“Can you hold me?” The question seemed silly to Izogie, because she was holding you. A chuckle shook her chest and she held you tighter, like she thought you wanted. But you pulled back and propped yourself up on your elbows to gaze down at her.
“No, I-I mean… Can you hold me?”
Her eyes widened.
“Oh, are you sure?” She asked, and you nodded with a soft smile. Her heart swelled with amore, then she closed the short distance, connecting her lips to yours.
~~~
The kiss was feverish. Full of moans and mewls. Absent of inhibition and reservation.
Not having to shy away in fear if your interlocked lips made a smacking sound. Not having to be mindful of smearing your tribal paint.
Her hands grabbed and groped what they itched to for weeks. One kneaded your backside, her sharp nails lightly grazing upon the fabric, sending shivers up your spine and to your core. The other snaked under your nightgown and lifted it to your breasts, exposing your lower half to the cool night air.
You were straddled on top with your flesh against her as her back lay flat in the soft grass. Your legs were on either side of her hips, your centers grinding against each other through her skirt.
Your palms cupped her face to deepen the kiss as if she would disappear from right under you.
This position had you burning with desire, desperate for more, but you weren’t sure of what to do next. You felt an intense sensation in your nether regions and wondered if she held a similar feeling in hers. Your lips parted and she trailed after you in want, making you smirk.
“You’re feeling something down there too, right?” You asked breathlessly. She chuckled.
“More than you will ever know, princess.”
Smiling softly at her answer, you gently started placing open-mouthed kisses down her jawline, the length of her neck, to nibble at her collarbone. You smoothly repositioned yourself to be in between her legs instead, your hips putting more pressure on her core. Her low moans made your brain buzz blissfully and encouraged you to travel downward to her brown mounds.
Your left hand slithered from her neck to her right breast and you began to palm it. You enclosed your plump lips around her left one, attempting to take its entirety into your hot mouth. Subconsciously looking for more pleasure, Izogie bent her knees and spread her legs farther apart.
Your other hand smoothed over her knee down to her inner thigh, drawing small circles with your thumb right next to where she needed you most.
“Mhh, mi wanyi, if you continue teasing me, I will flip you.” She warned, her chest rising and falling harder as you stayed latched on. You let her go with a pop and gazed up at her through black, curly lashes.
“Tease? I am doing no such thing. I am simply taking my time with you.” You slipped your hand to her center, grazing your thumb over her lips, just enough pressure to move them but not enough to hit her sensitive bud that lay between them.
Her hand gripped your shoulder as volts of pleasure from just the slightest pressure quickly crept up her spine. She released a heavenly gasp and dug her head deeper into the grass.
Your lips trailed down past her belly button, to her abdomen, then hovered above her vulva.
“Can you show me how to touch you?”
Your question caught her by surprise and she peered down at you. Her face burned as your heated, but doe-eyed gaze focused on her every move. She nodded her head and slipped her hand off your shoulder to land on her center.
Slowly spreading her lower lips apart with one hand, the other circled her clit with some applied pressure. Your dark orbs darted from the technique of her nimble fingers, pulsing clit, leaking entrance, stuttering hips to her bitten lip.
The eagerness etched all over your face and your hands massaging her inner thighs made her wetter than she thought was humanly possible.
“A-and if my nails a-are not sharp, I put one or two in.” She breathlessly said. Your eyebrows raised to your hairline. You never thought about using your fingers during your own alone time. The thought of Izogie fucking herself pooled arousal between your own legs.
“Do you think of me when you do that?” Your nails dug slightly deeper into her thighs, anxious to hear her response.
“I only ever think of you when I do anything.” Her answer was immediate. You bit your lip and smiled.
“Good.” You gently take her hands and replace them with yours in the same position she showed you. You did it so smoothly that she almost didn’t notice that it was no longer her touching herself.
Your fingers instantly went to work, her demonstration seared in your brain now and forever. The slick juices that coated your fingertips made you salivate like a feline to milk. Your primal instincts fully took over and sucked her essence clean off, a deep moan rumbling in your chest at your lover’s unique taste.
The sight of you – eyes shut and plump lips enclosed around your digits – tasting her delectable secretions made her moan with you. You almost forgot the task at hand as you were losing yourself in her flavor. Locking eyes with her hooded and dazed ones, your thumb returned to her clit, and you slowly slid your middle finger into her with the utmost care.
A small gasp left her lips at the welcome intrusion. Every tremble of her thighs synchronized with every nudge of her sensitive bud. Her back began to arch off the grass as pleasure radiated from tiny lake ripples to amassing ocean waves. Your eyes sparkled as you marveled at how she reacted to your loving touches.
The warrior looked ethereal under the moonlight’s gaze.
“Ohhh, keep going like that!” She sighed, her hands reaching out to you. Your free hand intertwined with one of hers. “Mmm, a-add another one.” The squelching sounds started the deeper you pumped another finger into her. Her pussy clenched around your digits, making you leak yourself at the gripped feeling.
Her moans remained low and constant, but that wasn’t nearly enough for you. You wanted to hear her hit high notes, to scream your name so loud that it reached the stars above. Her center glistening in the moonlight gave you the greatest idea. Maneuvering your thumb out of the way, you leaned forward and licked a stripe up her cunt.
Shocked at the sudden jolt of electric pleasure that shot up from below her navel, her thighs clamped around your head out of reflex. The burning desire in both your gazes clashed together as she witnessed a mischievous smirk curl your wet lips. She tried to rewind and figure out how she got in this position in the first place because you were the one who asked her to hold you. Now here you were, holding her down, feeling her every crevice, and about to devour her like she was your last meal.
There wasn’t a spot your fast-learning tongue missed, its jumping taste buds hungry to consume every aspect of the warrior. Expletives began to spill out of her mouth the harder you sucked.
She tasted like what you would imagine the drinks from the gods had amongst themselves; dazed and drunk with delight, pleasure bubbling under dark and gleaming skins as mighty stories were exchanged.
It would be an understatement to say you both got drunk off of each other. You slurred your words into her pussy as you gushed over how divine she tasted. Her mind whirled with every lick on her clit, pump of your fingers, and grope of her breast. It was pushing her to the edge of a cliff where she’d be swept away by the sea of ecstasy below.
“Can you let go for me, mu ntima?” You cooed, coaxing her orgasm with a slight twitch of your fingers, hitting a spot that flashed hot white behind her eyelids.
“Oh fuck, Y/N!” That’s what you wanted to hear. Your name falling from her lips as you got her to her peak. Your fingers never let up, riding her high out for as long as you possibly can. Her hand stopped your motions once the overstimulation became too much for her.
As she gently slipped your fingers out, your eyes slowly trailed up her body: moist sweat stuck to her skin and amplified her afterglow. Her breasts slightly bounced with each exhale of blissful breath. When your eyes locked with hers, a small smile etched her lips.
“Come here.” She softly said, a little breathless. You rose from between her legs and crawled up to her lips without a thought, gently placing loving kisses onto her.
“Did I do well?” You asked hopefully against her lips. A chuckle vibrated between you both before she replied.
“Taha, you did more than well! I thought the stars up there came closer to dance in front of my eyes!” The praise spread a giddy sense of warmth through your chest and your eagerness came rushing back.
“Can I do it again?” The question came with doe-eyes and an innocent smile like you hadn’t just sinfully sent her to heaven and back seconds ago. Her arms snaked around your waist to keep you close to her.
“Mm-mmh, I want to hold you like you asked,” A kiss on your cheek. “To show my princess how much I love her.” A kiss to your jaw. Her eyes glinting with passion, she smirked as she admired your beautiful face.
“Do you have a throne in the kingdom, mi wanyi?” Her question made your nose crinkle and you shook your head, curious as to where this was going.
“Well, use me as your throne in the meantime then.” A jolt of excitement flashed through your core at her offer, sending blood rushing to your face. You giggled as you leaned up and finally relieved your body from the silky confinements of your nightgown, exposing your supple brown skin to your lover’s unwavering gaze.
She drank in the sight she had dreamed of for weeks on end, branding the image across her brain as a symbol of her relinquishing her power over her mind to you. Possessive hands glided up your thighs and grasped your backside, guiding your hips into hers. Your pussy throbbed as pleasure from before began to build again. Just as you closed your eyes to grind against her, her voice regained your attention.
“Come sit on your throne.” The command was so soft, yet her low-lidded gaze held all inferno. You wiggled your hips in your straddling position, knitting your eyebrows with a smirk.
“Is that not what I am doing right now?” She nudged you by your backside again, and you finally caught on to her naughty idea. You rose up from her hips by your knees, giving her full view of your wet center hovering directly above her naked torso. Then you began to scoot your knees up towards the sides of her face through the thick green grass.
It was like with every inch you made, the glands in Izogie’s mouth pulsed harder, making her mouth hot, wet, and ready to consume you. When you were over her chest, her arms slid from around your waist to under your thighs to encourage your journey to your throne, then you stopped. Her eyes flickered up to yours.
“A-Are you sure? I do not want to hurt– oh!” Right in the middle of your second-guessing, she kissed her teeth and slid underneath you, mumbling about how she did not go through years of training for you to question her strength. Before you could process the heat of her breath on your sensitive bud, she pulled you down to her tongue and stars spun across your vision.
Each ecstasy-inducing lap of her tongue made you hunch forward, almost planting your face in the grass above her. The sensation of your clit being licked, sucked, and kneaded all at once had you riding closer to the edge as the fire in your core grew unbridled.
The pleasure was almost too much. Your head began to spin, and fears of being overwhelmed to the point where you woke up from this steamy dream crept into the back of your mind.
“I-Izogie, mu ntima, I do not know if I-I can take it!” You squeal into the tall grass. Her nails digging into your fleshy thighs added fuel to your fiery loins. Izogie’s lips smacked a few times with each suck a few more times before she willed them to let go.
“You can take everything I give you, as long as you are in my arms, mi wanyi.” Your heart soared as her words made the stars above twinkle brighter, her comforting conviction solidifying your haven of this Dreamscape.
You nodded your head, moaning as she lowered you back to her eager lips, swirling her hot tongue around your swelling bud. Her words of encouragement as she devoured you spread euphoria from your core to the rest of your body in pulsating waves.
Your hands gripped at the grass. Toes curled into the dirt. Bosoms swayed with each pleasuring motion.
You were close.
Your back was arched and you threw your head to the midnight skies above, eyes blurry with tears. Her hands quickly found yours as she sensed your approaching climax, wanting to feel connected in every way possible.
Moans from you and coos from her echoed through the Dreamscape. The cool night soothed your simmering skin made from the orgasm that boiled over. You’re not sure when, but Izogie laid you on your side and cradled you in her arms as you came down from your high.
Breaths and heartbeats synchronized naturally as time stood still for this moment of serenity. With eyes closed, you told her that you loved her and wished that this moment would last multiple lifetimes.
“And I love you too, mi wanyi. That is one thing for certain I know will last till the end of time.”
I have clawed my way back from the depths of Hell, reborn and with fics in hand.
TW: Death/ Description of death. and some angst...
Inspired by some amazing works from @shanas-baby @droopycoquette and @zeezeecave
~***~
Pain. It was all consuming, blinding, paralyzing pain. The wailing figure above her blurred in and out of focus. Yet Izogie could recognize her. Yet her thoughts were rushing at impossible speeds. This was death. She was dying.
What should she say? What could she say? A million emotions ripped at her heart and she was running out of time. The darkness was already creeping into her vision.
“Nawi…Y-you move l-like a ssloth…” Izogie gurgled before she succumbed to the darkness…
~***~
Time is an odd thing. Sometimes, if one is unlucky enough, its true twisted and warped nature is revealed. Izogie seemed caught adrift in one such limbo. Darkness that spiraled forever and a gentle rhythmic pulsing were her only company.
A stagnant calm, heavy and static weighed at the warrior’s limbs as Izogie floated in the vast nothingness. Yet something nagged at the back of her mind. Something important. Her mind insisted and made her vaguely aware that somewhere in this odd space, pain thrummed from a distant unknown source.
It annoyed and unnerved her.
“Where was it coming from?”
Occasionally in the static, sounds would slip through the veil of darkness. They warbled and bounced through the cavernous void and Izogie would puzzle over them. At even rarer times light would rip through limbo in thin slices.
Visions would flash in Izogie’s sensitive eyes. A twisted pile of broken bodies, a bloody hand, a sandy shore. None of it made sense and all the while, something somewhere was in pain.
“Where was it coming from?”
With little else to occupy her time the warrior often turned to her thoughts. So this was death? It was more underwhelming than she’d thought. Disappointing even. Despite the numbing calmness, Izogie felt strangely bitter about the thought. And try as she might, she couldn’t help but worry. Had Nawi been captured again? Had she failed that girl yet again? That made the warrior angry. Her… blood? Boiled at the very thought.
thump…
What kind of a mentor was she? To let down a sister, her sister, and abandon her… Guilt tore through Izogie, fueling her rage.
thump… thump…
How weak of her… Nanisca would be disappointed in her, if she weren’t already!
thump…
Thump… Thump…
Rage, guilt, sorrow, and pure stubbornness lit a fire deep in Izogie’s heart. The darkness seemed to shake and warp. The illusion of stagnant comfort was broken. In its place was a murky unease.
Author's Note: My first real attempt at a horror fic! Read it in the dark for the best experience (that's not a request👿). This fanfiction is inspired by the Pagan ritual "Midnight Game" where you summon a "Midnight Man" at, you guessed it, midnight and you have to survive him until 3:33 A.M.! I put a little spin on it and this was the result, so have fun!
Word count: 7k
Synopsis: It was supposed to be a stupid sleepover game your friend dragged you into, but it quickly took a turn for the worst.
The desolate corporate building loomed tall and uninviting before you. Giant letters that once adorned its name proudly above the elaborate entrance, now lay scattered and humbled in the dying weeds under its broken windows. The only remnants of the building identity were the stains the letters left behind: Dahomey Rising Inc.
You weren’t one to be superstitious, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that the chills that trembled you the closer you trudged forward was because of this abandoned building.
“Well, this is it!” Neda, your new friend from America, announced. You both met a few months ago on campus when she transferred to Benin University to stay with her mother. She was a spontaneous one, you could tell, but you didn’t expect her to be the type to take up adventures that were… borderline idiotic.
But here you stood with her and your other two friends, Serai and Yonawan, walking on the same idiotic path this sleepover had taken from the comfort of your dorm rooms.
It beats talking about boys all night. You reasoned before you gave into tonight’s vote. Now you were mentally kicking yourself for not suggesting some bad movie instead; an unsettling feeling sat like a log in mud in your stomach ever since the round and bright moon shone on the eerie establishment that was rumored to be cursed.
“It’d totally suck if it was locked, then we’d have to go all the way back to our comfy beds.” Serai spoke up, covering her shaky voice through jests.
“Haha, nice try, but we’re already here so this game is definitely going to happen.” Neda marched on with the unwavering confidence of a shepherd, and we all glanced at each other before following like her sheep.
The closer we got to the building, the higher it seemed to reach the sky despite it only being two stories. She tugged at the handle and for the few seconds it didn’t budge, you huffed a sigh of relief. But then she added a wiggle, and the door gave way.
Damn.
It creaked and groaned like it was stretching out the stiffness that built up since it was deserted. Stepping into the lobby, the moonlight followed us and highlighted the ruins.
Weeds that managed to seep through the wooden planks fell limp and wilted, as if the building sucked its life force the second it rose through. Wallpaper that was once vibrant with oranges and browns were now ripped and peeling off of the wall, revealing gray, grim stone underneath. The lobby chairs were knocked over and forgotten files and documents littered the ground.
What the hell happened here?
And Neda had a few theories, “Wow, I think people online were right. Maybe some shit went down that caused people to book it.”
“And what exactly did the ‘people’ say caused all of this?” You asked, gesturing to the decades old mess. She turned to you and angled her phone’s flashlight under her face, casting a shadow to the high lobby ceiling. “The Warrior Woman.”
Yonawan scoffed and rolled her eyes. “That’s a myth. Just because a few freak accidents happen doesn’t mean a place is cursed. Besides, I don’t see any blood stains anywhere, so I doubt some Agojie ghost went on a murdering spree.”
Serai remained quiet, snapping her head to every sound she thought she heard, and every movement she thought was in her peripheral vision. You pitied her mousy nature and hoped that this “game” Neda had in store would be a quick one.
“Oh! It’s 11:45. Okay, grab a chair and let me explain the rules real quick.” After you all grabbed your seats, you all watched her as she started pulling paper, needles, salt bags, and wax candles from her bag. Once all the material was out and passed around, she leaned forward with a mischievous smirk on her face, ready for a night of potential fright.
“So the game is ‘Hide and Don’t Breathe’. Of course, you can breathe, but not too loud or the Warrior Woman might find you. We will complete a ritual that will invite her to the game and if she accepts, she will light our candles.”
Your stomach churned. Who sits at home and makes up bullshit to mess with spirits for fun? You thought, but before you could judge further, a creak in the distance reminded you that you were amongst the mad few that dared to participate. You shifted nervously, trying to focus on the rules.
“As long as the flame burns, that’s our time to hide. When it dims, it means time is running out. Once it’s gone… ready or not, here she comes. You stay as silent as a mouse until your candle is relit to hide in a different place. But if you are not in a hiding spot, you have 10 seconds to sprinkle a complete salt ring around yourself, and you must remain there for the remainder of the game.”
“When does the game end?” Serai asked.
“3:33 A.M..”
“Of course.” Yonawan shook her head, not taking any of this seriously. Neda ignored her and kept going.
“If she finds you, or you forfeit in your salt circle, you lose. If you make it to 3:33 A.M. without being found, you win. We have to complete the ritual at exactly midnight, so if you have questions, ask them now.”
Your silence and exchanged glances answered, and a satisfied smile etched her face.
“Great!” She gave us instructions on the ritual and you started your part.
You wrote your full name on a ripped piece of paper and lit your candle. Taking the steel needle, you pricked your finger with a hiss and a red glob seeped through your broken skin. The moonlight brightened, as if it was peering from behind the clouds to see what kind of chaos would unfold under its silver, gleaming rays.
You smeared your blood on the paper, sealing your intention and commitment to the game. The wax started to melt, and you tilted the candle enough so that a drop hit the back of the paper. You stuck your blood-binded name tag under the candle and waited for the next step.
Phones switched off, flames burning, and breaths cautious, Neda began again.
“Remember, don’t turn on any lights, don’t hide in the same place twice, and don’t antagonize the Warrior Woman.” Her flame flickered, whether it was from her own breath or the breath of the ghost, you didn’t know. “We have 2 minutes left, now’s your last chance if you want to forfeit.”
You all glanced at each other to read any hesitation the candlelights exposed; by the slight shaking of Serai’s candle, you could tell she was more terrified than her expression led on. She said nothing.
Each second down to 11:59, your breaths grew heavier as the air seemed to weigh more around you. Surely, it was only the anxious mud that bubbled in your gut that was making you feel that way. You didn’t have time to dwell on it though, for Neda signaled the beginning of the chant.
“Warrior, warrior, come seek me, and see if you can find me. Warrior, warrior try to trick me, and see if I am witty. Warrior, warrior be open to losing, and deem me worthy.”
The room got darker. This was not your imagination. You peeped at the entrance and noticed the clouds started to hide the moon.
Or maybe the moon was hiding behind them, not bearing to witness another tragedy that could take place at this cursed property once again.
At the second chant, the shadows casted on the wall slipped out the entrance, and the air– it grew colder.
Something isn’t right. This was a mistake.
But your pricked finger ached sharply, a somber reminder that you bound yourself to this.
You completed the chant a third time at the strike of midnight. A glance once more at your fellow players, then you all blew your flames out.
Still.
That’s what pitch black feels like.
No one drew breath. No one shifted in their chair. No one called out in the darkness.
With the few unchanging seconds that passed, your mind went to more hopeful places.
It didn’t work… Or she doesn’t care for us.
But a flash of sun yellow nearly blinded you, and Serai’s squeal made you jolt back into your chair. Once you blinked the white spots from your vision, blood drained from your face: her candle was lit.
Then another flame burned bright across from you, it was Neda’s. The light exposed her wide stunned eyes, her spirited nature singed with horror.
Yonawan’s lit next, and even her skepticism couldn’t stop her from breaking a cold sweat at her brow.
Finally, they turned to you. Yours was taking forever, though only a few spare seconds passed.
Like the Warrior Woman was saving the best for last, your flame sparked and burned high and mighty, the tip almost licking your eyebrow as you held your candle away from you.
The weight in your gut made sense now. It was an impending dread you felt, and you’d give anything to rid yourself of the awful feeling.
But it was too late now. You invited the Warrior Woman to play, and she accepted.
You all sat there dumbfounded, trying to make logical sense of what was happening; maybe this is a nightmare, or Neda’s sick idea of a joke. But when you gazed upon her candle lit face, the mischievous smirk she usually wore was nowhere to be found.
Your flame that wiggled in the dark brought you back to the situation at hand, and you snapped out of it. “Don’t we need to find a hiding place?” You reminded them in a low whisper.
Meekly agreeing, your footsteps started down the hall, flinching every time you heard the crinkle of paper under your soles. The night just started, and you had a feeling the next three hours and thirty-three minutes were going to be hell.
1:20 A.M.
The past hour surprisingly went smoothly: you all would find a room, mark a spot, and wait for the light to dim until you hid. The urge to freak out when the flame snuffed out on its own was a consistent battle, but when it relit, you could breathe again.
There was no drop in temperature. Dark figures that your friends thought were the opponent proved to be dusty coats on hangers, and each creak in the dark was brushed off as a trick of imagination. That was the only thing you could do to keep your sanity close to you as you did your candle and salt bag.
Even through her silhouette, you could see that Neda’s upright, self-assured posture had returned. The absence of the Warrior Woman seemingly gave Neda more confidence; enough confidence to suggest that you split up into pairs to find hiding places better and prevent repeats.
After you all agreed to recenter once the game was over, you paired with Neda and headed off in opposite directions.
If starting the game counted, this was the second mistake of the night.
You followed her into another abandoned office, careful not to step on scattered writing utensils and paper. Neda made a comment under her breath about a weird smell, but you shrugged in response; your nose had been stuffy all night, so you couldn’t smell much.
She made her way to the other side, and your keen eyes observed how her flame revealed the state of the room. This office seemed more rundown than the previous ones you’ve hid in: the ceiling lights were disjointed and on the verge of collapse. Cracks with invasive plant growth tracked up the white peeling walls that exposed the same lifeless gray stone underneath like in the lobby.
You weren’t sure if your mind was playing tricks on you, but right as Neda’s range of light veiled it, a mark – like the wall was slashed – spanned a foot across. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you took in the limited visuals of your environment.
Your nose tickled and you quickly muffled it to censor the sneeze. Sniffing, you shook your head.
When did it get colder?
Light creeping across the cubicle desks, you scanned the space for a hiding spot. Then one desk caught your attention.
Turning and stepping towards it, you slowly extended your arm. When you realized what you were peering at, a violent chill ran down your back.
There was a gaping brown stain that covered the gray desk, its square walls, and files. Daring to lean in closer, the light caught its dark red undertone.
Blood.
You bit back a gasp, frantically stepping back without looking where you were going. A clang echoed throughout the room as you ran into something. The gasp broke through, but a breath of slight relief followed when you only saw a locker.
“You good?” Neda asked, the glow of her candle mixing with yours as she came to check on you. You shook your head.
“Neda, what exactly happens if we get caught?” You questioned, warily looking around. She shrugged, as if it was no big deal. You looked at her like she lost her mind.
“It just said online that we lose. I’m assuming she like, tags us out or something? I don’t know.” You groaned as the looming anxiety began to spread through you again.
“Oh my God, seriously?! Look at the desk behind you! I think it’s b–” You went to warn, but your candle lights flickered. Your time to hide was running out, and it’d soon be seek mode.
Your heart quickened as the lights started to dim. A whoosh of air brushed you as your friend swiftly turned away and retreated to the back of the room, further into the darkness.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
You forgot to find a place. Eyes darting about, you scanned your surroundings. Just as racing thoughts began to shift to the salt bag in your hands, you remembered the locker behind you.
You set the candle down and creaked it open without a second thought. Piles of files stacked at the bottom, but you shoved them out onto the floor in haste. The room was growing darker each passing second and your eyes started to strain. You had seconds left to spare.
Goosebumps rose on the back of your neck when another gust of air – freezing this time – tickled you. Your survival reflexes kicked in as you snatched your dying candle from the floor, launched yourself into the locker, and closed it shut.
What the fuck. What the fuck.
The shock repeated itself over and over again in your mind as time froze. The flame you held was as small as a thimble, and its last bit of light shined on the lock from the inside. At the last second, you locked your hiding spot from the inside as the Warrior Woman plunged you into the abyss.
The place held the silence of a cemetery. The atmosphere felt ice cold and stifling. This time around felt completely different, like the seeker was around the corner. And then you heard them.
Footsteps.
Your heart hammered your eardrums so loud that you thought it would give you away. You tilted your head up, opening your airways up so when you breathed out, there was no sound.
Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.
They sounded soft and agile against the floor. No creaks in the wood like neither your nor your friends’ footsteps would have caused. And they grew closer.
Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat… Pit. Pat.
They stopped in front of your locker. You almost couldn’t breathe. Your throat felt like it was closing. Tears started to prick at the edge of your eyes.
You thought that this couldn’t possibly be real, that this was all some cruel joke that Neda was playing on all of you. You just wanted this nightmare to end. You wanted to call her out on her bullshit, and she would slap her hand against the locker while she laughed hysterically.
Crinkle.
It was a sound so small, but you heard it, and so did whoever was on the other side of the locker door. It came from the other end of the room. Like a ball of paper being stepped on. The air shifted, and your throat opened again.
Pit Pat Pit Pat Pit Pat Pit Pat.
They scattered away, following the source of the noise.
Neda is on that side–
A chair scraping against the wood floors, followed by a soft thud, cut that thought short.
Your hand clasped over your mouth, not trusting yourself to not scream in terror.
Her name was on the tip of your tongue, desperately wanting to call out to her and see if she was okay, but you didn’t want those eerie footsteps making their way to you next.
Your blindness was alleviated by your flame softly reigniting, and the chilling veil over the room was lifted. It took everything in you to unlock and step out of the locker. You observed your surroundings, but everything on your end seemed to be unchanged.
But you noticed something was missing: Neda’s candlelight.
Your heart stilled as it seemed to realize what that meant, but your mind actively denied it.
“Neda, can you just quit it already? I don’t want to play anymore.” You whispered out. The still darkness answered.
Mustering the little courage you had left in that moment, you cautiously made your way to the other side where you heard the noise. You didn’t stop until you reached the cubicle at the very end of a row. The chair was pulled out instead of tucked in like the others.
Extending your arm away from you to further inspect it, the light caught something that glistened on the arm rest. It was dark and wet.
Against your better judgment, your finger swiped it and brought the liquid closer to the flame.
The blood drained from your face when you recognized the red stain. Your eyes fell down to the chair, and there was more. Droplets of red trailed down the chair’s leg, across the mahogany floor, to connect to a spreading pool right under the desk…
Where an unlit candle and bag of salt lay.
Your flame shook, not on its own, but because you were shaking from the horrific sight of a limp hand peeking from under the table.
“N-Neda…” You crouched slowly to see – to confirm your worst fear.
Her head was slumped to the side – as if she was taking a nap. But rivers of red tears cascaded from her eye sockets like she cried blood; where her deep brown orbs once were, now remained punctured and deflated oozing flesh. Her mouth was agape, but she never got to scream. Her stomach bled and blood flowed like a stream into the red lake on the wooden floor.
A scream burst from the depths of your core and you scrambled backwards, the sight a shock to your system. Tears you held back broke loose and you couldn’t stop the sobbing that followed.
She found out exactly what happened if she lost. She lost her life.
You only had a few seconds to recollect yourself. Time was of the essence, and you needed to make it out of here alive. Sniffling and frantically wiping your eyes, you whimpered a prayer to your fallen friend as you took her bag of salt; you needed all the protection you could get.
The second you stepped out of the office, your stomach lurched with a force that made you double over, ejecting all of its contents onto the hallway floor.
After wiping your mouth with your pajama sleeve, you began walking down the hallway. As you navigated the corridors on your own, the image of Neda’s last moments with you flashed across your mind like a slideshow, always ending with her blood-streaked face.
2:47 A.M.
You had been hiding and walking on your own for what you felt like was forever. You underestimated the size of this building, for you had yet to run into Serai and Yonawan.
Sometimes the Warrior Woman would pass by with her light barefoot footsteps, sometimes you’d only hear a clang of metal down the hall, and other times there’d be nails scraping against the wall.
Chanting to yourself that this was all a nightmare, and that you would wake next to Neda’s sleeping figure when the sun rose was all that kept you from losing your mind.
Then why were you hiding and waiting on bated breath as if your life depended on it?
You’d only answer that after you woke and made sense of this night terror.
A flicker in the distance caught your sharp eyes that were adjusted to pitch blackness. A glimmer of hope shined within you as that distant light could only mean one thing: Serai and Yonawan were alive.
Picking up speed rapidly, you rushed to the end of the hall to conjoin your candlelights. They heard your steps and frantically turned around in fear, only to relax and welcome you warmly.
“Oh my God Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here! We’ve started hearing strange noises and seeing moving things in the dark, and–and there was even scraping metal l-like a m-machete or a sword or something and–”
“Where’s Neda?” Yonawan cut through Serai’s rambling. The skittish one’s eyes widened and looked around you as if Neda was hiding behind to surprise them. Your body started to tremble as you squeezed your eyes shut and dropped your head; the images you fought off for the past hour were bombarding you in waves.
“I-Is that… blood on your shoes?” Your eyes shot open at Serai’s question. With three flames burning bright, it was easier to see the reminder of her demise on the side of your light sneaker; you must have gotten them when you scrambled back in shock. You bit back a sob.
“Sh-She lost…” You couldn’t say it out loud, but they quickly put two and two together to understand what that meant, and how serious this game actually was.
Serai started to wail. Yonawan barely caught her when her knees gave out, struggling to keep both their candles upright. She tried to comfort her, but her own trembling voice was crumbling her resolve.
We don’t have time for this. Was all that your mind echoed.
“You guys, I know, I know. But we need to find another spot, or we’re fucking next.” Your voice cracked as your desperation seeped through.
Then you felt it again – the chill. It crawled from behind you and tickled the back of your ankles like a slithering snake, warning you that terror was on its way. She’s coming.
Flames became smaller right after. You wasted no time. You sent your last command to them to find somewhere to hide, then you swiftly found your own place.
The abyss surrounded you once again, stilling your breath. You were not far from where you left them, and you could still hear their whimpers of panic and shuffling to lay down their last line of defense: the salt rings.
You prayed. The hardest you’ve ever prayed before. Your mind could not take seeing another friend slaughtered. Even if you won the game and escaped, your sanity would not make it out alive.
A long, haunting sound of metal being dragged against the wall outside of the room sliced through your prayer. It was like she was toying with you all, tormenting your psyche before delivering you to your maker in the most brutal way possible.
Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Pit… Pat.
There was a pause before you heard it. You thought you were mistaken, but you heard it.
The Warrior Woman kissed her teeth.
Squelch. Thud.
A shudder racked through you as a muffled squeal pierced your ears.
Someone’s dead. It happened again. I can’t survive this.
You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing hot tears to escape and trickle down your face. Her footsteps retreated back into the hallway, and as you heard the last one, your candle relit. You crawled out from under your space and crept your way to the center of the dark room.
The scene broke your heart.
The translucent grains were crooked, yet traced around her. Except when you inspected closely, there was a gap in her circle and you understood how Yonawan lost: her salt circle was incomplete.
A blood curdling scream left Serai. So loud that its sound waves flickered your flame. Her face, chest, and legs were splattered with your dear friend’s blood, and at your feet she lay.
Eyes popped. Throat slashed. Blood seeping into wood.
“I-I don’t get it! She made the damn circle!” Her cries grew furious. She slammed her bag on the ground and you jumped. “I don’t want to play anymore, I don’t give a fuck what the rules say!”
You knelt down to her and grabbed her face, slightly smearing drops of blood together while trying to grab her slipping attention.
“You have to stay in the circle, or else you’ll be next.” Her eyes flickered to Yonawan’s gazeless expression. Your grip on her face tightened to avert her gaze. She has to remain next to her dead best friend for the next few hours. No matter how dark it is, she will always see her last cruel moments.
You peeped at your watch: 2:50 A.M.. Your head turned toward the door and you noticed the room across the hall.
“I need to find a hiding spot in the room across. I’ll come back if I have time!” You tried assuring her, but Serai grasped the roots of her braids as if she wanted to yank them out of her scalp. She collapsed to her knees and began to rock back and forth; her mind was slipping away from her, fast. But you just didn’t have time.
Throwing affirmations behind you to her that everything will be fine, you hurried off to the other room in search of a safe place. Once you secured one, you stepped back out into the hallway.
You froze. It was quick, a quarter of a second, but you knew what you felt.
An ice cold hand brushed against your back, and a contrasting warm breath tickled your ear.
You felt the Warrior Woman behind you in that short moment, then her presence was gone as if she never came.
“Y/N? Why aren’t you moving?” Serai whimpered out to you, but you made no move or sound. Your feet were glued to the floor, your breath was stuck in your throat. Your stomach twisted in a thousand knots as you pictured yourself meeting the ghost’s blade if you dared to take another step.
Your light flickered. That was your only queue to move. It felt too soon. The time to hide seemed to get shorter with each death.
“I need to hide!” You whispered to her, but she only answered in hysterics. It’s not like it mattered for her to stay silent anyways when she had lost. You slinked back into the room and hid, almost not making it when the candle died out.
You waited for the footsteps and they came.
Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.
You anticipated them wandering into your room, but they grew distant instead. They were going to Serai. Your face scrunched in confusion.
Why is she going to Serai? She lost already, she should be coming for me!
The whimpering across the hall started to form into coherent words, and someone else’s voice answered in a low, soft tone that sounded doubled. Alarm bells went off in your head. You squeezed your eyes shut, though you couldn’t see anyways, to listen closely.
“...M-Mama? Is that you?” Your eyes shot open, despite pitch black staring back at you. There was no way any of your parents are here. Absolutely no way.
Warrior, warrior try to trick me, and see if I am witty.
That cursed line from the chant echoed in your mind. This was a trick. You were dying to scream that revelation out to save her, but you couldn’t. Not without giving up your location. So you sat still and hopeless, simply praying Serai had enough sense to stay within the safety of her salt circle.
There was no confirmation to the girl’s question, only this loud silence; that’s all this place was filled with. Mind-bending stillness that muffled your eardrums and blocked out even the sound of your own heartbeat. Never knowing if you were alive, or a roaming ghost with memories of your demise forgotten.
The time of her seeking seemed to be longer than the rest, and you couldn’t bring yourself to check your digital watch.
Seek time was soon over, and your personal space glowed, but your breathing didn’t return yet. You were waiting for any sign of her being alive. A whimper, a cry, a murmur. Anything.
Alas, the only sound you heard was your lonely heartbeat.
Your legs shook as you stood and tears spilled with a tiny plop against the wooden floor. You dragged your feet out into the hallway and stood at the door where your late friends resided. Legs giving out, you slid down the corridor wall.
You were all alone in this cursed building. Alone with an entity that sought out for your demise in this sick game of hide and go seek. Flipping your wrist over, you read the time: 3:00 A.M..
You couldn’t stop now. You survived for three hours, so you can survive thirty-three minutes more. New determination settled within you on top of the fear, grief, and guilt that built up throughout the night, and you stood, albeit shakily.
You may not have the skills of an Agojie warrior, or the supernatural powers of a haunting ghost, but you damn sure had enough willpower and wit that had gotten you this far in the game.
You had to win, not only for yourself, but for your friends.
You lifted your chin and grasped your salt bags. With one last huff, you started down the hall.
3:27 A.M.
The game was almost over, and you could feel the Warrior Woman’s competitive restlessness in the atmosphere; the seek times were longer, and your time to hide was shorter. The sounds echoing off the walls through the halls grew frequent and jarring, like she wanted to coax a squeal or whimper out of you that would leave you compromised and at her mercy.
The closer the nightmare was drawing to a close, the greater your anxiety became. Your legs were sore and they screamed with each fast step you took. Your pajamas were drenched in cold sweat, and the slightest increase in heart rate gave you dizzy spells. It was like this place, this situation, this being, was slowly draining your energy.
However, there were signs that you were not alone. Your flame burned brighter, and you could see things in the dark now that you couldn’t earlier in the night. You liked to think that it was your friends’ spirits that were helping you on this journey to the finish line, making sure you would leave alive and victorious.
Whether or not that was true, the thought motivated you enough to cling onto the last sands of sanity you had left, because you felt that you were leaving a grainy trail behind everywhere you ventured.
3:28 A.M.
Five minutes now. Shadows cast on the walls began to shrink, slowly hiding behind their source objects before you could hide yourself.
You duck into the last room at the end of the hall: a conference room. You avoided these because there was never a place you could find; hiding under a long table was too obvious.
The candlelight reflected off a flatscreen TV at the end of the room and it caught your eye – or rather, what was under it caught your attention. There was a medium-sized vent.
You were over there in seconds, kneeling down and inspecting the steel entrance. It was half-off the wall at its screws, but you’d have to make it work.
The scope of the room closed in on you as you struggled to yank it off, the door popping off the hinges every other desperate pull.
“Come on come on, fuck!” You cursed under your breath. Adrenaline rushed through you as the ominous abyss began to crawl down the wall, over the TV, and to the top of the vent’s entrance.
Finally, with a clank, the door popped off. You flew in feet first and frantically propped the door up, as if it would shield you from the horror that roamed the hallways of Dahomey Rising Inc.
Your haggard, strained breath was all you could hear as you took in your metallic, dusty surroundings. A stinging sensation rose under your nails and in your fingers, and you looked down at them, realizing that your hands were cut up stained with your blood.
The dying glow seethed through the horizontal gaps of the vent, imprinting stripes onto your face and hands, and your head shot up.
Squinting through the weighing darkness of the vent, you saw your candle… outside the vent.
You were bleeding and you left your things outside, which means you left red, damning evidence of where you were hiding.
You finally felt what Serai did before her last moments: mind-numbing despair.
You dug your nails into your scalp, ignoring the sting of castor oil to your cut fingers. You wanted to scream until your throat was raw, hoping that the echo would be carried through the metallic walls of the vent to every room and hallway of the building, and the Warrior Woman would find you faster to take you out of your misery.
3:30
Your line of sight has been pitch black for a minute. The only sound other than your weary heart and shuddering breath, was your tears that clinked against the metal of the vent. You didn’t bother to stop the fallen tears with your bloody palms. She was going to find you anyway.
A chill ran down your back. You knew all too well what that meant at this point. Head dropping in defeat, you prayed that she would make it a quick death.
3:31
The scrape of her machete was first, then the footsteps trailed after.
The wood floor vibrated as she moved a chair out, then another chair, and another. She was looking under the table.
3:32
Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat… Pit. Pat.
A scrape against the wall, right over the entrance, over your head.
The air was thick and stifling, squeezing at your throat. The urge to cough was terrible, so you held your breath for what may be the very last time. Then you heard her,
“I found you.”
You pushed your hands down and quickly slid yourself further into the vent as a gush of chilled air whipped around you when the door violently flung open. You could see nothing but you could feel everything that was happening.
A sling and clack of a slicing machete echoed in the vent as you felt her take a swing at your neck; it missed you by a hair and it hit the wall instead, sending ignited sparks of flying yellow in the enclosed space.
Terror ran through your core and you slipped on your own blood every time you scooted yourself away from your assailant.
“Please, no!” You begged, but she swung and missed, then swung again and nicked your cheek. Each swing held the intent of taking your life, just like it did your friends.
I don’t want to die here.
“STOP!”
Silence.
Like your command was respected. But your flame was still out. Sweat and tears soaked your face, and you buried your head in your hands, adding your blood to the mix. You just laid there, violently shaking and silently sobbing.
When you realized that you heard no other voices than your own, you dared to turn over your bruising hand to check the time, wiping the blood from the screen: 3:35 A.M.
“I won.” The meek victorious statement fell through your lips with disbelief. You scrambled out of the vent and fished your phone from your back pocket, smashing the power button. After a reflection of a happier you stared back, you pressed the flashlight button and observed the scene.
Your bloody handprints were smeared on the wall, abandoned vent door, and wooden floor. The slice marks were marked over your imprints, like she had the utmost confidence that she would get you. You kissed your teeth.
Picking up the burnt candle and salt bags, you ran out of the room and hastily made your way to the lobby. You had more than enough of this godforsaken building.
As you passed room after room, the moon came out from hiding behind the clouds and illuminated your path down the corridor. You still kept your flashlight on though.
You were almost free, you could practically taste it. Barging through those double-doors into the air you felt familiar with would give you all the relief you needed to survive for the rest of your life.
But when you turned the last corner that led to the lobby, a looming figure blocked the entrance to freedom.
You tripped and almost fell when you skidded to a halt.
There she stood, barefoot and dressed in traditional warrior-like clothing you’ve only seen in Benin’s history books growing up. Scars drawn into her neck and arms, and hands browning from drying sangria red, a machete – dripping with the fresh blood of her conquered opposition – was clutched loosely in her hand.
There stood an entity that lost to you, but had a smile that curled her lips as if she had won something better.
Your capacity to fear had been reached. Your face grew hot, and all you could feel was rage.
“I fucking won! It’s after 3:33 A.M.!” You desperately showed the time to her on your phone’s screen, hoping she could see it from where she stood, because you’d be damned if you stepped any closer to her.
She nodded, “That it is.” Her voice sounded normal, and somehow that made you more unsettled.
“So that means you lose, so fuck off!” You screamed. She chuckled and put her hands behind her back, taking languid steps forward. You gasped and took several back in response, hitting your back against the reception desk.
Why the fuck is she coming closer?!
“That is true, I lost. But that doesn’t mean I go away. It just means I deem you worthy.”
Warrior, warrior be open to losing, and deem me worthy.
That chant will haunt you for the rest of your life.
You dropped the bags and candle and gripped the desk. You took a deep breath before you asked what she meant.
“Deem me worthy of what?” She didn’t answer right away, she just inched closer, and it drove you mad. By the smirk on her face, she enjoyed every second of it. Making you wait in anticipation, watching your anxiety bubble and boil over while you squirm waiting for her next move. Now that you think about it, she did that in the very beginning when she lit all of your candles for the first time.
You felt her warm breath on your face, the same breath you thought you imagined before. You kept your breathing small so your chest didn’t touch hers. You thought the slightest graze would compel her to merge into your body and possess you as hers.
“My protection… for the rest of your days.” Your lungs stuttered.
The game ended and you won, but the reward – more like curse – would last you till the end of time. There was no true winner.
“You invested a drop of blood to me,” Her crusted bloody hand rose to the cheek she nicked earlier, and you flinched away as the pain radiated with her close proximity. She paused for a moment before touching the area. “And now not another drop will hit the ground as long as I am loyally in your corner.”
Ice cold lips planted a kiss on the bleeding cut and you felt it seal, eliminating the aching pain. Your mind whirled as oxygen left you and you felt faint. Your phone slipped out of your hands, and within the blink of an eye, an arm snaked around your waist as your knees buckled.
The flashlight cast upwards onto both of your faces. Dark, hypnotizing orbs pierced through you while you fought to keep your eyes open. You started to squirm with the last inkling of energy you had left, but it was so difficult.
She gently shushed your whimpering and held you closer to her, caressing your sweaty face.
“Do not fear, you have me now. I know you are exhausted,” She connected her forehead with yours, her breath brushing over your lips. You became more limp by the second. Her strong suggestion to give in was working. “You played so well with me.”
You allowed your eyelids to droop, and the last thing you saw were her empty mahogany pupils that flashed red when she commanded, “Now rest.”
You woke up to the sun gleaming through the glass windows into the empty lobby. Groaning as you felt every aching pain in your overexerted body, you felt around for your phone. You sat up and rubbed your face, then you froze.
Eyes and hands frantic and searching, you found and picked up your cell. You pressed the camera button on the lock screen, and your eyes widened:
You stared back, evidence of a living nightmare survived with a tear-streaked face, dark undereyes, and blood stains.
And there was one key feature that gave you solidified proof of this horrendous experience that you would never part from.
The scar on your left cheek kissed better by the Warrior Woman.
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!!! I haven't posted in a while since I'm busy with my last uni semester and graduate admission stuff (I'll catch up on stuff I missed, I promise). This will be my last fanfic I'll post for a while because I want to refocus my writing on a novel I've been working on. I hope y'all are having a good Valentine's Day so far! <3
Word Count: 6.3k
Contains: Ion wanna spoil it but mentions of blood.
I usually don’t believe people when they claim to love me.
Of course, I put on a pleasant smile and return the sentiment, just to avoid conflict. But disdain, spreading like mold at the bottom of my heart, stings my chest with each heartbeat.
People throw such a sacred word around so easily, not even really meaning it. It only breeds expectations that they know they’ll never come close to meeting, leaving the recipient of said flippant love in shambles when their actions say otherwise.
I’ve been hurt a few times, and disappointed a million more. I’ve always loved people way more than they loved me. Exes would accuse me of “doing too much” when really they were just insecure that they were doing too little. And they were. They were incapable of loving, yet somehow it was my fault.
To feel love for someone – not that surface-level honeymoon fluffy bullshit that people chase after – but that type of love that weighs on your soul every time you think of, speak about, and talk to your person is what I want, what I deserve. Because if I’m capable of not only feeling it but giving it as well, someone out there has to be on the same wavelength as me.
It may be intense for some, but that’s the only way I know how to love. The only way I know I’m alive and living. Just human.
And now, I’ve been shot with Cupid’s bow once again. This time for my best friend, Izogie.
We’ve been friends for two years now, but it feels like we’ve known each other for decades. She listens to me, like really listens, and she cares about what I’m talking about. Even bringing it up days later when I’d forgotten the conversation. She shows up for me too, like right now.
Blood-stained water flowed into the drain of our self-car wash section. I had hit and ran over an animal on my way home, and I felt too queasy to wash the blood off my car myself, so I called her. Not even twenty minutes later, she pulled up to the nearest car wash and took over.
“What kind of animal was it?” She asks, aiming the high-pressure hose over my tires now. The red filth peels off smoothly under her precision. “‘Cause that thing really left a mark.” I shrug,
“No idea. I was too scared to look! But the thing was pretty big by the way it slammed into my car.” I look down at my shoes, grimacing at small animal chunks that float down the miniature stream. A chuckle from her tore my gaze away, wondering what was so funny. Her eyes were on me and a smile curved her lips.
“You are too cute sometimes, Fei, I swear.”
Smile brighter than the sun. Laugh as sweet as sugar. Eyes that twinkle like stars. Embraces that make my heart soar. That’s my Izogie.
I purse my lips and look away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction that she could make me cheese with the smallest of compliments. She probably already knows though.
Once there were no more red specks on my car, and thankfully she found no dents to fix either, I gave her a grateful embrace in exchange for her help. She never asks me for anything in return, even though I would give her the world if she let me. She’s told me she loves me plenty of times, and out of all the people who’ve uttered those words to me, I believe her the most.
The sun hits my hand that’s on the top of the steering wheel as I press the gas. Leaving the car wash section, I peep in my rearview mirror to see Izogie standing next to her car, waving see you later. My heart tickled at the sight of her grin, yet it hurt for me to smile.
The slightest chance she might not love me the way I love her will be enough to freeze my heart over.
~~~
“Oh my gosh, these are so beautiful!” I gush, admiring the vibrant hues of the bouquet that I picked up from my doorstep. As I unravel them from the plastic wrap, a small pink envelope drops onto the kitchen island.
“Ooh, a letter!” My fingertips buzz with excitement as I set the bouquet to the side. Izogie picks them up and looks for a vase while I tear open the letter. The feel of sturdy parchment twisted the ends of my lips up. And it’s not even flimsy notebook paper.
Folding it open, I begin to read the penned letter:
Dear Feimata,
You are the center of my world, and my love orbits around you.
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
The more I read that short, sweet sentence, the hotter my face became. I’m the center of someone’s world. The darkness of doubt attempts to overshadow my mind, but my joy is shining too bright this time around. I will enjoy this moment for what it is—no need to dig deep and overanalyze like I usually do. I don’t know who this person is anyway.
“Their handwriting sucks,” my best friend plainly criticizes as she peeps over my shoulder. I whip my head to her, holding the letter to my chest in offense.
“Zo, don’t be mean! It’s the effort that counts,” I read it a few times over, taking note of the pen strokes of each letter. “If you’re jealous, just say that.”
She scoffs, shoving her hands into her sweats, “Nothing to be jealous of. I’m not going anywhere regardless of who you date.”
Be still my beating heart.
“Really? What if I like them so much that they take up all my time?” I challenge. She leans on the counter and looks me up and down.
“Oh, trust me, you won’t,” she smirks. My shocked expression at her confidence pushed her to elaborate. “You’re not the abandon-my-friends-while-I’m-in-love type at all. I know you, Fei.”
And then my heart aches. Because she doesn’t really know me. Not all of me. And now I feel bitter all over again without even meaning to.
I fight to keep my smile from falling, but she could feel my energy change. She places a hand on my shoulder, “Sorry, did I upset you?” She’s even attentive when it’s not in my favor.
I shake my head, “N-No. I’m just wondering if this person is… safe?” I lie to avert her attention. She raises an eyebrow and asks what I mean.
“Like, if they’re not like a stalker or something. Because they know where I live, it was on my doorstep.” I explain, jutting the letter to the door.
When I look back at her, I catch a peculiar expression flash across her face. Before I can decipher it, her thick eyebrows furrow in worry, and the hand on my shoulder brings me closer.
“If you’re scared, I can stay here for a few days,” she offers, caressing my sides to soothe me, but all the touch is doing is lighting a flame within me. “I have renovators coming by my place tomorrow anyways so it’ll be unlivable for a while.”
It’s not like she hasn’t slept over before, but this time feels different. She wants to stay to protect me, to make me feel safe. The thought of waking up together for the next few days sends my heart soaring, and I can’t help but lean into her embrace.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure! If I’m not at my place, I’m over here,” I feel her laughter vibrate in her chest. “I practically live here already!”
I laugh as well and my arms wrap around her. I feel her head on top of mine and I sigh. It’s moments like this that I want to last a lifetime. The feelings that rise within me are indescribable, but the closest word I can search for is home.
“Thanks, Zo.”
After our classes, we return to my place with her duffel bag of essentials. The clatter of her setting up her things in my bathroom could be heard from where I was preparing our dinner in the kitchen. I then hear her call out to me from my bedroom’s doorway.
“I tried to put my things in your closet, but it’s locked.” The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and my hand stirring the pot falters.
Without looking back, I answer, “Oh, that closet is filled to the brim with junk, use the closet on the other side instead.” I feel her stare on my back linger before it fades away. A breath of relief escapes my lips when I hear the shuffling sounds resume. That was close.
I fix up our plates and we move to the living room to eat and watch our shows. While we enjoyed our meal and shared laughs, I let my mind imagine how this is exactly what it would be like if we were together.
I gaze at the side of her face as she leans forward toward the TV, immersed in whatever action scene is taking place. Studying her side profile, my eyes trail down her toned arms to her hands.
My hand itches to intertwine with hers. I search for an excuse to do so, but really, I don’t need one. We’ve cuddled a handful of times already, another session wouldn’t hurt.
Before my mind could psych me out, I lay my head on her shoulder and slipped my hand in hers. I feel her jump, but she recovers quickly and lies back on the sofa so we’re comfortable.
With my cheek pressed against her shoulder and my thumb caressing her hand, my focus is long gone from the movie playing. The shouts and sound effects fade into the background, growing muffled in my ears. My vision zeros in on a blue beaded bracelet that encloses her wrist, making my peripheral blurry.
She’s never worn that before.
“Fei?” Her voice brings me back and I lift my head to look at her.
“… yeah?”
“Did you hear me? I said, ‘Ash and I made each other a friendship bracelet to celebrate 20 years.’”
Oh. Ashanti. Her childhood friend.
“Oh…” I look down and fiddle with the flimsy bracelet that spelled out the girl’s name, wrestling with the urge to rip it off. “How cute!”
I could no longer stay seated on the couch. I had to get up and do something or I was going to cry. And there’s no reason to cry. They’ve been thick as thieves since forever, and it’s normal to celebrate. But that’s not stopping the burning in my throat and the stinging in my eyes.
I feel so fucking selfish wanting her all to myself, but a part of me doesn’t care.
I gently unravel myself from her hold and scoop up both our plates from the table. I walk into the kitchen and deposit them into the sink, then grab a sponge to clean.
If I look up over the counter that borders the living room from the kitchen, I would surely meet her dark orbs, but I don’t. And she doesn’t ask me what’s wrong, though I know she wants to.
The shrill sound of the faucet running drowns out my thoughts, and I scrub away the fragments of my desires as my fantasy of unbridled love circles down the drain.
~~~
“Fei, you have another gift from your stalker!” She calls out into my apartment as she enters.
My feet hit the ground in excitement, and I’m scurrying to the front door. I grab them from her hands when she’s just barely locked the door behind her and make my way to the kitchen. She laughs at my enthusiasm, commenting on how cute I am.
They’re roses this time. The corners of my pillowy lips turn up, and I can feel my eyes brighten. I take them out of the plastic, but when my fingers wrap around the bouquet’s stems, I wince.
Peeling my hand away, red oozes from the cuts of my inflicted wounds. In seconds, she’s by my side and inspecting the damage, grumbling about how careless someone would have to be to leave thorns on roses.
The tiny sounds of sangria droplets hitting the bright white-gray marble kitchen counter tickle my eardrums, and any pain I felt before ceases from my senses as euphoria washes over me.
Izogie wraps a paper towel around my hand, then stops to look at me.
“Fei… are you alright?” She puts her hand on my back, and that’s what finally takes me out of my trance-like state. I nod my head, gently closing my fist around the red splotchy paper towel. “Then why are you smiling?”
The question made my face fall. My eyes dart across her expression, and its the same one like the other day. Her overall demeanor seems concerned, but her slightly widened dark orbs are saying something else. But I can’t quite place it.
“No, I…” my voice trails off. I don’t have an answer, not one that makes sense to the average person, so I shift my attention to the red envelope instead. Using my free hand, my fingers skillfully open and fish out the letter:
Dear Feimata,
You are like a rose.
Your petal-like beauty is ever enchanting, and your love is all-consuming to the point it might pierce my skin.
But I’ll only hold tighter and embrace the pain of your thorns.
Till now and forever,
Your Secret Admirer
An itch catches in my throat, ripping me into a coughing fit. Her hand pats my back until I take a sip of water from a glass nearby.
Izogie takes the note and reads it. A scoff leaves her lips, and she flicks it onto the counter, as if it was some wretched thing.
“This is just getting weird now,” she says with a disapproving shake of her head. I couldn’t block the pang that ached my heart fast enough.
“It’s not weird!” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. Her eyebrows furrow, and then she fully turns to me.
“You’re literally bleeding right now.”
“Maybe they were just in a rush and forgot to cut them off?” I peel off the bloody paper towel to see that the bleeding stopped. I hold my hand up to show her, but she only gulps.
“By the note she wrote, it seemed intentional.”
Right. It does. But I can’t bring myself to think of this… strange gesture as weird. If anything, I feel more inclined to defend it.
“But even if it is… she seems the most real about her feelings for me than anyone I’ve ever met, despite not showing her face,” my voice trails off as I keep my eyes glued to the folded letter.
A few beats of silence pass, and I muster the courage to look at her from the corner of my eye.
Her own gaze was glued to the same paper, her nail idly scratching against the kitchen counter, her mind cleary being in a different place. She thinks I’m crazy. Surely she does.
Before my mind could send me down a rabbit hole of self-loathing, she murmurs, “... most real, huh?”
My eyebrows jump in surprise. Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, and her eyes shift from my pricked palm to the thorny roses, barely blinking. There’s no way.
“You jealous, Zo?” I tease her, my lips quirking up into a smirk. Like a deer caught in headlights, she finally meets my narrowing gaze. Her usual smile returns and she playfully rolls her eyes.
“As if I could be jealous of some,” she waves her hand dismissively towards the flowers, “obviously tortured poet. Who does she think she is? Edgar Allen Poe?”
I giggle, glancing between the thorns, my palm, and her. “Well, he’s my favorite poet, so that’s probably why I don’t find her strange– wait,” I pause and cross my arms, “since when did we establish that this person was a she?”
She blinked a few times then shrugs casually, “Well, the handwriting is too pretty.” I purse my lips, not fully convinced that that’s the reason she thinks my secret admirer is a woman.
“Zo, if you saw my secret admirer, you’d tell me who it was, right?” I ask. It was her turn to cross her arms.
“If I knew her, him, them, whatever, I’d have already left here to give them a piece of my mind,” she takes my hand, and my heart skips several beats. “Let’s get you patched up.”
~~~
I’m holding the first two letters in each hand, my eyes darting back and forth between them.
There’s something so off about these, but for the life of me I can’t figure it out. It’s making my scalp itch.
I set them both down on either side of the 3rd letter that I picked up earlier on my doorstep. They wrote in red this time, and it came in a black envelope. Each letter inscribed and stained into the parchment paper seemed like they were pressed in with growing frenzy, each stroke straying from its usual poised and curved style:
Dear Feimata,
My limitless love for you is bursting at the seams, and each passing day it gets harder to contain, because I’m afraid this intensity will only scare you away.
But I feel it eating away at me, and my good sense slips with each breath you take away from me. I can only hope you can accept me as I am.
Till my last breath,
Your Secret Admirer
The words float around my head, replacing any original thought. I try to continue to decipher each message, down to each word, letter, and pen stroke, but my attention keeps being pulled to my admirer’s choice of flowers on my desk.
Red vibrant roses, but bleeding black seeped into the tips of every petal, like their love came with a touch of darkness. Of mania.
“Fei, what’s taking you so long? We’re gonna be late!” Her voice calls from the kitchen, making me jump in my seat. I hastily open my drawer and shove the flowers inside. When I take one last look at the letters before stashing them away as well, my eyes widen.
It’s the handwriting. The first letter’s handwriting is different from the last two.
The door swings open and I shut the drawer. Spinning around in my swivel chair, I smile sheepishly at Izogie, hoping my charm will get me out of a lecture about tardiness. The roll of her eyes and beckoning gestures let me know it worked, but the next words out of her mouth sinks my rising mood, “Ashanti is waiting.”
Fuck her. Like literally, fuck her. Fuck her!
I press my lips together to suppress a quivering scowl. Afraid that my attitude will lace my tone for the next few minutes, I silently walk past her and approach my front door. Her footsteps follow me with the same silence all the way to her car.
The place Ashanti picked for our “Galentine’s” date was pure shit. A stuffy club with drunk, clumsy people stumbling into each other while flailing around (dancing).
Izogie had gone to the bathroom, and I could no longer smooth out the irritation wrinkling in between my eyebrows. Ashanti sat with her elbows on the table next to me, her chin resting on her palms as she looked at me, amusement etched on her full features.
“Not your scene?” She asks, her voice struggling to be louder than the bass of the club. I grimace at some woman spilling her drink on the floor near us and huff. Ashanti giggles and my frown deepens. “I guess that’s my answer.”
I open my mouth, then close it. There’s nothing really for me to say that would ease the tension between us. Not that I care enough to fix it in the first place.
“What are your plan’s for Valentine’s Day?” She tries again. This girl is persistent as hell. I close my eyes for a few seconds, hiding the fact that they’re rolling hard before I answer.
“I don’t know. The same thing I do every other day, I guess.” I reply, not bothering to overcome the grating volume of this place, which only made her lean closer to me to the point her shoulder was touching mine. She was close enough to where I could smell cheap, fruity beer on her breath. I look down and see her matching friendship bracelet with Izogie’s name spelled out in the beads.
My fingers clench tightly around my half-empty glass, visions of me smashing it against her head right in the middle of this club flashing across my mind.
I put the glass to my red, plump lips and take a swig of the cocktail instead. I’m too sober to deal with this shit alone.
Then something warm slides onto the skin of my thigh. I glance down, eyes narrowing to see better under the strobe of colorful lights, then they bulge in disgust. It’s her hand.
I take another swig – bigger this time – before I go to chew her out, but she beats me to it.
“How can such a sexy girl like yourself not have a Valentine?” She purrs in my ear. I freeze and look around for Izogie’s figure amongst the crowd. What the fuck is taking her so long?!
I put my drink down slowly and turn to her, leaning back a bit to create some distance.
“I – I don’t… What is this even?” I stammer, both confused and nauseated. I breathe a sigh of relief when she takes her hand off my lap, only for it to hitch in my throat when she cups my hand on the table.
“I’ll just be frank here. I think you’re pretty hot, and I was wondering if you’d let me make your Valentine’s Day worthwhile?” Her manicured thumbnail caressing my soft, dark skin makes me want to rip them off her nail bed.
I take a deep breath. Calm yourself. I gaze at her again.
“What is love to you?” My question makes her smize falter, caught off-guard by my serious demeanor. She recovers quickly though, now smiling confidently like she is going to give her favorite teacher the right answer to a math question.
“Love to me is a strong, pleasurable emotion that you feel towards someone and waste no time in acting on it, of course!” She leans in again. “Which is what I’m doing right now, so I love ya, I guess haha!”
My face deapans. I guess.
“Such a primal response, which I expected. You’re really no different from an animal.” The venom in my words makes her recoil in shock. Unfazed, I down the rest of my drink and grab my purse. Fuck this bitch, fuck this club, fuck this night.
Ashanti’s offended shrieks are drowned out by the music and hollering club-goers as I strut towards the exit. A hand grabs my forearm and I yank it out of their grip on instinct, only to find out it was Izogie.
Her dark eyes were wide with concern, and her lips moved – probably asking me what happened. Not in the mood to scream a retelling of the last 5 minutes, I shake my head and slip through the crowd and out of the club.
It wasn’t until I got to her car that I remembered she had the keys.
“For fuck’s sake!” I shout, kicking my heel into her tire. With the cool night air, I can now feel the boiling under my skin from the rage and alcohol. My breath becomes labored the more I replay this terrible night.
Just as I was about to request a Lyft, the club doors opened and Izogie marched out. Ashanti stumbled out not too long after. I put my phone down and watched from the side of her car so they couldn’t see me.
Ashanti grabbed her arm and spun her around, clearly drunk and out of her mind. I can only see Izogie’s back, but from her rigid shoulders and clenched fists, I can tell that she’s pissed. Then she jabs an accusing finger into Ashanti’s chest, and the utter shock that ripples across the latter’s face gives me a sickening, gleeful feeling.
Ashanti’s mouth drops lower the more words – that I can’t hear from where I’m standing – Izogie says, then she leaves her there in the middle of the parking lot distraught. I come out from the side of the car, and watch how my friend’s scorned expression turns into one of relief.
She starts to jog towards me, and the emotions I’ve kept down all night rise up to the surface. The wordless hug she envelops me in coaxes tears from my eyes and I fully surrender in her embrace, feeling like everything is right again now that it’s just us.
“Let’s go home, yeah?” She suggests, caressing the top of my braided head. I nod.
Yes… home.
~~~
It’s now officially Valentine’s Day, and I haven’t heard from Izogie in seven fucking hours. She always texts back no matter how busy she is; She’s co-captain of the track team at our university and is a STEM major, yet she always finds time to shoot me a text, no matter how short.
I pace my messy room, littered with rejected dresses and jewelry that just weren’t good enough for our date.
Yes, a date. Not a date-date that I would’ve imagined, but it is so damn close.
I cried and poured out my true feelings about how I didn’t like – hated Ashanti on that ride back to my apartment. How she came onto me and how disgusted I felt. How I just wanted her fucking gone.
I watched Izogie grip the steering wheel in anger – not at me, of course, but at her best friend of 20 years. She looked betrayed and I didn’t understand, but I didn’t dig deeper to find out why. I was just happy she was picking my side. And even happier when she said she’d take me out on a date to make up for “Galentine’s Gate” on Valentine’s Day.
Now I’m in my underwear, make-up done, hair picked out in an afro, damn near biting my gelled nails hard enough for the paint to peel off.
“Where could she be, where could she be?” I murmur over and over to myself. A lightbulb flickers on in my mind and I dash across my room. Scooping up my phone, I swipe and tap to the location app; she constantly has her location on for me.
My gut twists in agony as the buffer wheel by her name spins, taking its time to update her last reported location. Once it finally updates, my stomach drops.
Her last updated location was three hours ago, at her apartment.
Her phone has been switched off for three hours.
Is she trying to hide the fact that she’s there with Ashanti?
My grip tightens around my phone as my sight blurs with salty tears. Dark thoughts surge onto the shores of my mind like ocean waves, overtaking and whisking away every rational grain of sand with it.
A new, numbing feeling is left, and I sit up straight. Slowly turning my head to my locked closet, I stare at the rusted knob. I lift myself off the bed and walk over to my drawer, sliding it open. I take out the letters, flowers, and the key to the closet.
Trudging to the closet with everything in hand, I unlock it. I’m greeted with darkness at first, then I flicker the light on to reveal a year’s worth of my mania.
From wall to wall, it’s just her.
Pictures of her looking at my camera, pictures of her candidly looking away, pictures with me in it, pictures of other extras in the photo scrartched out with her in the center. To fill in the white wall space between photos were hearts and loving messages I’ve drawn on the wall when I just couldn’t hold in my love for her.
I picked up one of her sweaters that I never planned to give back. Bringing it to my nose, I inhale deeply. It no longer smells like her, I’ve had it for too long. The exhale escapes as a whimper and I fall to my knees.
This was my safe space to express my love for her without fucking ruining everything.
And now it’s not enough.
I shakily tap to her contact and press the phone to my ear.
“Your call has been forwarded–”
“FUCK!” I chuck my phone out of the closet, the sounds of clatters and cracks following. My chest heaves as I pick up the letters and re-read them. Memories of Izogie’s reactions to the handwriting in the first two struck me and I laugh humorlessly.
“You wrote like shit on purpose the first time to throw me off, but forgot to write the same the second time,” I say out loud to a beaming Izogie on the wall in front of me like she’s here. “You think I don’t know what your handwriting looks like?! I know everything about you!”
Almost everything. I didn’t know she loved me as deeply as she did.
But now she’s not talking to me, and possibly with that fucking animal, when she should be on the date she promised me.
“I should have ran that bitch over like I did the other one two weeks ago.” I snarl through gritted teeth.
Memories of Yola jogging on a remote trail played through my mind like a movie. I sat there in my car staring into the sideview mirror, waiting to pounce like a lioness stalking its prey through the savannah grass as she approached. When she jogged past, paying my vehicle no attention with her headset on, I turned my key in the ignition.
It was pedal to the floor from there, she never saw me coming. And I backed up over her to make sure too.
I had to do it. She was flirting with Izogie during a track meet, and I overheard her saying she was going to “bag” her. Like my love was a piece of meat they sell at the street market.
She acted like a fucking animal in heat, so I treated her like one by putting her down. Simple.
A giggle escapes my lips at the image of her head knocking against my bumper. I slap my hand over my mouth, but that doesn’t contain the fit of laughter I’m sent into as her demise replays in my mind. I clutch my stomach and bend forward, wheezing out laughs and squeezing my eyes to release the manic tears of glee.
In between my gasps for breath, I look up at a clawed out Ashanti in one of the photos. A stiff grin stretches my face and I point to her, “I’m putting you down next.”
~~~
I’m outside her apartment, with the spare key she gave me in hand. I put my ear to the door to listen for their voices.
Silence.
I huff and unlock the door without a second thought. I step in and I look around, confused.
Her apartment looks the exact same. There’s no sign of any renovations done. I softly close and lock the door behind me, careful not to make a sound. Tiptoeing out into the living room, my blood runs cold.
Chairs are knocked over, and there’s blood splattered on the ground. Thinking the absolute worst, I desperately call out to her, “Izogie!” Please, please, please be okay.
I move quickly to the hallway, and a door – that’s always been locked every time I come over – swings open. I jump back, startled at who or what might be revealed behind the mysterious door.
There my Zo stood in what I could infer was her date outfit. Burgundy blouse paired with black dress pants that hugged every curve of her legs. If it weren’t for the dark wet spots of blood on her blouse, I would have melted into a puddle right there.
“F-Fei?” Her eyes bulged and blinked like she couldn’t believe I was here. I moved in closer, and then I could see the dark speckles of blood tainting her smooth foundation. I bring a hand up to her cheek, wiping some of it away.
“Zo, what happened to you?” I say in a small voice, inspecting her figure for any wounds. “Is this your blood?”
She shakes her head no, keeping her eyes downcast in shame. I furrow my eyebrows and step back.
She’s right, it’s not. I see no cuts or bruises on her. My gaze trails down to her bloody hands and see that she’s clenching a flimsy object in her right. I step forward and gently take her hand in mine.
Her chest starts to shake as sobs begin to rack through her body. I whisper reassurances as I work to pry her hands of the object, finger by finger. Beads etched with letters fall from her palm and scatter onto the wooden floors at our feet. I was able to make out what it spelled before it came apart: Ashanti.
“Can I come in the room, Zo?” I bend down a bit so I can meet her gaze. The question seems to upset her more and she shakes her head.
“N-no, please. You won’t l-look at me the same, I-I just…” Her words fail her and so does her knees. I catch her as she falls to them and hold her tight to me as she wails. Her bloody hands stain my dress as she clings onto me like her life depended on it.
I take the opportunity to see into the room behind her, and I’m gobsmacked.
From the ceiling, all the way down to the floors of the room, it was all me.
Photos of me aware of the camera, photos of me when my mind drifted. There was a rack of clothes that I thought I lost to the laundromat, neatly hung across the back wall.
I crane my head to view more and my jaw slacks. In the center left side of the room was a shrine-like display that was adorned with a blown up poster of my face on top. On the table shelves below were a collection of things. From where I could see, there were missing toothbrushes and a bag of what I believe to be my shed hair from wash days I’ve had when I slept over here.
Her secret room beats mine by miles. She doesn’t just love me in the same way I do her, she may even love me more. I never knew that to be possible.
And the cherry on top of all, Ashanti’s lifeless body is in the middle of it all, like an animal sacrifice for us.
Almost two years of her love for me trumped her pathetic twenty years of so-called friendship, and that fact alone is enough to make me happy cry.
This is what I’ve been waiting for. Praying for.
And now it’s here, better than what I’ve imagined it to be.
This is what I deserve.
“Zo… Zo, baby, look at me.” I tilt her chin up and my heart aches when I see her bloodshot eyes. “Why are you crying, my love?”
Then she begins to spill everything.
“She knew I loved you since we first met, b-but she still came onto you and betrayed me,” she sniffs and sits up, “then I saw you hurt and I was so livid, so I was gonna cut her off before our date today,” she glances back at her former best friend’s body and scowls.
“But then she b-broke into this room and called me insane, and I saw red,” she turns back to me, clutching my arms desperately, eyes darting across my calm face frantically. “Then I remembered you said that you wanted her g-gone, so I–I…”
I shushed her and gently pulled her to my chest again, no longer needing to hear the rest. I already can see what transpired.
We stay like this for several minutes until her sobs reduce to whimpers. I look down at her, smiling.
“Wanna know something?” I ask, giddiness in my tone like I’m back in primary school and it’s show and tell. She hums and gazes up at me. “The animal I hit the other week was Yola. I ran her over because she was going to hurt you. I killed her because I love you, just like you killed Ashanti because you love me.”
I can practically see her eyes twinkle at my murderous confession.
We really are the same.
“Can I tell you something too?” She questions, sitting up and pulling me into her lap. My Izogie was slowly coming back to herself. I nod my head, waiting in anticipation. “I’m your secret admirer.”
I look around her me-filled room and back at her, “Nooo, you don’t say!” I exaggerate, feigning surprise. She nudges me playfully and chuckles. I bite my lip and my eyes flicker down to hers. Noticing where my gaze is directed, she wastes no time closing the distance between us.
The slow, sweet, and serene kiss was the perfect paradox to the manic, iron-smelling, and chaotic room we were in.
We were not simple-minded, primal creatures that looked at the world in black and white. We understood the secrets of the abyss, the wonders of the light, and the nuances of gray in between.
And we accepted, embraced, and loved all the complexities of true love.
The love that makes us human. The love that makes us feel alive.
~~~
A/N: crazy how I'm starting my hiatus on an unhinged note but hey 🤷🏿♀️
As time went on, the days seemed to mesh together and keeping track of the days of the week proved to be futile. The weekends didn’t feel like the weekends, and everyday felt like an ordinary Tuesday.
The only time she knew what day it was was when Nawi let her know that she was outside her door to check in on her. It was the only time Izogie would text back, saying she was alright, but Nawi would only leave if she sent a “wellness picture”.
She was anything but well though. Physically, she was great, but mentally, she still felt like she was shot.
Remembering how many times she got injured on the battlefield, she couldn’t help but compare her current capabilities with her past ones.
A gunshot is what killed her back then, and she survived one now. So why was it that she’s been lying on her couch for the past few weeks, unable to face the world again?
Sure, she had dealt with a lot in this life, most of the traumas being parallel to the past, but what was missing now was her ability to get up again.
There was that time she got a scar on her neck that she remembered. It was in her earlier days of becoming a warrior that she got it. An enemy soldier took a slice at her neck, and she had just barely dodged it for it to not hit an artery. It wasn’t the wound itself though, it was the infection she caught after that almost killed her.
Bedridden for a week and a healer constantly on stand-by, the second she felt half-better, she was hacking at a test dummy at night with her machete to regain her strength. Despite the pain, her determination and hunger to be the best overcame it with ease.
And now there she lay, no pain to overcome, but still can’t will herself enough to go out.
Searching for you definitely wasn’t helping either. She tried every social media known to man, but nothing. She even looked on Pinterest! In modern day New York where no one would bat an eye at the two of you being together, this was the perfect time for your love. But you were nowhere to be found.
Just my luck. She sulked.
Her apartment quickly became a place to ruminate in her thoughts as deadend after deadend blocked her from experiencing a love across lifetimes. Insecurities birthed from the back of her mind and crawled to the front to take up more space.
What if you were in a relationship?
What if she wasn’t your type in this life?
Would you still feel the same way towards her despite not remembering anything?
She ended up finding the worst possible answers that would make her groan and sob into her pillow.
At some point in the afternoon, she finally lifted herself from the couch… only to fetch a tub of ice cream from the freezer. As she walked into her room to reminisce and sulk for the third time that day, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Halting abruptly in her tracks, she backpedaled until she could see her full frame.
She put the tub down on her dresser and leaned into her reflection.
Her eyes were baggy and bloodshot. A knitted blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, and she was in a linty hoodie and sweats. Her plaits even lacked their distinct rows due to frizz.
She peeled the blanket off and noticed her arm muscles were less toned, and that alone was the wake-up call she needed to get it together; staying at home by herself was not helping anymore. She needed to get into that gym as soon as possible and get her hard-earned body back.
Snatching the ice cream and chucking it in the garbage, she pulled her phone out of her pocket to send the clearance request from Dr. Raf. In less than five minutes, she received a text notification from the hospital: Your work clearance is ready to be picked up!
Now all she needed to do was refresh her hair and body before she stepped out back into her life.
Her neck was craned to look up at the proud sign that highlighted her workplace. Her home away from home.
Security Warrior & Fitness.
The clearance paper slightly crinkled in her hand as her nerves began to ramp up. Her gaze dropped down and peered through the windows. She saw more familiar faces than she could mentally handle, buzzing back and forth as they carried on with their tasks.
“Deep breath, Zo. And just go in, don’t overthink.” She told herself. After an inhale and exhale, she pulled the door open and entered with a bell chime from above her head.
Along with the chatter of clients and her sisters on their breaks, the relaxing tunes of Lo-Fi Afrobeats waved through the lobby from ambient speakers. The secretary at the front desk looked up and beamed when she saw her. Standing up from her chair, she loudly welcomed her, promptly ending every conversation in the lobby.
They all began to hound her with plenty of variations of ‘welcome back!’, ‘how are you!’, and ‘you look great!’. She felt hugs coming from all directions while she struggled to thank and answer questions the best she could.
Nawi cut through the crowd and waved some of them away, telling them to give her some space. Izogie was confused for a short second as to why she was cutting the reunions short, until she felt some wetness on her cheek.
She raised a hand to them and realized she had started to cry, and Nawi and others held sympathetic expressions.
They thought that the joy she had to be back was overwhelming her, but it was really the faces of fallen sisters that she never expected to see again.
Maybe I came back too soon? She internally doubted. Nawi placed a hand on her arm.
“What’s wrong?” She asked. Izogie shook her head and waved her hand off playfully.
“Nothing, nothing. Just happy to be back. Where’s miganon?” She asked. Nawi held back a laugh.
“Miganon? Are we an army?” She teased. The warrior’s eyes widened slightly as she realized her mistake.
“Nanisca, where’s Nanisca?” She corrected herself. The young woman pointed to the staircase that led up to her office.
“Miganon, is upstairs in her office.” Izogie rolled her eyes at Nawi dragging out her mistake.
“Do not tell Nanisca I called her that.” She warned before walking off. The giggle she heard behind her as she ascended the steps made her sigh exasperatedly.
Face-to-face with her general’s door, she knocked before could let her doubts get in the way. She waited until she heard the confirmation to enter and opened it.
Her boss was sitting behind her desk, dressed perfectly in a dark blue suit with Bomba lining in its interior. Nanisca nodded for her to sit and she obliged. They proceeded to have small talk about her recovery until Izogie segwayed the conversation to her returning.
“I got cleared by my doctor.” She handed over the paperwork. “Is it possible for me to start today?”
Nanisca didn’t answer right away. She took her time, reading each line of the document, before setting it aside.
“No.” Her mentee’s eyes popped open in shock. She began to respectfully object but her mentor’s raised hand cut her short. “I can tell by the baggy hoodie you're wearing that you’re not in shape. You’re not one to head your figure. In the meantime, you will lead the self defense classes instead while you use our gym to get back where you need to be.”
Izogie slouched back in the chair in defeat, sighing. “Okay, better than nothing.”
Nanisca softly smiled and reassured her that she’d be back to her original position before she knew it. She welcomed her back again and dismissed her once that was all.
Hopping off the last step, she returned to the lobby and Amenza caught her. As they stood off to the side updating each other on the past few weeks, Nanisca and Ghezo walked past them into the center of the lobby, facing the entrance. Izogie’s attention trailed from the conversation and she pointed at them.
“Are they expecting someone?” Amenza glanced up from her phone and hummed.
“Mhm, a new intern. Ghezo’s cousin apparently.”
The sentence sucked out her breath. She turned to the door fully, almost giving herself whiplash.
It has to be you.
Dense crowds of Yankee civilians migrated to and fro outside of the building, and her eyes flitted from one face to another, hoping to spot you in the crowd. A nudge came to her arm and she didn’t bother looking to see who it was.
“Hm?” She answered in a slightly annoyed tone.
“You seem more excited to see the intern than Mr. Ghezo.” Nawi poked her.
“Go away, Tsetse.” She swatted her away, shocking the younger one at her use of Fon all of a sudden.
The bell at the door rang and her head snapped to the door, and there walked in her heart.
You entered, a bit of uncertainty in your step, but when you laid eyes on your cousin you smiled big.
Oh, that smile. Her memories did it no justice whatsoever. She could melt into a puddle right there if she was made of weaker stuff.
Your corduroy forest green baggy pants made subtle sounds as you walked forward. The flowy, wide sleeves of your top swayed with the slightest movements as if you had your own air. Your knotless braids were half-up, separated into three buns as if they were the peaks of a tiara. Your royal beauty still managed to transcend time and space.
The look was different. A good — hell, great different even. It was more you. Perhaps you got to wear what you truly wanted in this life, without the permission or instruction of others.
She took a few steps forward but remained a few paces behind her bosses. Your eyes flickered to the movement behind them and locked with her glossy dark orbs.
A chill ran through your body unexpectedly, and you clutched to the straps of your purse tighter.
The fuck was that? You wondered.
Your cousin engulfing you in a big hug was the only thing that broke your trance. You kept your voice steady as you greeted him, trying to push the image of the warrior looking at you with such intensity.
You exchanged greetings with Ms. Nanisca after with a firm handshake. While Ghezo started asking about your family in California, all Izogie could do was stare in disbelief.
All those weeks of her trying to find your whereabouts, only for you to waltz in in all of your glory at her workplace. The same day that she returned. Fate really did exist after all.
Your eyes met hers again, only for a split second before returning to Nanisca, but Izogie caught it nonetheless. A searing feeling of longing grew in her gut as her mind began to race.
Do you feel it too? Please feel, remember, something!
Nanisca turned to the lingering crowd of employees and told them to line up. Izogie went to move but she stopped her, “Not you. Security guards only.”
Her heart sank as she slinked back, shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket.
“Okay, ladies. This is our new intern Y/N, who is also Mr. Ghezo’s cousin. She will be frequenting the business for the time being, but she is required to have a personal bodyguard when she is not at the building, including weekends. Of course, you’ll get increased pay and extra benefits… if she chooses you.”
Just my fucking luck, again.
Every pair of eyes trained on you made you even more nervous than starting this internship. You scanned the faces and physiques of each guard, not exactly knowing what to look for to see who was more qualified to protect you. However, you appreciated that they were all women.
You noticed that the woman you locked eyes with earlier wasn’t in the lineup, and a small part of you was disappointed. You didn’t understand why, though. It’s not like you knew her.
You hummed and pointed out the tallest one.
“Amenza? Good choice.” Ms. Nanisca said. The rest dispersed as Amenza walked up to you to formally introduce herself.
I’m the better choice. Izogie rolled her eyes and turned away, not wanting to see you interacting with her. I should’ve worked out during my break, fuck!
She wanted to kick something. Punch something. Let out steam in some way because the rollercoaster of emotions she’s been dealing with all day is starting to get to her.
Nawi’s observant gaze shifted from your wandering eyes to Izogie’s yearning expression. As she went to ask if Izogie knew you, Izogie cursed out loud in Fon without realizing.
Many heads, including yours and her bosses, turned to her in slight shock and confusion. She inhaled sharply and turned to Nawi, attempting to save face.
“Oh, I think I forgot my dumbbells at home.” Izogie scratched the back of her head. Nawi’s eyebrows knit together.
“... We have dumbbells here?” The older one gave her a pointed look and then she finally caught on. “Oh! Oh yeah, you have your own special dumbbells with the um, grip uniqueness…”
A few beats of louder silence passed as people exchanged further confused looks.
Grip uniqueness?! Gods, strike me with lightning right now.
Nanisca and Ghezo turned back to you and continued to talk about your internship. As the focus of the room shifted away from her, she realized how fast her heart was beating. This day has been more than her mind could handle.
She quickly excused herself and hastily trudged out of the building, not sparing another glance in your direction. You couldn’t help your eyes locking onto her when she brushed past you. Her energy seemed… different.
“That was Izogie.” Ghezo said. You turned around fully as she pushed the door open to leave.
“Izogie.” Her name slowly rolled off your tongue. “Pretty name.”
She was two blocks down when her cell chimed. Kissing her teeth, she pulled it out expecting to see Nawi’s name on the screen. Her footsteps slowed to a stop when she read “DNA” instead.
“Who the he–”
“AYO, move out the fucking way!” A New Yorker cursed her out as he shoved past her. She returned the energy, despite being in the wrong, and moved closer to the buildings away from the foot traffic.
She returned to her phone screen and opened the message.
Hey, I heard you came back today. How’ve you been? I meant to check up on you but I didn’t know if you wanted me reaching out – 2:32 PM
Izogie was confused as to who this person could possibly be. She began to type back that they had the wrong number, but the message bubble popped up, so she decided to delete and wait.
Since you’re feeling better, I think it’s about time we talked about what happened, Izogie. – 2:33 PM
A rhythmic, robotic beep tapped her eardrums while she lay dormant and dreamless. The sterile smell of thin fabric bed sheets greeted her instead of the usual jasmine-scented candle on her bedside. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that the offensive white light that made the inside of her eyelids look red belonged to a hospital.
Izogie had been awake for a while, and the pain from her pupils rapidly adjusting to the penetrating brightness of the room was not something she wanted to deal with once she opened her eyes. So she kept them closed for the time being.
During that time, the moments she endured before losing consciousness replayed in her head like a broken record.
On security duty. A man got rowdy. Nawi kicked him out. He had a gun. So did she. She wasn’t fast enough. Izogie pushed her. Debilitating pain. Another gunshot. Nawi screaming and crying. You. Repeat.
This tragic string of events, that happened all too fast, ended in something people would call a miracle. She survived and witnessed a life that felt foreign yet familiar to her. She should be prying her eyes open and facing her life in a whole new light, taking full control of her second chance.
But her eyes remained shut and her throat sore from holding back a sob for the past ten minutes. She had an inkling feeling that her life would never be the same after this incident, and she’s terrified.
The door clicking open made her swallow the lump in her throat and force herself to relax deeper in her barrier from reality. The nurse’s voice filled the room instead of the monotonous beeps, and soon joined the voices of her loved ones.
She couldn’t bear to keep up the facade after that.
Nawi was first to see her open her eyes. The exhales of relief and joy cut off any updates her nurse had for them. Nanisca and Amenza immediately surrounded her, expressing their happiness of her survival. After they had their moment, the nurse cut back in to explain Izogie’s state.
“You were shot in the torso, but fortunately the bullet didn’t hit any organs and exited your body. You lost a lot of blood however due to having two holes in your body, so you’ve had three blood transfusions while you were unconscious.” Izogie nodded and bit her lip, trying her best to take in the information.
“You are stable now, but we need to keep you a few days to make sure you stay that way. Those are all the updates I have for you, so do you have any questions?” The nurse put her clipboard down and stared at her with a warm smile. Izogie shook her head. Her nurse gave her a sympathetic look and let her know that she was a call button away before leaving.
As the door shut, Nanisca returned to Izogie’s bedside, placing her hand on her shoulder.
“You’re on paid leave until you come back to work. Don’t rush back.” Her mentor said. Her hair was pulled back in a low-puff, and she adorned a light layer of make-up on her face. The scar she remembered cutting through her brow seemed to have moved to her lower chin instead, only lightly covered with foundation.
Though the difference in style and scar placements were different, the woman who raised her to be the woman she was today remained the same. That was true in her past life and this one.
Nanisca softly gasped as Izogie abruptly pulled her in for a hug. She returned the gesture after a few moments of hesitation and let her brightest pupil have the much needed embrace.
“Thank you.” Izogie said through a choked whisper only Nanisca could hear. The general could tell that she was grateful for more than just paid leave, so she only hummed and rubbed her back.
Once they pulled away, Izogie looked at all of them standing together and really took them in, spotting similarities and differences like the mobile game advertisements she’s bombarded with online.
“We’re… all still together in this life?” She whispered, more to herself than the women in the room. Confused eyebrows quirked up and glances were exchanged.
“What other life is there?” Nanisca asked with crossed arms.
“Do you mean past lives, Zo?” Amenza chimed in, eyes brightening at the possibility that she has had a spiritual awakening, which wouldn’t be completely wrong. Nanisca sighed and shook her head.
“Oh, Amenza, she just woke up! You can throw some cowshells down or flip some cards over after she’s in her right mind.”
While hushed bickering ensued between the two older women, the youngest one studied her mentor that lay teary-eyed in the hospital bed. She felt like Izogie had more going on than subtle delirium due to exhaustion.
Nawi chose to hang behind as her boss and manager went back to work. As soon as the door clicked shut, she turned to Izogie and leaned in.
“So who’s Y/N?” Izogie’s head snapped to her in shock. “You called her name before you passed out.”
“She’s…” But no more words followed. How could she begin to explain how she knew you as the love of her past life, from memories of a life that aligned in more ways than one with this one, yet she has never met you.
“I… don’t remember.” She settled on a lie that was easier than the truth she couldn’t make sense of. Nawi pursed her lips and nodded, sitting back again.
“I’m gonna head back to work as well,” She reached in her purse and handed Izogie her phone. “but call me when you get checked out so I can come pick you up.”
She stood up to leave, but Izogie gently grabbed her wrist. The younger looked down at her expectantly, willing to carry out whatever order she had that would make her life easier, but the next words that came out of her mentor’s mouth made her blink in surprise.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Izogie said sincerely. The last scene that played before the end of her past life was Nawi crying over her. She hoped that Nawi turned out okay back then too.
Nawi blinked back tears and thanked her for saving her life. With one last look over her shoulder, she left Izogie to her thoughts.
Taking in the stark white walls of her room, she began the comparisons to her numerous visits to the healers’ huts.
A part of her felt out of place in this modern hospital. She knew what they looked like growing up in New York, everyone does. But the bombardment of new, but ancient memories made her present reality hard to grasp.
The world has changed so much, and it’s all so overwhelming.
Her phone chimed in her hand, taking her away from her tornado of thoughts. A few texts from her co-workers – well Agojie sisters – were wishing her well on her recovery. The word must have gotten out that she finally woke up.
As she swiped the notifications away, her lockscreen revealed her and them with drinks in hand at a bar. They all wore shining grins and some of them were mid-laugh, as if they were celebrating. Her eyebrows knitted as she tried to remember what happened that day, and when it finally came to her, her heart swelled and her eyes stung.
Nanisca successfully expanded their business with a gym where they would hold self-defense classes for women, so they went out to celebrate.
A teardrop hit the screen and her thumb promptly wiped it. The phone recognized her fingerprint and swiftly granted access. Without a second thought, she went to her contacts and scrolled, more tears falling as she read off every name of her sisters that she fought alongside on numerous battlefields.
But as she reached the last letter Z, a painful pang hit her chest when she didn’t find your name. She went to sit up more, but radiating soreness shot through her abdomen and she laid back down. Painkillers could only alleviate so much.
She scrolled through three more times, then plopped her phone to the side. Sharply exhaling, she looked up at the ceiling, racking her brain of any modern recollection of you.
Nothing.
You both hadn’t met each other yet.
“But we will soon.” She murmured, slightly surprising herself. The burning sense of determination that lit up within made her confused, but it felt right. She’d just have to add that puzzle piece to a jumbled up big picture she couldn’t figure out.
Scratching her head, she started her search. All their names are the same, so yours should be too.
Scooping her phone back up, she tapped to her Instagram, hit the magnifying glass, and began typing. Profiles popped up and her hands grew clammy as she clicked on each one.
“No… Damn, no… That’s a white woman, so obviously not… Why are so many of these private?!” She groaned and put the phone down. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing on the distant memories of you to see if they’d give her clues.
Instead, only faint sounds of your melodic laughter and visions of your smile graced her mind. Though those scenes weren’t the clues she was looking for, they soothed the headache that was forming from the constant strain of thinking.
The door abruptly swung open and Izogie’s eyes opened in alert. Damn, no knock?
“You, my patient, should not be on your phone.” The doctor tsked in disapproval and snatched the phone away before Izogie could protest. She put it on the bedside table then turned back to her. “You should be resting.”
Izogie instantly grew annoyed at the doctor’s lack of manners. “The injury is in my torso, not my head.” She snipped. The doctor was unaffected by her miffed attitude and continued to scribble on her clipboard.
“Your brain needs all the energy it has to direct the rest of your body to heal, so screentime will be limited for now until your discharge.” With an exasperated huff, she let her do her job.
After her vitals were checked and bandages changed anew, the doctor handed her a drink in a small styrofoam cup, “Drink up.”
The woman looked into the cup and found the liquid inside to a swirly teal and navy blue.
Naturally, she was suspicious, but the look the doctor shot her made her think twice about questioning her authority.
It was absolutely disgusting and bitter from the moment it hit her lips until the last drop hit her last tastebud in the back of her tongue. Coughing, she finally got the courage to ask what it was.
“Excuse me – cough – but what the – cough – hell was that, Dr. …?” Her eyes trailed down to the nametag pinned on her white lab coat, and a new round of coughs racked through her in shock: Dr. Raf.
Déjà vu pricked her brain like a wasp as the nametag glinted in the stale hospital light.
“Wait… it’s you!” There was no need for any more words as the goddess knew what she meant when her joyous smile broke through one of her many disguises.
“Long time no see, Izogie.” She chuckled and took off her stethoscope she sported around her neck. “Well, long time for you. It honestly felt like 2 minutes for me.”
Izogie’s eyes bulged as her suspicions were so casually confirmed.
“Is this a dream? Are you even real?” She asked in disbelief.
“No and yes!” She simply said before writing some more on her clipboard. Izogie sat up straight and gasped. The pain had gone completely.
“The drink I gave you should have you good as new by tomorrow, but you still have to stay here for a few more days to avoid suspicion.” Raf elaborated as if she was reading the warrior’s mind. “I’m already assigning your discharge now and when you feel like going back to work, request a clearance for that too.”
Lifting her hospital gown, not concerned with flashing a goddess, she tore her bandages away. The wound that was present and healing now disappeared into smooth skin. Good as new. A sigh of relief from her recovery time and pain being cut short left her as she reclined into bed.
“Raf… why do I remember things that I’ve never gone through… but I have?” Izogie peered up at Raf for the answer, half expecting her to give her a whole rundown. But it’s Raf. She simply shrugged her shoulders and iced the burning question out.
“The details aren’t important. Your past and current life memories will organize themselves neatly over the next several weeks.”
And Izogie’s frustration with this elusive goddess returned like it never left, but her memory served her to not be snarky with her.
“Where is she?” Izogie tried. The goddess scoffed and lowered her clipboard, giving her a pointed look.
“As if I’ll tell you! I’m going to be more hands off this time around since you have this wonderful thing called the internet now. Finding and being with your true love should be easier now…” She paused and rolled her eyes. “In theory.” The fake doctor started to check her vitals again while grumbling under her breath about stupid social media and how popular couples put up pathetic facades for attention and financial gain.
Izogie’s mind began to reel on how any of this was possible; she was living a normal life in New York City. A trainer and security guard at a place she loved with people she loved. Now this influx of memories from a life lived centuries ago – with an apparent soulmate she hasn’t met yet – has her world turned upside down and around.
“Okay, you’re all set, but I can practically feel you freaking out and it’s annoying me, so I’ll help you rest.” Raf said, making Izogie’s eyebrows knit in worry at what “help” meant to the goddess.
A hand hovered over the patient’s head, and before she could protest, Raf magically put her to sleep, leaving her with dreams of your warm smile and laughter.
A few days passed, slower than Izogie liked, and it was time for her discharge. After she scribbled her initials onto the release form at the front desk, she returned the pen and thanked the secretary.
As she turned back to Nawi, who was patiently waiting for her in the lobby chairs, her eyebrows raised and pivoted back around. The secretary redirected her attention to her with a soft hum.
“Excuse me, Miss? Can you tell Dr. Raf I said thank you?” Izogie requested. The elder woman’s forehead scrunched in confusion, but her warm smile remained.
“Dr. Raf? There’s no doctor here that goes by that name, sweetheart.” Strangely, Izogie didn’t feel surprised. She only chuckled and told the kind lady to not mind her before exiting through the automatic doors with Nawi.
Nawi pulled out her phone and navigated to the Uber app to request a ride. Seeing this, Izogie gently grabbed her wrist, telling her to cancel it and said the subway would be faster.
“But you need to be resting. I feel like that doctor released you way too soon.” She insisted, shooting a distasteful look back at the hospital entrance.
“Nawi, it’s fine. I’m fine. Let’s just make our way to the subway, hm?” The older one reassured her. With a sigh, Nawi reluctantly obliged and walked alongside her, keeping a close eye for any signs of discomfort the whole way to the train car.
The train was packed at this time of day as it was lunch time for those with regular jobs, so the two had no choice but to stand and hang onto metal bars.
Throughout the whole ride, each rhythmic bump on the tracks felt like they were triggering her sensitive brain for more past snippets to flood in. Small dizzy spells hit her in summation, making her grip on the pole tighter. This didn’t go unnoticed by her mentee.
The walk up to her apartment was thankfully a short one. Once they got to her door, she fetched her keys from her bag and fiddled through them.
Come on, which one was it?
A hand swiped the keys from her and found the one to her apartment. As Nawi unlocked the door, she looked at Izogie with pursed lips.
“You definitely hit your head when you fell.” She teased while opening the door. Izogie playfully flicked the back of her head on their way in.
Upon entry, the warrior was greeted with her homey jasmine scent that she’s been missing for the past few days. She breathed in the floral aroma, taking in the familiarity of her humble abode. On the slow exhale, she opened her eyes to take in the state she left her apartment on that day.
It was neat for the most part. Every corner her eyes darted to in her space, she pictured her pre-incident self going about her uncomplicated life; a creaking ceiling fan in the living room from when she tried to fix it herself when maintenance was taking too long. Her half-finished breakfast from when she was in a rush to get to work the day of the incident. Her curled up and sitting by the window, looking down at the busy street below as she’s deep in thought.
What about? She couldn’t remember.
Though she still worked with her sisters, she lived on her own in this bachelorette pad.
Nawi set her stuff down on a dining chair before she went around tidying up for her. Izogie wanted to tell her to leave it alone, but she could tell Nawi would be just as stubborn as she was in her past life about it.
Just as she plopped down on her comfortable couch, the soreness in her legs grew more prominent and she groaned; laying in bed for days after being active for as long as she could remember just doesn’t go well for her.
“I need to get back to the gym.” She grumbled under her breath to avoid a snarky response from her mentee. Languidly taking the remote and idly flipping her way through Netflix, she settled on some show about hot real estate women with petty drama.
Izogie tried to immerse herself in the show, but then one of the women fiddling with her necklace reminded her of how you used to do the same.
No matter what she did you always cut in front of her long line of thoughts, so she might as well focus on you.
Closing her eyes and letting the scenes play behind the lids, starry nights with you by her side came in through various visions. Those captivating moments switched settings, some brought a smile to her face and others brought a tear to her eye. But as each recollection compiled over another, the pressure between her temples grew.
Izogie groaned in frustration as she massaged her temples; she can’t stop thinking about you, but she also can’t think about you too hard either. Go figure.
The kitchen sink that was running for the past five minutes stopped, then shortly after, the couch shifted with Nawi’s weight.
“Is there anything else you need before I head out?” Izogie kept her eyes closed, not wanting to let her see her discomfort and irritation. The last thing she wanted was to snap on someone trying to help.
“No, I’m fine.” She stated. A sigh rang next to her.
“Izogie, please rest as long as you can. You just had a near-death exper–”
“I know!” She kissed her teeth at herself, annoyed that she snapped anyway. She lowered her tone before she spoke again. “I know. Thank you for being here and helping, but I just need some time alone to… process. I’m healing just fine, promise.”
Thankfully, Nawi didn’t take it to heart and expressed that she understood. She shortly took her leave, leaving Izogie to her thoughts once she closed the front door. She stared absentmindedly at the screen, and before she knew it, the sun was gone and the room was dark.
10:37 PM, the clock read.
“I guess it’s time for bed then.” Flicking off the TV, she headed to bed and into a slumber where she lay alone in the dreamscape.
Head rested in the pillowy grass, and eyes glued to the starry night sky.
The bell chimed as the door shut behind Izogie, and your gaze followed her down the busy street for as long as your limited view allowed. Your intrigue in the security guard amassed the more you could feel her eyes on you the second you walked in your cousin’s establishment. Granted, your entrance captured the attention of everyone in the room, but hers birthed butterflies in your stomach as if you were in high school again.
“Um, hello? Earth to my dear cousin?” Ghezo startled you back into reality. You didn’t notice that you were still staring at the window. Ms. Nanisca slightly raised an eyebrow at you before asking her question again.
“While you’re here, would you be interested in taking self-defense classes?” She offered, a thumb pointed in the direction of the gym side of the building. The slaps and jabs against firm punching bags could be heard through the lobby music. You stepped to the side to get a better look at the personal trainers coaching their clients. You bit your lower lip in thought.
“Do I get to pick my trainer?” You asked, head turning back to the older woman. She softly smirked, exchanging a knowing glance with Ghezo.
“If she picks you back, yes.” She answered. Her phone rang in her pantsuit pocket. Pulling it out and humming when she read the Caller ID, she let you know that you could sign up at the front desk with your personal trainer request before walking away. Now you and your cousin were left alone. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.
“Make sure you stay focused, kid.” He said half-joked.
“Kid? You’re only a few years older than me, relax.” You rolled your eyes. Walking past him to the front desk, you asked for the self-defense sign up sheet. The receptionist gave you a clipboard and pen with a smile before returning to his computer.
The tips of your fingers buzzed in excitement as you scratched the old ballpoint pen until ink finally bled through onto the paper. You haven’t felt this excited about anyone… ever.
“I…zo…gie.” You whispered under your breath as you prettily wrote her name. Pretty handwriting to match her pretty name, you thought. Smiling from ear to ear, you handed back the clipboard and resumed your tour of the Security Warrior & Fitness building.
~~~
The fact that she went as far as saving this contact as “Do Not Answer” freaked Izogie out. She read the message fifteen times on the way to the nearest café. By the time she ordered her usual and sat down at a table, she couldn’t figure out who would text her this for the life of her. It was like she was hitting a roadblock on the path that led to the answer in her brain. Something told her that maybe this person was better forgotten.
So, she opted to block the contact. The red option popped up on screen, and her thumb didn’t hesitate to confirm it. Izogie’s name, or moreso the incorrectly pronounced version of her name, was called by the barista, announcing that her coffee was ready.
Grimacing as she stood up, she accepted her cup of joe and muttered a thanks before heading back to her seat. Her lips hovered the opening of the lid, feeling the intensity of the steam that slipped through. She set it down to cool for a few minutes.
The last thing she needed on this overwhelming day was a burnt tongue and lip. It would only add to the growing list of things that she wanted you to kiss better. Her phone vibrated from another text notification.
“Oh, please give me a damn break.” She grumbled as her face unlocked the phone.
Zo GUESS WHAT
No, I won’t. What is it?
No fun🙄 your crush signed up for defense classes… and put in a special request for you to be her trainer!!!🤩
Izogie abruptly stood from her chair in shock, causing the table – and her coffee – to jerk forward. She caught the cup, not without some escaping the lid and spilling onto her fingers.
“Fff– uck.” She silently cursed, still managing to earn lingering stares from coffee patrons. Not even bothering to make eye contact and worsen her embarrassment, she grabbed the table’s napkins and sat back down to clean up her mess. She ignored the singed feeling in her digits as she quickly tapped the screen.
Are you serious?
As tax fraud.
I’m coming back
Oooo don’t fall for her on the way back🤭
She’s a lifetime too late for that.
Cautiously picking up her coffee, she hurried out the door and down the sidewalk, weaving through the sea of pedestrians.
Sparked with new energy from caffeine and a fated chance, she practically sprung from the entrance to the front desk. She eagerly flipped through the sign-up sheet on the clipboard, excitement bubbling from within her. When she found your name written along with hers and your number, it took everything in her to not pump her fist in the air in victory. Though you had to choose Amenza to be your bodyguard, you went out of your way to request her to be your personal trainer. That had to mean something.
As she was saving your contact, footsteps came behind her and she felt a poke in her side. She didn’t have to turn and see that it was her mentee.
“So~ when are you gonna hit her up?” Nawi teased. Izogie added a flower emoji next to your name before saving it and turned to her nosey colleague.
“I’m thinking maybe, tomorrow morning?” She contemplated. Nawi grimaced and shook her head in disapproval.
“Nah, you’ll both be in the building by then tomorrow, so it’ll be weird. Call her later this afternoon, she’s already left for the day.” She put a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “But, remember it’s a business call, be professional.”
Izogie shrugged off her hand and scoffed. “Says the girl who had a crush on that one client a month ago because he sent you flowers.”
“He was a charmer, I couldn’t help it!”
“They were ‘thank you for your service’ flowers, we get those all the time!” The woman shook her head laughing as Nawi huffed in defeat, annoyed that the older one wouldn’t entertain her delusions.
“Enough about me, have you found her Instagram yet?” She asked. Izogie shrugged and held up her phone.
“Who needs it when I have her number?” Nawi sighed exasperatedly, making the warrior quirk an eyebrow.
“You have so much to learn, Zo. Follow me.” Snatching the phone from Izogie’s hand and walking away, she had no choice but to follow the troublemaker. Upon entering the breakroom, Nawi beelined to her locker to take out her laptop. Izogie sat and waited at an empty table until the girl sat next to her, prying the device open and setting Izogie’s phone next to it.
Izogie reached for her phone, only for her hand to be smacked away. Her head tilted back as she shot Nawi an incredulous look, eyebrows almost touching her hairline.
Oh, you’re so lucky this isn’t a lifetime ago. She thought towards Nawi while crossing her arms, fighting the urge to pull her ear like she used to do.
Several moments of silence accompanied by frenzied typing followed as Izogie waited for her to finally tell her what she was doing. She stared down at her shorter, rounded nails in idle thought, wondering if she should grow them out and sharpen them. Finally with a shake of her head, she decided against it.
Wouldn’t wanna risk my instincts to take over and pop a dude’s eyes out on the job. Puffing out an impatient exhale, she peered over at Nawi’s screen for the fourth time. This time around, her eyes widened in disbelief.
There your instagram was on her screen with only a few photos to show for. She leaned in, slightly pushing the younger one to the side to get a closer look. The stillness between each heartbeat lifted as it raced with excitement. The desire that drove her to search for your socials the past few weeks, craving to see more of you even when you weren’t by her side, was only partially satiated.
You didn’t show much of your physical self the way other people did online. There was only one physical post of you gazing at a sunflower-hued setting sun over a glittering ocean. The sky was colored with an ethereal gradient of orange, yellow, and pink, and the light of the sun’s rays perfectly captured the outline of your body.
Even without her memories of her past life, Izogie was positive that she would have fallen in love with your silhouette.
She asked Nawi in a dazed murmur about how she managed to find the account. The young adult leaned back in her chair with her head held high, not concealing how proud she was of her detective skills.
“She has a lowkey media presence compared to her five older sisters. I had to search through every photo that her sisters were tagged in to finally find her in the list of likes from a charity gala photo her father held five years ago.” The intricate explanation made Izogie's head spin and she nodded her head, thoroughly impressed.
“I think you’re in the wrong field of work. You should’ve been a detective.”
“Nah, I’m just not an oldhead like you.” Izogie didn’t hold back pulling her ear this time. “Ow ow ow, okay! I take it back, damn!”
She was finally let go when the warrior was satisfied. Rubbing her aching ear, she slid her laptop in front of Izogie and returned her phone. The phone granted access with the scan of her face and she tapped to your account. Just as she was about to click follow, her phone was snatched again.
“You have one more time to do that shit again.” She warned her with a point of her finger.
“You can’t follow her from your main account! She’ll get weirded out.”
“Then what do you suggest I do then, Miss Detective?” The older woman rolled her eyes.
“Spam account. One that doesn’t disclose who you are.” She explained, her fast fingers already curating a new account. “What do you want your username to be?”
Izogie bit her lip, thinking of a name, but nothing came to mind. She rarely even posts on her main account anyways, now she has to think of a unique name for an account she’s hardly ever going to use. Mind blank on a username, she shrugged and let Nawi pick one out for her: whiskeywarriorqueen.
Her face scrunched up as she read it, “Seriously?” Nawi sighed, handing her the phone after she made the account.
“Well, it’s not like you got anything better. Plus, I put ‘queen’ at the end so she knows it’s not some creepy dude following her. Post some pictures of whatever and wait for a few days before you follow her. It’d be suspicious if she sees you made the account on the same day.”
Izogie groaned at the word “wait”. That’s all she felt like she was doing. Waiting for the right moment to love you without boundaries, without internal conflicts, and without people barricading you two from each other. She’s beyond sick of waiting at this point.
After Nawi warned her to not accidentally like one of your photos while snooping, Izogie’s fingers naturally tapped your username in the search bar as if they were programmed to. Your profile picture then appeared, and her heart was sent racing once more. She barely mumbled a ‘see you later’ to her detective as she left the breakroom, leaving her to her internet stalking.
Despite the other pictures not being of you, but of sights that captivated you enough to capture it for Instagram, she felt closer to you. She felt that she could see the world through your eyes, picking apart each caption and comment under the posts to analyze what mattered to you in this life.
Is there a deeper meaning behind this post, or is it a simple snapshot of what you thought was beautiful? She thought to herself.
Probably for the eleventh time, she returned to your silhouette photo. She just couldn’t get over it; Yes, she saw you in the flesh today, but it felt like she only took you in for two seconds before getting overwhelmed and running away like a coward. Yes, she was going to keep on seeing you for the foreseeable future – training you like old times – but there would always be an end to each session, and she would have to say Good work! Have a great day! and move on to her next client.
But with this timeless photo, she could look at you whenever she wanted.
Visions of her final moments clouded her mind, and the heavy feeling she’d been pushing down the whole day seemed to weigh on her shoulders. She remembered the dying regret of not looking at you more, the fear of being exposed consuming her desire to love you out loud. If she was still a warrior in this life, she would surely be the type to keep a photograph of your smile in her breast pocket while on the battlefield. That way you two would never part like you did before.
The yearning twisted her chest and swelled her eyes. Taking a screenshot to keep you in her photo album, she leaned back in her chair and blinked away tears. Until she had you in this life, this is what she would settle for for now.
Summary: Y/N, the youngest princess of the Kingdom of Kongo, arrives at Dahomey to study how a kingdom runs under the supervision of her cousin, King Ghezo. She has plenty to learn, but all she is interested in learning is the name of the warrior who captured her eye - and soon her heart.
Contains: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Character deaths, Abduction, Gore, and Fighting.
