spoons&ink

Part 1 The metal handcuffs on Dare’s wrist clinked as he clasped his hands together and leaned his forearms on the table before him. The man in black across from him crossed his legs, adopting a relaxed posture, but Dare could see the muscle in his jaw tic in impatience. “You said you were ready to talk. Now, talk.” The man said, folding his hands across his crossed legs. Dare was silent as the past few days' events ran through his mind. Just five days ago, He had no clue he would be locked up in an EFCC cell, hopeless and powerless. Dare felt disdain rise in him as he thought of the person who put him in this mess. He looked up at the man in black, leaned forward and took a breath… *** Dare’s iPhone 6s vibrated violently on his pillow, the ringtone blurting out of its speakers and jolting him awake. Dare grabbed his phone and brought it towards his face, its brightness almost blinding him and causing him to squint his eyes. He swiped the phone and brought it to his ear. “Hello?” D...

I knelt beside Chief and placed my head close to his nose. Small tufts of air hit my face, and relief, like I never knew it, filled my bones. I sat back on my knees, feeling suddenly very tired. Chief was still alive, though barely. The balled-up paper caught my eye from the corner Chief had thrown it to. I crawled over to it, picked it up, smoothed it, and then read its contents. Chief, This is the girl you said you liked. Treat her well. Thank you for the deposit. I’ll be expecting the balance when you're done with her. Madam Cynthia. The words began to blur as tears filled my eyes. I  knew Madam Cynthia pimped me out to Chief, but it didn’t take the edge off the sting of her betrayal. A sob escaped my throat, and I clamped my hand across my mouth to stop more from coming. I needed to leave. I stood up, the abrupt movement almost twisting my ankles in the deathtrap heels I had on. I pulled them off, deciding instead to trust my bare feet. I walked towards the door and tried to op...

“Do you want to go or not?” Wacko asked. He looked up at me from the chair he lounged lazily on, his dark shades not hiding the amusement on his face. The question was posed in a way that made it seem like I had a choice when I really didn’t. Judging by the annoying smirk that curved Wacko’s lips, I could tell he knew I had no choice. I felt like smacking that smirk off his face. “Yes,” I said, swallowing hard. I cringed as I thought of the implications of my decision. There was no going back at this point. “Good.” Wacko nodded. “Meet me here tomorrow evening, 7 p.m. sharp,” he made a sweeping gesture at the abandoned bus park he claimed as his domain. “The others would be here as well. Then we’ll move. Don’t forget to bring the-” he trailed off, rubbing the tips of his thumb and forefinger together- the universal sign for money. I nodded in understanding, “I will,” I said. “Can I bring someone along?” I asked, my fingers crossed behind my back. “Someone? Who?” Wacko asked, staring at ...