He Promised Me Work In Lagos, Na Trap I Enter (EPISODE 23)

EPISODE 23 – When Cry Finish, Anger Wake

That night, I lay on my bed staring at the cracked ceiling. The city noises filtered through the thin walls — shouting hawkers, the honk of cars, the occasional scream of a child. Lagos never slept, and neither did my thoughts.

Tears had run dry. I had cried for weeks, begged for mercy, begged for freedom, begged for even the smallest semblance of choice. I had prayed to God, whispered His name in fear and hope, pleaded with him, my “benefactor,” to let me breathe, to let me live my life.

And now? Now, tears could not come anymore. My throat ached. My chest ached. My stomach ached. But something else began to burn inside — a quiet, fierce anger.

I remembered the small shop, the naira notes I had earned, the taste of independence snatched away before it even began. I remembered his calm voice, the way he followed me, the way he said I was his responsibility as if I were an object and not a person. I remembered the nights I ate because of his generosity but slept trapped because of his control.

No more.

I clenched my fists. I could feel it: the anger that rose from helplessness, that grew from fear, that screamed louder than any sob. It was not loud, not yet. But it was there. Quiet. Waiting. Patient. Powerful.

For the first time, I realized that tears would not save me. Begging would not save me. Only action could. Only courage could. Only planning could.

I rose from my bed, pacing the small room. “I go find my way out. I no go beg again. I no go fear again. I go take back my life.”

The city hummed around me, indifferent. Lagos could swallow anyone. But Lagos also hid opportunities — and I would find mine. Slowly, quietly, carefully.

That night, I made a decision: I would stop asking, stop pleading, stop hoping for mercy. I would fight for my life, no matter the cost.

Episode 24 Coming Soon
Nkiru begins secretly watching him, noting patterns and routines. She starts forming a careful plan to regain independence — but every small move could be dangerous.