Women Of Steel | ✔

IV

The man returns the next morning. Throughout the night, my eyes were shut tightly afraid of what I'd see if I looked, very well certain that somehow I had ended up in a slave camp and it was at night that men came to have their pick of women, not to buy as slaves but to rape.

The women didn't cry, they barely made any noise -- lying on the cold sand -- above the grunts and moans of their buyers but I cried for them, heaving muffled sobs into my palm half afraid that any sound from me would only attract attention to myself. Sometime later my eyes opened and met with another man in the haze of sick pleasure and the grin on his face made me throw up in my cage, the laughter that followed was nothing pleasant.

"Want to join, pretty girl?" The man had muttered through a shudder and my eyes had shut so fast, trying to erase what I had seen.

They had remain that way till morning, till I was sure they were gone and even when I opened my eyes, the women were still lying on the sand, eyes wide open and unseeing and soon the bamboo gates creak open and the women are dragged back into their cages.

I let the silence keep me company even as fear thuds in my chest, how long will take for me to become like these women? How long have these women suffered without finding help?

I don't do anything but sit there waiting for my fate to meet me and I don't wait for long, the man with the dreadlocks returns in the afternoon when my head pounds from exposure to the sun and my stomach grumbles from hunger. With a bitter amusement, I realize this is the longest I've gone without a meal.

The man returns with three other bulky men like himself and the deep frowns on their face tells me they mean business. When they hurl me from my cage, I kick and flail around uselessly, only stopping when a hot blow lands on the left side of my face.

"I don't want her damaged, or you will pay for the ointments and the medicine man." The man in the dreadlocks snaps and even though he is not talking to me, I shiver and stop all struggles, he wasn't mad when I made a mockery out of him yesterday, he looked amused but when I sneak a glance at him, his lips are pressed in a thin line and disapproval shines in his otherworldly eyes, and this morning, they are a deep green like fresh leaves.

The men take care in carrying me, only pausing when I hear a muffled sob from one of the women in the cages, I twist my neck to see her, wincing at the blood on her blouse and at first I think she is crying in pain, but then I notice the slight protruding of her belly and a whisper of a curse leaved my tongue.

I find a foolish promise slipping from my lips.

"I will be back," I mouth, unsure if she hears. "I will save all of you."

Only when I am ushered out of the fence of women and past the small hut and out of that compound does my words sink into me and the irony of it. I cannot save myself, let alone almost fifteen other women.

I huff out a laugh as they set me on the floor, I scramble to my feet, wrapping my arms around myself.

"This is where our partnership ends, the girl is yours to do as you wish, no returns." The taller man snaps.

My buyer wears boredom on his face like a crown, nodding once and striding away with my hand firmly in his. I don't dare look back in fear that if I do, somehow these men will take me back to that hell.

The man with the dreadlocks walks faster than I can follow and while his grip is strong, it is strangely not painful. I trudge slowly, panting after him.

"Please, slow down." I beg. He does, loosening his grip slightly.

He is wearing the same kaftan he wore yesterday but the collars are dirty and as I look around, I find that it will be difficult to keep clothes clean in a place as dirty and sandy as this desert, all around where I look is dunes of sand upon sand, and the sun does not make it better.

My steps stumble, my feet are hot under the sand, and my knees are weak and weary.

"How long do we have until we get to where ever you are taking me to?" I say through a dry throat. How long do I have to make you see reason?

"Not far." He says briskly.

True to his word, soon a bazaar comes into sight, and so does the noise and the filthy smell of excrement, meat and a thousand other things I cannot name.

The noise hits me at once, merchants beckoning to customers, haggling customers raising their voice in argument and spitting into wares. And of course, the beggars, the bazaar is crawling with them, hurdled by the corner of stalls, taking crumbs from fallen tables.

I remember when I was little, about ten years old, my mother had visited the market and after I nagged, she let me come along. I had watched her spit on a beggar and hit the old woman in the face for simply breathing the same air as her.

My mother was not a nice woman, she wasn't even a loving mother, she spoilt me but the concept of children were like accessories to her, something to flaunt around. Shame though, because she despised me for being a girl, that way she couldn't kill Tade and have me take his place as king.

Now, a familiar disgust wells up in me at the sight of the beggars, people I've been taught to look down on. Inferior to me, a princess.

"Please, let me go. My family is wealthy, you will be paid double of whatever you bought me for." I say, voice wobbling with tears. The dreadlocks man looks at me and grins feral, laughter dancing in his eyes.

"What family? Are you not some common girl?"

"I am a princess, my family is looking for me and you do not want to get on their bad side." I try to force haughtiness in my tone, it comes out like a childish whine instead.

"Princess of what? Your brother is dead, and your new king does not care one cowrie about you." He says, looking down on me.

My heart drops to my stomach, this man knows who I am and everything about where I am from.

"I am still valuable," I hiss as he continues to drag me past merchant stalls, no one bats an eyelid at us, unconcerned at my silent pleas for help.

"Is that what you tell yourself every night? No one wants you, darling, no one except me." He laughs, a deep throaty sound.

Up ahead, there are several tents pitched in the desert and that is where this strange man seems to be leading me to.

"What? You want me so you can rape me, use me as a slave and for whatever evil you deem fit." I am half satisfied when I look up to see his mouth tighten in anger, then my gaze wanders to the thick muscles in his arms and I gulp.

If this man were to lay a finger on me out of anger, then I wouldn't survive a blow.

"Foolish child, spending time among mortals leaves you thinking like one. I am almost disappointed, Omolara." If he were not dragging me along, then I would have frozen in my steps. He knows my name.

"What do you want with me?" I breath out in exhaustion, the noise of the bazaar behind us now. Any hope that I might have found help among them has been squashed like a bug, if no one there will help me, then no one else will.

"It's not so much about what I want with you, it is what you need from me. You summoned me here, Omolara." He says.

"You're talking nonsense, were." I snipe.

He drops my hand, letting it fall suddenly to my side and my eyes quickly dart back to the bazaar, wondering if there is a slim chance that I can outrun this man.

He seems to see the question in my eyes because his eyes blink to a deep purple, making me jump back.

"Don't think of running, there is nowhere on this earth, now, in the past and future, or the world beyond you could run to and I would not find you." He says with a shake of his head.

"Who are you?" I ask, rubbing my left wrist and hiding it behind my back when his gaze shifts to the brand on it.

He looks grim as he answers. "I am your father, Omolara and you are my own flesh and blood."