick, dey knock ground. Some dey spit, dey cough. E be like say judgement don ready.

I look my papa.

He dey ground, dey hold his side, blood for head. Him eye dey beg me, but him mouth no fit talk again.

He try sit up, dey hold head, pain full him face.

Mama dey hug am, dey cry, "Obinna, abeg, do am so that dem go leave us!"

I say, "No wahala. I go bury her."

I nod, my hand dey shake, but for my mind, I dey plan.

Na that time everybody rest. Dem bring big woven sack, put Little Butterfly inside.

Her body soft, no strength. Sack dey soak with blood. I carry one end, another man carry the other end.

The old bachelor come, tap me for shoulder, smile, "Bro, you wicked o—dey tattoo person dey play with am, you dey wild."

E dey laugh, but e no reach im eye. Na warning e dey give me.

I force laugh like say I dey mad.

My mouth dey twist, but na to save face. For my mind, na only God fit judge all of us.

My mama just dey cry.

She dey hold my papa, dey look me. Her cry dey low, but e loud for my heart.

I think say, she go dey reason say I be devil.

She dey look me, tears dey fall. Na only her God go comfort am after today.

The son wey she train by herself turn to monster.

For her eye, everything don finish. She dey hold my hand, dey whisper, "Obinna, you no be devil. Na this village wicked."

For my heart, I say, Mama, I sorry.

I dey pray say, make God forgive me. If I fit change time, I for do am.

Nothing wey I fit talk go make her understand say na to protect my family I dey do all this.

Words no fit carry this kind pain. Na only spirit fit explain am.

Dem rush me, some men carry Little Butterfly climb bush path.

We dey walk inside dark, bush dey scratch leg, mosquito dey bite. Night breeze dey blow, e cold like freezer.

To make sure, dem go far, for where old grave dey, where nobody dey pass. Even if body rot, nobody go smell am.

Place dark, only moon dey show road. Sound of cricket full everywhere. Some men dey spit, dey curse, "Make this thing end quick."

As we reach, one man drag Little Butterfly out. Dem no wan leave sack for grave, if person ever dig am, dem go suspect.

Dem open sack, throw am for ground. Her hand limp, her hair dey cover face. E pain me well.

Little Butterfly don faint, me sef dey reason how I fit bury her first, then come back save her.

My plan be say, dig small, put her, cover am small, then come back when dem don go. Na God I dey pray to for mind.

As I dey think, sharp pain knack my head.

I no expect am. One man for back use shovel cut my head. Blood blind my eye, leg weak, I drop for ground.

The old bachelor use shovel break my head.

E bend, whisper for my ear, "You think say you smart? You think say you fit save am?"

I fall, my mind dey turn.

Everything dey slow. I dey hear voice, but na like echo. My eye dey heavy, hand dey shake.

The old bachelor shout, "You think say you fit fool me? I know who you be!"

Him face close to my own, spit dey touch me. E dey squeeze my neck, dey press my head for ground.

I talk, "I no lie to you…"

My voice dey break, but I dey beg. I no even fit see well.

"You dey do tattoo. Some wild girls for village wan tattoo, no get money. Dem say make you play with them, dem go collect tattoo free, but you no gree. Three girls at once—na every man dream—but you no gree."

E dey talk with pride, like say e dey calculate my life.

"My nephew dey run tattoo shop for town. E play with those girls, dey brag say you be straight guy."

He spit for ground, eye red. For am, I no be real man, I no be their person. E pain am say I dey different.

The old bachelor hold my hair, whisper for my ear, "Three girls together no fit move you. Little Butterfly fine like angel, but she pass three girls? You no be our person!"

As e talk, e press shovel for my neck, dey laugh low. For this place, to be good person na crime. Na only evil dey win for night. But for morning, sun go still rise—maybe one day, butterfly go fly again.