He Promised Me Work In Lagos, Na Trap I Enter (EPISODE 9)

EPISODE 9 – Night Bus Out of the East

The night I left Umunze, I didn’t cry.

Not because I wasn’t sad, but because my tears had already finished long before that day. What I felt instead was a strange mix of fear, excitement, and relief — like someone stepping off a cliff and praying the fall would turn into flight.

I packed quietly. One small bag. A few clothes. My certificates. The little money I had saved from odd jobs. I stood in my room for a long time, looking at the walls that had watched me grow and suffer.

My father didn’t walk me to the park. We didn’t argue anymore. We were past that stage. He just told me to be careful and avoid bad friends. His voice was flat, like someone giving advice he wasn’t sure would matter.

I left before dawn.

At the park, the night bus was already waiting. Big, dusty, and tired — like all of us about to enter it. People were dragging bags, calling names, arguing about seats. Hawkers shouted, selling bread and sachet water.

I bought bread I didn’t eat. My stomach was tight.

As I climbed into the bus, I felt something heavy lift off my chest. For the first time, nobody in that park knew my story. Nobody knew my mother. Nobody whispered when I passed.

“This is it,” I told myself. “New beginning.”

The bus moved slowly at first, then picked speed. As Umunze faded behind us, my heart started beating fast. Fear crept in. What if this was a mistake? What if Lagos swallowed me whole?

But another voice inside me answered back.

“Anything is better than staying.”

I stared out the window as darkness wrapped the road. Villages passed. Cities passed. Somewhere between Anambra and Lagos, sleep caught me briefly. I dreamt of a room with white walls and sunlight. I dreamt of earning my own money.

When I woke up, my phone buzzed. A message from him.

“How far? You don reach park?”

Seeing the message calmed me. It made the journey feel planned. Controlled. Safe.

By the time the bus crossed into Lagos, the air felt different. Heavier. Louder. Alive. Horns blared endlessly. Buildings crowded each other. The city didn’t sleep, and it didn’t apologize.

As the bus slowed down at the park, my heart sank and lifted at the same time.

I had arrived.

I didn’t know it then, but this was the last moment I would feel both hopeful and free at the same time.

Episode 10 Coming Soon
When I stepped down from the bus, Lagos didn’t welcome me — it watched me. And the man who promised me work was already waiting.