𝐈𝐧 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬

CHAPTER TWO

Willow's look in the media above guys.

Thanks for the support on the first chapter 🥺 it boosted my morale to update so much tysm😚

TWO

WILLOW

You've always dreamed of becoming a star?? An Instagram influencer?? My dear, run. Run for your dear life. This world is cruel.

My name is Willow Douye Alali. I'm nineteen. People say I lie about my age, and they say I'm at least twenty five. I knew why they said that though, it was because of the size of my breasts. I'm also an Instagram celebrity. Really, I never had body issues until I hit one hundred thousand followers on Instagram. For others, that'd have been a milestone, but for me, it brought a whole lot of hatred and backlash. And I honestly had no idea why. Now at one hundred and seventy thousand, I couldn't be any more insecure about my boobs. To make it worse, they're not aligned sef. And my fans, the people who follow me on Instagram rather, they never ever cease to remind me of the fact that one of my boobs is bigger than the other.

In conclusion, I hate everything. I hate myself. I hate my fucking management for forcing me to stay in the limelight, claiming that "any publicity is publicity". Bullshit.

At least I was rich. Although they claimed that my boobs got me my fortune from politicians and godfathers, I had the money I'd worked for and that was what mattered. All I needed now was peace.

And so, in one swift motion, the blood was glowing from my right thigh. I closed my eyes, reveling in the pain before quickly wrapping the bandage around my thigh firmly, in multiple layers and pulling up my trousers. I drew in a sharp breath and moved out of the bathroom and towards the bin where I tossed the tiny metal blade, then picked my phone and walked out of the room. It was time for orientation.

****

As soon as I stepped into the arena, as it was called, all eyes were on me. As usual. But instead of how it was when Ziora Barlowe stepped into this same hall through this very door two hours ago, I was given negative attention. And I knew it deep down that at least seventy percent of the people seated in the arena already followed me on Instagram. My confusion, therefore, was why they hated me so much.

"Kai, I must knack this girl before we leave this camp, wallahi"

"Guyy, see breast nah"

"And this your miliki for fronti na for me, hold am for me, oh with your Coker body"

Those were the comments made by the boys as I walked to the back to grab a seat. I exhaled, zoning out in order not to hear the sexual or hate comments which they didn't even bother to hide from me. They basically spat them at me as if I was some kind of worthless shit. And my management would call them fans. God forbid.

I blamed my stupid management for making me wear these kind of stupid clothes. "Clout", they said. Fools. Everybody. All my outfits basically highlighted my biggest insecurity and the fools had the guts to tell me that publicity is publicity. It's that publicity that will kill them, all of them.

Soon, an official mounted the stage and took a mic to begin to address us.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen" he started. "Firstly, I would like to apologize for the delay earlier today. I apologize, on behalf of my team, for keeping the majority of you waiting and without refreshments. However, I assure you that immediately after this, your sumptuous meal awaits you in the dining, don't worry"