I was seven years old when my parents died. To be very honest, I don't even remember the accident.
I wish I did.
Maybe then I'd have one more memory of them.🥺
The only thing I remember was waking up in a hospital bed and asking where my mummy was.
Nobody answered me…
I asked where my daddy was.
Still nothing.
Then I saw my auntie crying.
And that was when I knew something terrible had happened.
A lot of people think children don't understand death.
Loll, we actually do.
Maybe we don't understand it the same way adults do, but we know when the people we love are never coming back.
After the burial, everybody went back to their normal lives.
Mine had already changed forever.
My auntie took me in.
She was my mum's elder sister.
Everybody praised her.
"God will bless you for taking care of your sister's child."
"You've done something wonderful."
"That little girl is lucky to have you."
Looking back now, I don't think anybody knew what they were leaving me behind to face.
Or maybe they just never imagined it.
My auntie had one son.
His name was Adebayo.
He was twenty - five as at the time I started living with them.
Everybody called him Bayo.
So I called him Brother Bayo too.
The first few weeks in their house were actually beautiful.🥹
My auntie bought me new uniforms.
She plaited my hair every Sunday night before school.
Whenever visitors came around, she'd smile proudly and say,
"She's my daughter now."
And yeahh...
I believed her. I actually believed her.
I even started calling her Mummy after some time.
The first day I called her that, she smiled at me.
"My daughter."
You have no idea how happy that made me. Because for the first time since losing my parents, I felt like maybe...
Just maybe...
Life was giving me another family.🥺
I didn't know the same house I thought had rescued me...
...was the same house where I would lose the rest of my childhood.
The first few months were okay.
Not perfect though. Nothing could ever be perfect after losing my parents.
But okay enough that I started smiling again.
I started making friends in my new school. I stopped crying every night.
Sometimes I'd even laugh so hard that I'd forget my parents were gone.
Then I'd remember...
And immediately feel guilty.
Almost as if laughing meant I had forgotten them.
Brother Bayo was nice to me too.
Very nice.
He'd buy me biscuits on his way back home.
Sometimes he'd buy those colorful ice creams children loved so much back then.
Whenever my auntie travelled, he'd help me with my homework.
He'd even defend me whenever I got into trouble.
"She's still a child, Mummy."
"Leave her."
I started to really like him as a brother because he made me feel like I still mattered.
Looking back now, I don't even know if he genuinely cared about me or if he was simply preparing me for what he wanted to do.
Maybe it was both.
I honestly don't know.
One Saturday afternoon, my auntie went to the market.
Her husband had travelled to Lagos for work.
So it was just the two of us at home.
I was in the sitting room watching cartoons.
I don't remember what cartoon it was.
I only remember laughing.
Brother Bayo came and sat beside me.
"What are you watching?" he asked.
I pointed at the television.
"This one."
He laughed.
"You don't even know the name."
"I know it."
"So tell me."
"I forgot."
He laughed again and rubbed my head.
Then he stood up.
"Come."
"Where?"
"My room."
"Why?"
"I want to show you something."
Hmmm, if someone had told seven-year-old me not to follow him...
I still would have followed him.
Because why wouldn't I?
He was my brother. At least...
That's what I believed.
I followed him into his room.
He closed the door behind us.
I didn't think anything of it.
His room was my favorite room in the house. He had comic books. Video games.
Sometimes he'd even let me press the buttons while he played.
"What do you want to show me?" I asked excitedly.
He smiled.
"Come here first."
I walked closer.
Then he carried me onto his bed.
At first, I thought we were going to play.
He looked at me for a few seconds.
Then he kissed my forehead.
I smiled.
Because that's what older brothers did...
Right?
Then he kissed my cheeks.
I giggled.
"Brother Bayo..."
He didn't answer.
He just kept looking at me.
His face had changed.
I didn't understand it then.
He touched my face.
"You won't tell anybody, okay?"
I frowned.
"Tell them what?"
He smiled again.
"Our little secret."
That was the first time I ever heard those words.
And of course, they didn't sound dangerous. They sounded exciting.
You know how adults sometimes whisper things to children to make them feel special?
That's exactly what I thought this was.
I smiled.
"Okay."
He rubbed my head.
"Good girl."
After that day, everything changed.
I remember coming out of his room feeling... different.
Confused.
I remember sitting in the sitting room again while the cartoon was still playing.
The same cartoon I'd been laughing at barely an hour earlier.
But I wasn't laughing anymore.
I just stared at the television.
When my auntie came back from the market, she found me exactly where she had left me.
"Have you eaten?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Why are you so quiet?"
"I don't know."
She touched my forehead.
"Are you sick?"
Before I could answer, Brother Bayo walked into the sitting room carrying one of the nylon bags from the market.
"Mummy, she's fine," he said so casually that even I believed him.
"She was just watching television."
My auntie looked at both of us for a few seconds.
Then she continued unpacking her things.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I kept replaying the afternoon in my head.
Not because I understood what had happened.
I didn't.
I just knew something didn't feel right.
So the next morning, I tried to ask him a question.
"Brother Bayo..."
"Hmm?"
"Yesterday..."
Immediately, he looked around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear us. Then he smiled.
"You promised."
I frowned.
"Promised what?"
"Our secret."
I immediately covered my mouth.
"Oh."
He smiled again.
"Good girl."
I didn't know I had been given a burden that was never mine to carry. I just knew there was something I wasn't supposed to tell anybody.
And because I loved him as a brother...
Because I trusted him... Because I thought family always protected each other... I kept quiet.
I had no idea that my silence was exactly what he was counting on.
Days passed. Then weeks. Life outside our house looked completely normal. I still went to school every morning, came back home every afternoon.
Sometimes I still played "Teacher and Students" with the children on our street. Other times we'd chase tyres down the road until somebody's mother shouted at us to stop making noise.
If you had seen me back then, you probably would have said I was a happy child. And maybe I was.
At least for a few hours every day.
The only time my heart started beating too fast was whenever school was about to close. Because that meant I was going home. And I never knew which version of Brother Bayo I was going to meet.
Some days, he was exactly the older brother I thought I had. He'd ask me how school went. He'd buy me biscuits. He'd help me solve my Mathematics assignment. He'd even joke with me until I laughed. Those days confused me the most.🥺 Because I'd start thinking... Maybe I imagined everything. Maybe nothing was actually wrong.
Then another day would come... And that little voice inside me would disappear again.
One evening, my auntie sent him to buy bread.
"Go together," she said. "And don't waste time."
"Okay, Mummy," I answered.
We walked to the bakery. Halfway there, Brother Bayo suddenly held my hand. I smiled at him.
To any other person walking past us, we looked like a normal uncle and his little niece. A family. Nothing more.
"You've been quiet lately," he said.
"I've just been tired."
He nodded.
Then he stopped walking and looked at me.
"You're not angry with me, are you?"
Lolll, I was confused.
Angry?
I hadn't even thought about being angry.
I didn't even have the words for what I was feeling.
So I shook my head.
"No."
He smiled.
"I knew my little girl wouldn't be angry with me."
When you're a child, you believe the adults around you. You believe the people who tell you they love you. You don't wake up one morning thinking,
"Maybe the people taking care of me are the same people hurting me."
After a while, I stopped trying to understand my own feelings. I just accepted them. If I felt confused...
I kept quiet. If I felt scared... I kept quiet. If I wanted to ask questions... I kept quiet. It became normal.
One afternoon after school, I came home with a drawing I'd made in class. It was a picture of my family. At least... The family I wanted. I drew my mum. My dad. Me. My auntie. My uncle. Brother Bayo. Even our old dog that died before my parents.
Everybody was smiling and holding hands.
When my teacher saw it earlier that day, she smiled and said,
"You have a beautiful family."
I smiled at her. Because I wanted to believe it.
That evening, I showed the drawing to my auntie.
"Mummy, look what I made."
She looked at it for a few seconds.
Then she said,
"This is really beautiful."
She even kissed my forehead.
Hmmmm, I can't even explain it.
But moments like that made everything even more confusing. Because how could someone be so kind... And still not notice what was happening right under her roof?
Even now as an adult, I'd defend her.
Maybe she genuinely didn't know.
Other times... I'd get angry.
How do you live in the same house with people and not notice anything?
Whenever people hugged me unexpectedly, I'd freeze. If my teacher asked me why I wasn't playing with the other children during break, I'd just shrug.
"I don't know."
That became my favourite answer.
"I don't know."
Because you can't explain something you don't even understand yourself.
A few weeks later, my class teacher called my auntie after school. I was sitting outside the staff room waiting for them. I couldn't hear everything they were saying. Only bits and pieces.
"...she has become withdrawn..."
"...doesn't participate like she used to..."
"...is anything happening at home?"
My heart started beating so fast. I don't even know why. Maybe I thought this was it, somebody had finally noticed, somebody was finally going to ask me the right question.
After a few minutes, my auntie came outside.
"Let's go home."
On our way back, she held my hand.
"Your teacher said you've been very quiet."
I looked down.
"Have people been bullying you in school?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"Then what is it?"
I opened my mouth. I really did. I wanted to tell her everything. But before any words came out...
I remembered the promise.
"Our little secret."
I remembered how much I trusted him, how badly I wanted everybody in that house to stay together. So I forced a smile.
"I'm okay, Mummy."
She squeezed my hand.
"I was beginning to worry."
Then she dropped the conversation.
I sometimes wonder what would have happened if she had not dropped the conversation. If she had knelt down in front of me. If she had looked me in the eyes and asked,
"Did somebody hurt you?"
Maybe I would have cried, told her everything.
Or maybe... I would have still protected the very person who was hurting me.
A few months later, it was my eighth birthday.
Well... Not really a birthday. More like the anniversary of my parents' death. My birthday used to be my favourite day of the year. My mum would wake me up with kisses. My dad would carry me on his shoulders around the house, singing terribly on purpose just to make me laugh.🥲
After they died... Nobody celebrated birthdays anymore. At least not mine.
That morning felt like every other morning.
I wore my school uniform. Packed my bag. Ate my breakfast. And left for school. Not one person remembered. Or maybe they remembered and just didn't think it mattered anymore. I don't know.
School was different though.
My best friend, Amaka, found out it was my birthday. She gave me one sweet.
"Happy Birthday," she whispered before assembly.
That one sweet meant more to me than she'll ever know. I didn't eat it. I kept it inside my school bag the whole day. When I got home, I went to my room and looked at it again. I cried. It wasn't because of the sweet but because someone remembered me.
That was all I wanted. To be remembered.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
It was Brother Bayo.
"I heard it's your birthday."
I quickly wiped my face.
"I didn't know you knew."
"Of course I know."
He brought out a small teddy bear from behind his back.
One of those tiny ones they sold outside supermarkets.
It was really beautiful.
I hugged it immediately.
"Thank you!"
He smiled.
"Do you like it?"
"I love it!"
"Good."
"Don't let anybody take it from you."
"I won't."
He nodded.
"It’s a reminder that you'll always be my favourite."
That teddy bear became my most prized possession. I slept with it every night. I carried it around the house. Whenever my auntie asked me to put it away, I'd refuse.
"It's my birthday present."
She'd laugh and leave me alone.
Weeks later, our school announced a Parents' Day celebration. Every child was expected to come with a parent or guardian. The announcement made the whole class excited. Everyone started talking about who would come.
"My daddy is coming!"
"My mummy is buying me a new dress!"
"My parents are coming together."
I just sat there. My teacher noticed.
"Who'll be coming with you?"
"My auntie."
"Okay dear, that’s nice."
Inside me... I was praying.
Not for my auntie to come.
For my mum. For just one day.
I really wanted to look into the crowd and see her waving at me.🥹
Parents' Day came a week later. I wore my neatest uniform. My auntie even tied two pink ribbons in my hair that morning.
"You look beautiful," she said.
I smiled.
"Thank you, Mummy."
"I'll try to leave work early."
Those words stayed in my head.
Because "try" meant she might not even show up.
When I got to school, almost every child was already standing with their parents. Some mothers were taking pictures. Some fathers were carrying their children on their shoulders.
One little girl was feeding her dad meat pie while they both laughed.🥹 I couldn't stop looking at them. My teacher walked over.
"Has your guardian arrived yet?"
I shook my head.
"She'll come."
At least... I hoped she would.
The program started. The children started dancing. Some sang. Others recited poems. Every few minutes, I'd turn around to check the entrance. Still nothing. By the time the program ended, parents were taking their children home.
The compound became emptier.
My teacher sat beside me.
"You can wait inside my office until someone comes."
I nodded.
"It's okay." She said.
But of course it wasn't. I felt really bad.
Around two hours later, I saw a familiar car drive into the school compound.
I immediately stood up. My auntie. She hurried toward me.
"I'm so sorry."
She looked exhausted.
"There was too much work today."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not." She hugged me. "Did you eat?"
I nodded.
"Your teacher told me you did very well."
"I got a certificate."
"Really?"
I smiled for the first time that day.
"Yes."
She kissed my forehead.
"I'm so proud of you."
When we got back, Brother Bayo was already home.
"How did Parents' Day go?" he asked.
"I got a certificate."
"Really?"
I ran to my school bag and brought it out.
He looked at it and smiled.
"I'm proud of you too."
The following term, a new family moved into the compound beside ours. They had a daughter called Sade. She was my age. Eight years old.
From the very first day we met, we became inseparable.🥹
We did everything together. We played ten-ten every evening after school. We played suwe until somebody's mother called us inside. Sometimes we'd plait our dolls' hair and argue over whose doll was prettier.😂
Other times, we'd sit under the mango tree in our compound making up stories about the clouds.
Sade wanted to become a doctor. I wanted to become a lawyer.
"Why a lawyer?" she asked me one evening.
"So I can help people."
"What kind of people?"
I thought about it for a while. "I don't know yet."
She laughed.
"You'll figure it out."
For the first time since my parents died...
I had a best friend again. Someone who reminded me that I was still a child. And somehow...
Without even trying... Sade became the safest part of my life.
Sade started coming to our house almost every day after school. Sometimes we'd do our homework first. Other times, we'd throw our bags inside the house and run outside immediately before any adult could send us on errands.
One afternoon, we decided to build a small "restaurant" with sand. We borrowed old plates from my auntie. Picked leaves from the mango tree.
Used bottle caps as cups. According to us, we were the richest restaurant owners in Ibadan.🤣
"Welcome, customer," Sade said, trying not to laugh.
"What would you like to eat?"
"I want amala."
"We don't have amala."
"Okay. Give me rice."
"We don't have rice either."
"So what do you have?"
She pointed proudly at the sand.
"Special soup."😂😂
We laughed so hard that my auntie came outside.
"What are you two laughing about?"
"Nothing ooo." Sade answered.
Those little moments became my escape.
Whenever Sade was around, I forgot so many things. I forgot I wasn't living with my parents anymore. I forgot the sadness that followed me everywhere. I even forgot that I dreaded nighttime.
As time went on, Sade practically became another child in our house. My auntie liked her.
"If you're hungry, just serve yourself," she'd always tell her.
Sometimes she'd even ask both of us to follow her to the market. People in the neighborhood started calling us twins.
"Where's Sade?"
"If you see one, the other one is not far." We loved it.
One Saturday afternoon, we were both lying on the floor in my room, drawing with our colouring pencils.
Sade suddenly stopped colouring.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Hmmm?"
"Promise you won't be angry."
"I won't."
She looked at me. Then she asked,
"Why do you always become quiet whenever Brother Bayo comes home?"
My hand froze.
"What do you mean?"
"I've noticed it."
"I don't."
"You do."
She sat up properly.
"You'll be laughing with me one minute..."
"...then immediately you hear his car outside..."
"...you stop laughing."
I forced a smile.
"No, I don't."
"You do."
I became very scared. Nobody had ever said those words to me before. Not my auntie. Not my teachers. Not even me.
I finally realized somebody else had been watching me. I laughed awkwardly.
"You're imagining things."
She frowned.
"I'm not."
I quickly changed the subject.
"Let's go outside."
She didn't move.
Instead, she looked at me.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?"
My heart started beating fast.
I looked toward my bedroom door.
Then back at Sade.
I almost told her. I really wanted to. But then...
Those familiar words echoed inside my head again.
"Our little secret."
I swallowed. Forced another smile.
"I'm okay."
Sade didn't answer immediately.
She just nodded slowly.
"Okay."
But the way she looked at me told me she didn't believe me.
The next day, Sade came to our house again.
She was carrying two oranges.
"My mummy said I should give you one."
I collected it happily.
"Tell her thank you."
"I will."
We sat under the mango tree like we always did.
Neither of us said much. I think she was still thinking about our conversation from the previous day.
Or maybe... She was waiting for me to continue it.
After a while, she peeled her orange and smiled at me.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"I like your name."
I laughed.
"My name?"
"Yes."
"What's special about Abike?"
She shrugged.
"It sounds beautiful."
"My mummy gave me that name."
She smiled.
"What does it mean?"
I looked at my orange.
"My mummy said it means a child to be cared for."
Sade's eyes lit up.
"Awwww, that’s so sweet."
"My daddy used to call me Abike mi."
I don't know why... But saying those words out loud made my chest tight. Nobody had called me that since they died.
Sade noticed my face immediately.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"No... it's not."
She reached for my hand.
"I wish I met your mummy."
"So do I."
For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.
We just sat there listening to the children playing football down the street. Then Sade suddenly stood up.
"Race you to the gate!"
Before I could answer, she took off running.
"Cheater!" I shouted, running after her.
"You started before saying 'go!'"
"Too late!"
"You'll see!"
These were some of the happiest afternoons I had in that house because Sade made me remember that I was still a little girl.
Sometimes we'd spend hours talking about our future.
"You'll defend me when I get into trouble."
"I'll collect plenty money first ooo."🤣
"So you'll charge me?"
"Of course."
"Wicked girl!"
We both burst into laughter.
One Saturday afternoon, the rain refused to stop. The compound was quiet. There was no children outside.
Sade came over with a pack of biscuits.
"My mummy said we should share."
We sat on my bedroom floor, eating biscuits and listening to the rain hit the zinc roof.
"Abike."
"Hmmm?"
"Why do you never sleep over at my house?"
I shrugged.
"I don't know."
"My mummy has asked you many times."
"I know."
"And my daddy likes you."
"I know."
"So why do you always say no?"
I looked down at the biscuit in my hand.
The truth was... I wanted to. Many times. Especially on the days I wished morning would never come.
But every time I was about to say yes...
I'd hear Brother Bayo's voice in my head.
"Don't ever sleep outside this house without telling me."
"I just prefer sleeping at home," I lied.
She looked at me, then nodded.
"Okay."
She accepted my answer. But I noticed she was beginning to watch me more closely.
The next day, I came back from extra lessons that my auntie had signed me up for, but something felt... wrong.
The compound was unusually quiet.
Adults were standing in small groups, whispering. Nobody was laughing. Nobody greeted me the way they usually did.
As soon as my auntie saw me, she rushed over and hugged me so tightly that I could barely breathe.
I think she was trying to convince herself that everything was still normal.
"Go inside," she said.
"But Mummy—"
"I said go inside."
That was the first time she'd ever spoken to me like that.
I quietly walked into the house.
Brother Bayo's bedroom door was locked. I noticed scratches on the outside of the door.
One of the flower vases in the sitting room had shattered on the floor.
It felt like the whole house was holding its breath. About an hour later, I heard someone calling my name outside.
"Abike!"
It was Sade. I ran out immediately.
She was standing under the mango tree.
Her eyes were swollen. She looked like she'd been crying for hours. As soon as she saw me, she threw her arms around me.
I had never seen Sade shake before.
"What happened?" I asked.
She didn't answer. She just kept crying.
After a long time, she pulled away and looked at me.
"Abike..."
"Hmmm?"
She hesitated. Then she asked,
"Has Brother Bayo ever made you feel scared?"
The moment those words left her mouth... My heart stopped.
I looked at her. Then at the ground.
Then back at her. I wanted to lie.
I wanted to say no. I wanted to protect the secret the way I'd been taught to.
Instead... The tears came first.
I started crying so hard that I couldn't even speak.
Sade held my hand.
"You don't have to be scared anymore," she whispered.
I looked at her through my tears.
"What happened?"
Sade took a deep breath.
"He... he called me inside the house."
I held my breath.
"I thought he wanted to ask me where you were."
She shook her head.
"But something didn't feel right."
Her voice was trembling.
"I tried to leave."
She stopped talking so I reached for her hand.
"What happened after that?"
She looked away.
"He tried to stop me from leaving."
A tear rolled down her cheek.
"I fought him."
She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
"I bit him."
I stared at her.
"You did?"
She nodded.
"I bit him as hard as I could."
"And then?"
"I ran."
She let out a shaky breath.
"I didn't stop running until I got home."
Then she looked straight at me.
"Abike..."
"Hmmm?"
"I'm sorry."
I frowned.
"Why are you saying sorry?"
"Because the whole time I was running home, I kept thinking..."
She burst into tears again.
"...if this happened to me today..."
"...what if it has been happening to you for a long time?"
That question broke me. I couldn't answer her. I just cried. She cried too.
Word had already started spreading that something serious had happened in our house.
Neighbours gathered in small groups.
People whispered. Adults walked in and out of our sitting room.
Nobody allowed me to go outside again.
Around sunset, my uncle arrived home.
I'd never seen him look so angry.
He walked into the house without greeting anyone. A few minutes later, loud voices filled the compound.
And then, I heard Brother Bayo crying.
More like the cry of someone who had finally been caught. I sat on my bed, hugging my teddy bear.
I didn't know exactly what was happening. But I knew that something had changed.
And whatever happened next...
Our family might never be the same again.
About thirty minutes later...
Someone started banging on our door.
My auntie quickly stood up and my uncle opened the door.
It was Sade's mum.
I'd never seen her look like that before.
Her wrapper wasn't tied properly.
She hadn't even covered her hair.
She looked like she'd left her house without thinking twice.
The moment she entered our compound, she pointed straight toward Brother Bayo's room.
"Where is he?"
Nobody answered.
"I said WHERE IS HE?!"
My uncle sighed.
"Please... calm down."
"Calm down?" she shouted.
"You want me to calm down after what almost happened to my daughter?"
The whole compound had become quiet. Neighbours had started gathering outside our fence. Everybody was listening.
Sade's mum turned to my auntie.
"You trusted that man around children?"
My auntie burst into tears.
"I didn't know."
"You didn't know?!" Sade's mum's voice cracked.
"You mean to tell me this has been happening in this house and you didn't know?"
My auntie covered her face.
"I swear to God... I didn't know."
Sade's mum wasn't having it.
"I don't want explanations."
"I don't want tears."
"I want him arrested."
The sitting room fell silent.
Even I knew what that word meant.
Arrested ke?
My uncle finally spoke.
"Let's handle this as a family."
"No."
Her answer came immediately.
"There is nothing to handle."
"What he did is a crime."
"He should answer for it."
My uncle rubbed his forehead.
"Please... let's not make this bigger than it already is."
The moment he said those words...
I looked up at him.
Bigger than it already is?
I didn't understand everything adults were talking about back then.
But even at eight years old...
I knew something about that sentence didn't sound right. Sade's mum looked at him in disbelief.
"So you're more worried about the family's name than what happened to these children?"
Nobody answered her. She looked from my uncle, to my auntie, then finally at me.
That's when she really saw me.
She slowly walked toward me. Knelt in front of me. And held my hands.
"Abike..."
I looked at her. Her eyes filled with tears.
"My daughter, has he been hurting you too?"
My lips started trembling. I tried to speak. Nothing came out. I simply nodded.
The moment I nodded, she let out a cry that I still hear in my sleep sometimes. She pulled me into her arms and held me so tightly.
"Oh God..." "Oh God..."
She kept repeating those words. Over and over again. Then she turned toward my auntie.
"You mean this little girl has been suffering in this house and nobody protected her?"
Nobody answered.
Sade's mum stood up. She wiped her tears.
Then said, "If none of you will take this child to the police station..."
"I will."
Nobody argued with Sade's mum this time.
Even my uncle. He just sat there with his head in his hands. My auntie was crying so hard that she could barely breathe.
"I didn't know," she kept saying.
"I swear to God, I didn't know."
Sade's mum looked at her and said,
"If you truly didn't know, then today is the day you choose what kind of mother you want to be."
"You can protect your son or you can protect this little girl."
I don't think I'd ever seen my auntie look so broken.
She looked toward Brother Bayo's room. Then she looked at me. I thought she was finally going to walk over and hug me. Tell me she was sorry. Tell me none of it was my fault.
Instead... She started crying even harder.
"My son..." she whispered. "My only son."
Sade's mum immediately shook her head.
"No, don’t do that. This is exactly how girls get abandoned."
She pointed at me.
"Look at her, really look at her. She's eight years old. She lost both her parents. And now she has been carrying something no child should ever carry. If your first thought is still your son, then you've already failed her."
Nobody said a word.
I only the other hand, just sat there hugging my teddy bear. Looking from one adult to another. Trying to understand why everybody was crying.
My uncle finally stood up. He walked slowly to Brother Bayo's room. Knocked once. No answer.
He knocked again.
"Bayo."
There was silence.
"I know you're inside." Still nothing.
He sighed. Then he opened the door.
I couldn't see what was happening from where I was sitting. But I could hear them.
"Bayo!!! Tell me the truth."
Another long silence.
Then he said, "I made a mistake."
A mistake.
My uncle's voice became louder.
"A mistake?? You call this a mistake?"
"I asked you one question."
"Did you do what they're saying?"
Brother Bayo answered without hesitation.
"Yes."
The whole house froze.
Even the neighbours standing outside became quiet. It was the first time I'd ever heard him admit anything.
My auntie screamed. She ran toward the room.
"Tell me you're lying! Tell me this isn't true!"
Brother Bayo didn't answer. He just kept looking at the floor. My auntie slapped him, again and again.
Then she collapsed onto the floor crying.
"My own son..."
"My own son..."
"What have you done?"
I looked at him. He didn't look like the giant I had always been afraid of. He looked so small. Not because he had changed. But because the secret had finally been dragged into the light.
Sade's mum picked up her handbag. She looked at my uncle.
"I'm going to the police station. If you're coming with me, let's go. If you're not, I'll still go."
My uncle didn't answer immediately. He walked over to where I was sitting. Knelt in front of me. His eyes were red.
"Abike, I'm so sorry."
I didn't follow them to the police station that day.
I stayed back at home with one of our neighbours, Mama Bisi. She made me a cup of Milo. It was too hot. I held the cup in my hands for almost thirty minutes without drinking it.
"Drink it before it gets cold," she said softly.
I nodded. But I still didn't drink it.
Isn't it funny how life continues like nothing has happened? People still cook. Children still play outside. The sun still sets. Meanwhile... Your whole world has fallen apart.
Around 8 p.m., my auntie and uncle came back.
Sade's mum came in with them.
My auntie's eyes were swollen. My uncle looked like he had aged ten years in one afternoon.
Sade's mum walked straight to where I was sitting.
She knelt beside me.
"Abike."
"Yes, ma."
"We spoke to the police."
I didn't know what that meant.
I just nodded.
"They want to talk to you tomorrow."
Immediately, my stomach tightened.
"Me?"
"Yes."
I looked at my auntie.
Then at my uncle.
Then back at Sade's mum.
"Am I in trouble?"
Sade's mum quickly shook her head.
"No, my baby."
She held both my hands.
"You've done absolutely nothing wrong."
I frowned.
"But..."
She smiled sadly.
"You are not the one who did something bad."
"The adult is."
"Do you understand?"
“Yes ma.”
The next morning, we went to the police station. It was my first time ever entering one. I thought it would be scary.
Instead... It was surprisingly quiet.
One female police officer came over to us.
She smiled at me.
"Hello."
I hid behind Sade's mum.
She laughed softly.
"My name is Inspector Funke."
"What's your name?"
I looked at the floor.
"Abike."
"That's a beautiful name."
I looked up.
"Would you like some biscuits?"
I nodded.
She brought out a small pack from her drawer. The same type my dad used to buy for me after church on Sundays.
She didn't ask me questions immediately. We coloured in a colouring book first. She asked me about school. My favourite subject. My favourite food. Whether I liked cartoons.
I didn’t really understand what she was doing. But I think she wasn't trying to investigate first. She was trying to help an eight-year-old little girl remember that she was safe. After a while, she closed the colouring book.
"Abike..."
"Hmmm?"
"I'm going to ask you some questions."
"If you don't understand anything, tell me."
"If you don't remember something, that's okay too."
"And if you want to stop at any time, we'll stop."
I took a deep breath. Then I nodded.
"I'm ready."
Inspector Funke didn't rush me. As a matter of fact, she smiled at me all through.
After a while, she put her pen down.
"Abike..."
"Hmmm?"
"I need you to tell me about Brother Bayo."
The smile disappeared from my face.
I looked at the floor. I couldn't say anything. I didn't know where to start. How do you explain something you've never explained before?
How do you find words for something you didn't even understand yourself?
"I trusted him," I whispered.
She nodded.
"I know."
"I thought he liked me as his sister."
"I thought..."
I stopped. My throat felt tight.
"I thought maybe that's what families did."
Inspector Funke reached for the tissue box beside her. She didn't hand it to me immediately. She placed it on the table between us. Giving me the choice to take it. So, I did. She waited until I looked up again.
"Abike..."
"What happened to you was wrong."
"It was never your fault."
"You were a child."
"You deserved to be protected."
After we finished talking, she walked me back to the waiting area. Sade's mum stood up immediately.
"How did it go?"
Inspector Funke looked at her gently.
"She's very brave."
I remember hearing that word and feeling confused.
Brave? I didn't feel brave ooo. I felt tired. Very tired.
As we were leaving, Inspector Funke called my name one more time.
"Abike."
I turned around.
"I want you to remember something."
I waited.
"What happened to you will always be part of your story."
She smiled.
"But it does not get to decide who you become."
Brother Bayo wasn't arrested immediately.
The police told us they were still putting everything together.
Statements. Evidence. Medical reports.
To me... It just felt like waiting.
Two days later, news spread around the neighbourhood. Nobody knows exactly how it started. Some people said someone overheard the conversation in our compound. Others said one of the neighbours told somebody else.
Before evening...
Almost everybody knew.
People who had greeted Brother Bayo with respect just days earlier suddenly couldn't even look at him.
That afternoon, he stepped out of the compound, maybe to buy something, I don’t really know. But what I know was that he didn't make it to the end of the street.
A group of young men surrounded him. Nobody ever admitted to knowing who they were. Nobody admitted to seeing how it started either. All people said was...
"They heard what he did."
By the time my uncle got there, the boys had already disappeared. Brother Bayo was badly injured.
Everybody knew that If Sade hadn't escaped...
There might have been another little girl carrying the same secret I had been carrying.
Three days later, the police came. And this time, they weren't asking any questions. They were there for Brother Bayo. I watched from the window as they placed him inside the police vehicle. He never looked in my direction.
Months later, the case finally came to an end.
The judge found him guilty. He was convicted for repeatedly sexually abusing a child entrusted to his care. And yes, he was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison.
People asked me if I smiled when I heard the judgment. I didn't. There was no celebration. It didn’t change the fact that he sexually abused me.
Prison can punish a man. But it cannot give an eight-year-old little girl back her pride. So the sentence wasn't my healing, It was just accountability.
A few months after everything was over, my auntie came into my room. She sat beside me. She couldn't even look at me. Then she started crying.
"Abike..."
I looked up at her.
"I'm sorry."
She held my hands so tightly they almost hurt.
"I should have protected you., I had no idea Bayo was doing all of those things to you.”
Well, she finally said what I had needed to hear from her all along.
Years passed. I finished secondary school. Went to university. And just like Sade and I used to joke under that mango tree... I became a lawyer.🥹
Every time I stand up to speak for someone who has been silenced... A part of eight-year-old Abike stands with me. She reminds me why I chose this path. She reminds me that every child deserves someone who believes them the first time. If I could meet that little girl today...
I'd kneel in front of her. Hold both her tiny hands.
Look her straight in the eyes. And say,
"Abike..."
"None of it was your fault." 🥺
Before you go...
If Abike's story touched you, I want to tell you something. There are thousands of women walking around today with stories that never made it into words. Some were abused. Some were abandoned. Some were constantly told they were "too emotional." Some grew up believing their feelings didn't matter. And many of us are still carrying those little girls inside us.
That is exactly why I wrote my book, Permission to Feel, Freedom to Live.🥹
It's a book for every woman who has ever questioned her emotions. For every woman who learned to stay silent just to survive. For every woman who is tired of pretending she's okay.
Inside this book, we talk about the emotions we bury, the wounds we carry into adulthood, how our childhood shapes the women we become, and how healing begins when we finally give ourselves permission to feel.
If you've ever read one of my stories and thought,
"It feels like she's writing about me..." Then this book is for you.
If this story made you feel seen, I promise you... The book will take you even deeper. It might just help you understand parts of yourself you've never been able to explain.
Click the link in my bio to pre-order your copy today.
And if you're a woman...
I genuinely hope you give yourself this gift. You deserve to be understood. You deserve to heal. And above all... You deserve the freedom to feel.🤎🥹
I didn't know when tears filled my eyes..I hope girls like this get the healing and justice they deserve