UnTitled

I held my breathe as I saw the glittering edge of the dagger he held, coming towards me. His face looked red and darkened, which tells anger. I never stopped saying my prayers deeply in my heart. I had lost voice for a cry or shout. I was left with the only option; to die! They have spared me for three days now for reasons best known to them. My fear was, what will they do with my corpse if I die in their hands? The four days of my capture, I was beaten, spat on, dehumanized and my manhood became a thing of caricature.

‘So na you wey your people no wan show face, abi?’, he asked in pidgin English as he pointed the dagger at a woman shivering at end corner of the room.

To Be Continued…..

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