Seven Ways To The Abyss

WELCOME TO ABUJA

Sofia's body ached as she slowly regained consciousness. She knew Elaina hadn't been gentle while running. Her hunger was worse now, gnawing at her insides. *What a pest,* she thought.

Sofia looked around and saw towering piles of crushed cars, machinery, and metal scraps stretching toward the sky like a metallic graveyard. The ground beneath her was uneven, and she realized she'd been sitting on something sharp. It was high noon, and the sun shone directly into her face. Through a large, rusty metal gate, she could see an industrial landscape. *Am I still in the country?* she wondered, even though she distinctly remembered telling Elaina not to leave the border.

"Elaina, where are we?" Sofia asked, still dazed. Her voice was groggy, and she squinted against the glaring sunlight.

"The capital," Elaina replied, her tone annoyingly casual.

Sofia blinked in disbelief. Normally, she was ready to yell at Elaina for any reckless behaviour, but this time, she was speechless. After a moment, her shock turned to anger.

"You brought us to Abuja?" she snarled.

"You said anywhere," Elaina retorted.

"Not the *capital!*" Sofia exclaimed, clapping her hands to her forehead in frustration. "Oh, God!" she cried, anxiety taking hold. "Elaina, you've killed us! From firewood to fire!"

Sofia could panic all she liked, but Elaina would remain calm. As infuriating as she was, Elaina wasn't much of a talker. She only spoke when giving her opinion, answering a question, or simply to annoy Sofia.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Sofia tried to reason with Elaina. "Elaina, this is the capital of Nigeria, okay? That means it's the most secure state in the country." Her words were calm, but her tone was seething.

Elaina, as unruffled as ever, simply replied, "And so?"

Sofia struggled to keep her anger in check. "So, in the capital, our problem isn't just the vigilantes. There are police, the army, navy, air force-*every* kind of security force you can imagine. Do you know what that means?"

"Your point?" Elaina said, her indifference unwavering.

Sofia felt her patience snap. "My point is, we can't be here! Take us to another state!" she shouted, her anger boiling over.

Elaina stayed silent for a moment before finally saying, "Can't. I'm out of gas. Get me something to eat, and then we'll talk." She yawned and drifted off to sleep.

Sofia sat in the middle of the scrapyard, processing what had just happened. "Oh Lord, this girl," she muttered, running her fingers through her thick hair. She glanced around, contemplating her next move. Crying herself to sleep was tempting, but impractical. She needed to find food and shelter. Plus, she couldn't sleep at the same time as Elaina. If she did, their body would relax too much, and her vines might go loose. The long, thick vines that moved with terrifying speed-she only used them when in danger. Elaina had more control over them, just as she had more control over their shared body, but the vines always made Sofia uneasy.

In truth, Sofia hated her vines. They reminded her of what she was: a monster, a freak of nature who fed on her own kind. Worse, they consumed 30 percent of the nutrients she ingested, keeping themselves alive and healthy. They were like giant, double-edged spears, and Sofia suspected they might be the death of her one day.

Yet, as much as she hated her vines, she also relied on them. They made hunting easier and protected her from the dwellers of the compound. Her last encounter with another of her kind had been over a week ago-a boy named Damian sent to kill her. It wasn't unusual for assassins to come after her, but Damian was different. He was strong-*insanely* strong. He laughed at her attacks, dodging effortlessly. The fight was so easy for him that he even struck up a conversation.

"Hello, Sofia. I'm Damian," he said casually, evading a vine that lashed out at him.

His name was the least of Sofia's concerns. She had never struggled this much in a fight. Damian's vines were smaller than hers, as was common among most Jagreels, but his speed was remarkable. Sofia was bleeding from over thirty wounds, yet she pressed on, knowing that one misstep could be fatal.

Still, Damian continued his one-sided conversation. "I was sent here to kill you, Sofia," he said politely, as if discussing the weather.

"Oh, you don't say," Sofia shot back sarcastically.

Damian suddenly halted his attacks and leapt onto an elevated rock to avoid her last strike. "But I'm no one's puppet," he said with a serene smile, almost as if he were smiling to himself. He turned away, ready to leave.

"You're just going to walk away?" Elaina shouted after him.

Damian glanced over his shoulder, his expression smug. "Do you want to continue?" he asked mockingly, before disappearing at full speed.

After Damian left, Elaina had clutched her wounded stomach, spitting out blood until she passed out. Sofia often thought about Damian, not in a romantic way, but with genuine fear. What if there were more like him? Stronger ones? The thought sent shivers down her spine. She had always considered herself the strongest among her kind, living without fear. But if there were more like Damian, she'd have to stay on her toes. Damian could have killed her if he'd wanted to. Knowing someone like him existed gave her goosebumps. He hadn't even taken the fight seriously, yet he emerged unscathed while she bled from places she didn't know could bleed.

After that fight, Sofia had been drained, her hunger ravenous. She'd gone into town and tried to eat the first thing she saw-a ten-year-old boy. Her conscience told her no, but hunger drowned out reason. Luckily, the boy escaped. She felt both pained and relieved. Mostly relieved because she hadn't killed him. She hadn't destroyed her metanoia.

Things spiralled after that. The boy told everyone he knew. Most didn't believe him, but his persistence led the vigilantes to keep a closer eye on her. Eventually, they found her with a dead body. She hadn't killed the person; she was just feeding. But with a dead body in her house, it was easy to be labeled a murderer. They chased her until she fled the state. Not that she hadn't killed before-she had done plenty of that-but this time, she hadn't, and it annoyed her.

Sofia stood up, dusting the dirt off her clothes. She glanced down to see what she had been sitting on and noticed a pair of rusty bolt cutters. She hissed under her breath before picking up her bag, ready to find a new place to settle in the capital city.