Confessions Of An English Opium-eater Novels & Stories

The alcohol clouded my judgment, making resistance feel distant. That son of a bitch asked for transparency, yet he is setting me up with his friends or maybe not…. ‘Oh! Poppy, you’re a fuck slut, just look at how these men are eating you raw with their eyes and hand… every man that sees you wants to have a share of your pussy. You should leave’ my thoughts echoed, but I delayed.

Not only have I lost one of my children, but I have to watch the other one fall apart; blame himself for his brother's departure, watch his own mate fall apart, knowing there's nothing he can do to save her. "Baby? Come on, you need to eat." Holden murmurs softly at my side, trying to coax me into eating a cereal bar- he knows me well enough to know when I'm stressed, I won't eat proper meals, I pick. I snatch the raspberry and white chocolate chewy oat bar, and rip open the wrapper, "thanks." I mumble. This soul destroying scene keeps invading my consciousness; Declan unconscious, bleeding.. Suffering.. Being tortured and abused.

“Ha! Life no fair,this life no balance!” I suddenly felt an arm on my shoulder. “I am sorry”. I looked back and saw the remorseful face of the person that slapped me at the dining hall.”You’ll need some money to take care of the sore on your face”. He dropped some N200 notes on my bed. “ Omo see money” I thought. The sight of the money dried up my tears immediately. I didn’t need anyone to tell me “Apology accepted”. A smile sneaked from my face out of my undue excitement. “Bro, it’s okay”. I took a deep breath. He stretched out his hand for a handshake. “We cool bruh?”. “We cool” I replied. That was how I got to meet Ebuka. He was a cool guy with a Londoner accent. He came from a well-to-do