All Chapters of Mummy, i didn’t Run Away: The Unwanted Child: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Mummy, there was something else Rose said that made our mouths drop open so wide we couldn’t even close them. She told us about a particular pastor of a very big, well-known church in Nigeria who brought a group of women to that very place. He had lied to them, claiming they were traveling to Libya for a special women’s church convention and outreach program to preach to people. There were about fifteen women in total that this pastor brought along. The moment they arrived, instead of a conference hall or a hotel, he locked them inside a massive warehouse and forced them straight into prostitution. Do you know the craziest part? While Rose was telling us this, she spoke in a frantic whisper. We were all huddled together, bending low and straining our ears just to catch every word. Rose explained that when the women first arrived, they didn’t understand what was going on. When they were locked inside the building, they thought it was just a temporary arrangement. They assumed they w

After three long months of waiting, the day we had prayed for—and dreaded—finally arrived, and a boat appeared. We were all allowed to see it, but nobody moved immediately. The agents didn’t just push us onto the water; they spent hours fixing it, checking every inch to make sure it was structurally sound. Then came the weather checks. They studied the forecasts over and over, waiting for the wind to calm and the sea to clear. Even after the boat was repaired, we had to stay another two whole months just to make sure the boat was in good condition and to make sure the weather was safe. By then, nobody complained anymore. Merely seeing the boat gave us hope, so those extra months didn’t even feel like anything. All of us stayed restless, watching the sea from a distance whenever we were allowed outside. Every few minutes someone would ask if the weather had become better. Every little movement from the agents made our hearts race because we thought they were finally about to call us.

The first time we all went out, we didn’t go alone. That was when I finally understood the true purpose of the men living in the house, the ones we had wondered about when we first arrived. I had asked myself back then whether they were meant to guard us or protect us. Now, the chilling answer was clear. They were our wardens, our shadows, sent to make sure none of us ever found a way to slip away. Two luxurious buses were packed with us that night, driving us out past the city lights into a secluded, unfamiliar area. When we arrived, the reality of it hit me like a physical blow. We were told to line up along the dark, desolate streets. We stood there shoulder to shoulder like goods displayed on a shelf, products meant to be bought, used, and discarded. Because of my background, because I had never known anything about this world, Madam Veronica had taken special time to prepare me. She had handed me the high heels that now dug painfully into my aching feet. She had forced me into t

Going to church every Sunday was a must at Madam Veronica's house. In fact, Madam Veronica is a deaconess in her church, and people respect her. They call her "Mummy," so she always made all of us join her for church, maybe because she wanted to keep up appearances, keep a good record, or just wanted the people in her church to see her as a good person. Since we lived just two blocks away from the compound, going to church wasn't really difficult because the other girls and I usually take the bus while Madam Veronica goes with the car with her husband. The first time we went to the church, it was extremely friendly, especially the pastor’s wife. Even the ushers and workers are mostly friendly. They wanted to know if you were okay because we were first-timers. They gave us food, they gave us drinks. The message was wonderful and even touched my soul. After the service, the pastor's wife came to us, asking us, telling us if we need anything, or if we needed advice on our spiritual life

Mummy, up until that point, I had never held huge money. The little money I ever knew back then was whatever small coins or crumpled notes I managed to keep for myself before handing the rest of our earnings over to Madam Veronica. Back when we were still standing out on the cold streets every night, whatever little money I kept for myself was just enough to buy a bite to eat or hold my breath until the next shift. Every single major wad of cash always went straight to her. The clients paid her before we even walked into the room. To me, big money was just… it was for the adults, for the people who owned us. I never thought I would touch a single cent of it. But one night, it changed. A politician—a very powerful man—had specifically asked for me. When the night was over, he was getting dressed to leave. He didn’t just walk out. He grabbed my hand, pressed something into my palm, and folded my fingers over it. He looked at me, really looked at me, and said, *"Be a good girl."*