‘Who is it?’

‘It is love, love is calling’


‘Beep, beep, beep, beep…’

Laraba is reclining on her couch when her world is once again shaken to the very core.

She was feeling good. This feeling was attributable to the fact that she has emptied one bottle of chardonnay already at only 7:00am in the morning.

When the call comes in, she snaps out of her alcohol induced stupor.

She tries to stand but sways on her feet.

She falls down and hits her head on the edge of the granite center table.

There is no one to help her, she has sent all her staff packing.

Her once sparkling home is now covered with dust and cobwebs, the curtains hang limply from the windows and the doors dangle precariously from their hinges.

Ever since Dragon Mother broke the news to her, she had gone off on a tangent. She had fits of rage where she destroyed anything and everything in sight.

These often ended with her bleeding from cuts all over which she never bothered to treat.

Laraba is a map of cuts and bruises, her face hollow and gaunt. She had taken to wearing the clothes that the servants left behind, defacing them in a show of dejection and helplessness. Often binging on alcohol, she would throw up on herself and bask in the foulness of her body oozing from every pore.

She didn’t bother shower or even pay attention as her menstrual cycle came and went.

The fountain of her youth had dried up leaving her looking like a cross between a deranged animal and an old woman who had spent her life hooked on drugs.

As she lay there, she relived her life from the very beginning. She cast her mind back to how she was a lovely child, the cynosure of all eyes.

A pure untainted flower dripping fragrance and comeliness.

She was the Laraba who made old men smile and little babies giggle.

She was the Laraba who Tahar loved with all his heart.

The same Laraba who Mukhtar tried to win over with his rare dedication and absolute love.

She threw it all away and decided to focus on her irrational anger at the perceived injustice of life to her. If there was a Creator, he had tried for her and in return she had become this-

The whore of Rivers State

The washing bowl of married men

The pawn of Dragon Mother

She remembered with regret every man she had ever had, her double faced life trying to please people who should never have mattered.

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