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Little Rhamie's Seashore, Lagos (2026)

Just that little xoxo trying her best. Pen down my imagination as stories, shares my feelings and emotions as poems. Just wanna make everyone realistic, not everytime must there be a smile, also not everytime must everything be stiff. I'm a teenager, so incase of misunderstandings, overlook, uh? My xoxos♡
˙❥

A petal of flower it may seem to be
Admire like they're no issues
Cos of the shining side
Right there in me is a thorn
A thorn of life.

--- Little Rhamie ✍️

23/08/2025

HIS FAVORITE "NO"
"The No That Shook His Ego"

__________________
Book by: Adebayo Aliyat Opeyemi, Little Rhamie ✍️
DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!

Book by: Adebayo Aliyat Opeyemi, Little Rhamie ✍️
DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!

*
BEEN A WHILE, AND I'M SORRY FOR NOT POSTING. I'VE BEEN BUSY. DO WELL BY CLICKING THE LIKE BUTTON AND DROPPING A COMMENT. SHARE TOO. LOVE YA, XOXO 💙💋

MUAH 💋

- Adebayo Aliyat Opeyemi, Little Rhamie ✍️

NINE AND TEN AND ELEVEN.

Her mouth trembled under his touch, so delicate, so breakable. He leaned closer, studying every flicker of movement, every small reaction she gave without knowing.

“You feel it, even in your sleep,” he murmured under his breath. His hand lingered at her jaw, steady, possessive, unwilling to let her turn away.

He stayed like that, his thumb resting just below her lip, his eyes fixed on her face as though she belonged entirely to him in this quiet, unconscious surrender.

*

Her friends came minutes minutes later, and attended to her. They cleaned her up and wore her pad.

Chiamaka was a little over Fellow, before they took her up but he remained frozen, didn't give her any bit of attention.

They left few minutes later.

*

Rihanna slapped one of her girls immediately she entered and the girl Oluchi yelped.

"What on earth did you guys do? You guys made him touch her and neglect me!" She screamed.

"Exactly what you told us, punish her..." Oluchi was interrupted by another slap again.

"Shut the crap up!" Rihanna yelled and Oluchi stepped back.

'What does she want exactly?' Oluchi thought.

*

TEMI'S POV*

•

Saturday came faster than I thought, and I had to leave for home in the morning to prepare for tonight's dinner.

It happens once in a while.

My parents anytime they're back from one trip or the other makes us have dinner. I even heard that dad was campaigning for the local government chairman post and...

I've got a lot on my plate right now and that is the least of my worries.

It had always been the same scenario anyway—Mum would be chattering about her friends and their endless parties, her voice rising and falling like a song that only she could hear.

She would be laughing at her own stories, sometimes even before reaching the punchline, as though she was trying to convince us all that everything was as lively as she wanted it to be.

My brother would be sitting across from me, cold as ever. He would be pushing food around his plate, answering in clipped words when spoken to, retreating behind that wall of silence he had been building for years.

His eyes would never meet mine for long, and I would always wonder where exactly his thoughts were drifting while the rest of us pretended to be present.

Dad, of course, would be glued to his phone. His fingers would be tapping, scrolling, typing, pausing only to nod whenever Mum’s voice rose like she was expecting acknowledgement.

His campaign had already started swallowing him whole, and even when he was sitting right there, it felt like he was somewhere far away, shaking hands and making promises that none of us could hear.

And I would just be there, trying to stitch us all together with my eyes, watching the scene repeat itself as though it had been rehearsed a thousand times.

Four people sitting under the same roof, at the same table, sharing the same meal, yet somehow living in four different worlds.

The food would be going cold, but that wasn’t the part that hurt. It was us. We were all present, but none of us were really there.

When I got home, the sound of the guitar welcomed me. Slow, soft notes lingered in the air, as if the walls themselves had learned the melody. Each string carried a warmth that eased the weight of the day, and for a moment, time seemed to rest in the hush between chords.

"My brother," I muttered, "My best friend."

I started hearing "welcome, welcome," everywhere but I merely nodded and climbed the stairs.

I walked up to his door and pressed my ear against it, he was singing softly even though I couldn't make out the lyrics.

I started hearing "welcome, welcome," everywhere but I merely nodded and climbed the stairs.

I walked up to his door and pressed my ear against it, he was singing softly even though I couldn't make out the lyrics.

I hesitated, my hand hovering above the k**b. For a moment, I just stood there, listening, letting his voice fill the cracks I hadn’t realized were forming inside me. It was fragile, almost like the sound would shatter if I breathed too loud.

Finally, I pushed the door open.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, head bowed, eyes closed, singing to no one in particular. A notebook lay open beside him, pages full of lines and scribbles, the kind of words he never shared out loud.

When he noticed me, he stopped mid-verse. The room fell into a silence so complete I could hear my own pulse in my ears.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I whispered.

He gave me a tired smile—the kind that carried more weight than it should—and patted the spot next to him.

For the first time in weeks, I sat down, and neither of us said anything. We didn’t need to.

His song still lingered in the air between us, and in that quietness, I realized it was the only welcome I had been searching for all along.

We sat there for a long moment, the silence not heavy but calm, like a blanket. Then he picked up the notebook and held it out to me.

“Here,” he said, almost silently. “It’s… not finished. But I want you to read it.”

I blinked at him. He never shared his writing—not even scraps, not even a single line. Slowly, I took the book and read the first words.

They were raw, clumsy in some places, but honest—lines about laughter we’d shared, nights spent dreaming of impossible futures, and the kind of loyalty that only comes from family... and love.

By the time I looked up, he was watching me, uncertain.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, and I meant it. My throat tightened, but not from sadness—from gratitude.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his smile reached his eyes. He leaned back on his hands and exhaled.

“You know,” he murmured, “I don’t think I could’ve written any of it without you.”

I closed the notebook and set it between us, careful, like it was something sacred. “Then we’ll finish it together,” I replied.

His laughter was soft, but it warmed the room, and in that moment, I realized: whatever storms had been gathering, they couldn’t take this from us. Not the music. Not the bond. Not the hope that, somehow, we’d always find our way back to each other.

"You have a crush?" I asked after a while.

He nodded, "On a senior student."

"Really?" I looked astonished, I was sure.

"Yeah," He nodded again, "Since Year 1."

"And you haven't told her?"

He chuckled, "Yep."

I nodded, "She sure doesn't know the coolest guy on earth his crushing on her, cos if she does, she'd immediately grab you."

He chuckled softly again, "You look dull. Is it your tide?"

I nodded, he always know when I'm on.

"Sorry, how's school? Hope no problem?"

"No, thanks."

My mind drifted to Fellow immediately, "Except that I slapped a stupid senior and they told me to fag for him for a month."

"Oops, sorry about that. Be good, okay?"

"Okay," I answered and he rubbed my head.

*

STRICTLY BY ADEBAYO ALIYAT OPEYEMI, LITTLE RHAMIE ✍️

*

NIGHT*

__

*

They brought a blue gown for me, not mini, not short either, and a bone straight wig, with a matching Cinderella shoes and I wondered what the occasion was.

I mean, if it was a family dinner as mum said, it should be as simple as possible.

The stylist came and styled my hair, did a light makeup, and before I knew it, I was all dressed up. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled faintly. It wasn’t too much, but it wasn’t casual either.

I sighed. “For just a family dinner?” I whispered under my breath.

Still, I slipped into the shoes and followed Mum’s instructions. Whatever it was, I would find out soon enough.

___

*

LIVING ROOM*
*

Dad sat down on his usual chair and mum kept walking around to ensure that everything's in order.

"Are we expecting visitors?" I asked.

"Obviously," I heard my brother's voice, Tolu, beside me.

"Who are they?" I turned to him.

His eyes were on the wall clock distantly," Some influential people that's gonna help dad get there."

I sighed. What was I thinking anyway?
Dad sat down on his usual chair and mum kept walking around to ensure that everything's in order.

"Are we expecting visitors?" I asked.

"Obviously," I heard my brother's voice, Tolu, beside me.

"Who are they?" I turned to him.

His eyes were on the wall clock distantly," Some influential people that's gonna help dad get there."

I sighed. What was I thinking anyway?

Mum’s heels clicked against the tiled floor as she adjusted the flower vase for the third time. Dad didn’t move, just sat still, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, the way he always did when he was nervous but wanted to look composed.

Tolu kept his eyes on the clock, saying nothing.

The silence in the room thickened until it was broken by the low rumble of engines rolling past the gate. Tires crunched against the gravel driveway, deliberate and steady.

Mum straightened instantly, smoothing her dress. Dad’s drumming stopped.

Tolu’s gaze shifted from the clock to the window.

They had arrived.

Through the curtains, beams of headlights swept briefly across the living room wall before vanishing. Doors opened, shut. The muffled sound of voices carried in, deep and assured, the kind of voices that didn’t ask for permission to be heard.

Dad rose slowly from his chair, straightening his tie in the mirror without a word. Mum was already at the door, her hand lingering on the k**b as though steadying herself.

Tolu finally blinked, his face unreadable.

The front door opened, and the night air drifted in—cool, carrying with it the faint smell of exhaust and expensive cologne. Figures moved into the light, their shadows stretching long across the floor.

And just like that, the house no longer felt like ours.

An elderly man entered first, the man looked forty, not old, but worn smooth like stone. His face was sharp, almost elegant, a kind of beauty that felt distant. His beard was trimmed close, his hair slicked back, silver just touching the edges.

Handsome, yes—but in the way of ice: clear, hard, untouchable. His eyes were pale, unreadable, already pulling the warmth out of the room.

Then a younger version of him entered.

A young man in his twenties stepped in. He was tall, dark-skinned, and handsome, the kind of man who drew eyes without trying. His jaw was sharp, his stare cold, and there was nothing friendly about the way he carried himself.

Just then he smirked, and only then did I realize who it was...

"Princess?" He mouthed quietly.

"Stupid Fellow?" I blurted out.

*

TBC.

When I say "STUPID", you say "FELLOW"

STUPID? 🎤

17/08/2025

HIS FAVORITE "NO"
"The No That Shook His Ego"

__________________
Book by: Adebayo Aliyat Opeyemi, Little Rhamie ✍️
DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!

Book by: Adebayo Aliyat Opeyemi, Little Rhamie ✍️
DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!

*

I had typed this chapters in a rush, so make sure you do well by commenting. Click on the like 👍 button and comment. Lemme know your thoughts about this ♡

Love ya, xoxo 💙

Little Rhamie ✍️

*

SIX AND SEVEN AND EIGHT.

I was on my knees already, and my trousers was heavily stained.

The biker looked at my face the next second and everything paused.

"Crazy Fellow?" I muttered weakly.

"Yes Princess?"

"Help me please."

*

---

The world slipped away from me, and before I knew it, there was nothing but blackness.

When I woke faintly, the engine’s growl was beneath me, steady, almost comforting. I was pressed against him, his arm secure around me, as if even unconscious I couldn’t escape his hold. The night air was sharp on my skin, but against him, I felt warm. Safe, even in the storm of it all.

I woke to the smell of lemonade and... I'll just call it citrus, and the ache in my knees reminded me I hadn’t dreamed the night before. The blanket slipped a little as I sat up, and that’s when I saw him—slouched in a chair nearby, arms folded, watching me with eyes that hadn’t softened even once.

“You stare at people while they sleep?” I croaked, my voice rough.

One eyebrow lifted. “You snore.”

I blinked, heat rushing to my face. “I do not.”

“Like a chainsaw,” he muttered, leaning back in the chair. His mouth curved, just a little, like he enjoyed the way I scowled.

I huffed, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “You could’ve at least put me in a proper bed. What kind of host dumps a girl on the couch?”

He tilted his head at me, expression flat. “The kind who drags her half-dead off the street in the middle of the night.”

I ignored that, crossing my arms. “You should make me breakfast.”

That got a reaction—his eyes narrowing, his lips twitching like he couldn’t decide if I was serious. “You faint in the dirt, bleed on my jacket, and demand breakfast?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, lifting my chin.

For a long second, he just stared. Then he stood up, looming over me, and I thought I’d pushed too far. But instead of snapping, he bent down close enough that his breath brushed my cheek.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

“And yet,” I whispered back, “you carried me here.”

The silence between us thickened. He straightened, shaking his head, but I caught the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth as he walked toward the kitchen.

“Don’t expect much, Princess,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re getting burnt toast at best.”

I smirked under the blanket. Victory.

Just then my eyes widened. I covered my face with the blanket immediately.

I slept in this jackass house and woke up talking to him normally, maybe - romantically.

The girls from last night memories hit me immediately. The slaps and my... Red tide!

I looked at my body immediately, I'm on hoodie and sweatpants and I felt sanitary pad.

My brain flew away immediately, "Did you change my clothes and my..."

He arched his brow, "Your?"

I blinked.

“Underwear?!” I shrieked, my voice cracking so loud even the walls should’ve felt secondhand embarrassment for me.

He didn’t even flinch. Instead, his lips twitched into that infuriating smirk of his. “Relax, drama queen. Do I look like I’d risk my sanity for that?”

I gaped at him, torn between relief and the urge to hurl a pillow at his smug face. “Then how—?”

He leaned back lazily against the headboard, arms crossed. “Your little army of friends barged in last night. Nearly broke my door, by the way. They took care of you. I just tossed you the hoodie and sweatpants so you wouldn’t bleed all over my sheets.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I wanted to dig a hole right there and vanish. “You could’ve led with that instead of letting me think—”

“What? That I’d undress a girl who looked like she was ready to murder me even in her sleep? Please. I value my life.”

I bit my lip, half mortified, half… oddly touched... on the lips.

He cocked his head, eyes narrowing playfully. “Unless…” he drawled, “you actually wanted me to?”

“Shut up!” I yanked the blanket over my head, wishing it could swallow me whole, while his low chuckle filled the room.

His chuckle didn’t stop. If anything, it grew richer, echoing in my ears under the blanket.

I peeked out just enough to glare. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly, stretching like he owned the place—which, technically, he did. “How often do I get to see the mighty you completely flustered? This is historical.”

“Historical, my ass,” I muttered. “If word gets out about this, I swear—”

“What?” His smirk sharpened. “You’ll slap me again? You still owe you for last night, remember?”

My stomach dropped. The memory of the girls, the chaos, the sting of my own palm against his face—it all flickered back. I shifted uncomfortably, hugging the blanket tighter.

Noticing my silence, his grin faltered for the first time. He tilted his head, studying me. “Hey. Don’t overthink it.” His tone was softer now, almost careful. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard.

Then, as if realizing he’d said too much, he cleared his throat and leaned back, smirk snapping back into place. “Besides, it’s not like I’d ever let a girl bleed out on my bed. That’d be murder for the sheets.”

“Unbelievable,” I groaned, chucking the nearest pillow at him.

He caught it effortlessly, eyes glinting. “What? I’m just being practical.”

I scowled, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me, twitching upward.

*

"What the heck?" TM said immediately I got back.

Milky for the first time ever pulled me to her side, "Tell me, what happened? How was your night?"

She grinned naughtily. I frowned.

"Well-" I stopped when I noticed they were paying what I'd call too much attention.

"Well?" Milky couldn't wait.

"My night was..."

Bad, I was gonna say, but felt bad by that. My night wasn't bad, I slept so peacefully and founded Fellow a little bit cool and felt comfortable with him. I had refused the coffee he made even though I didn't feel like it...

"Temi?" Chiamaka snapped.

I blinked, "Okay! My night was okay."

"Just okay?" TM asked.

I nodded, "What else?"

I walked to my bed, "Moreover why didn't you guys bring me back yesterday when you came to clean me up at his? Why did you let me spend the night with that jackass?"

"What jackass? Oh now he's a jackass? You refused to leave his bed no matter how we tried to drag you. Moreover you fainted, he saved you and called us. He could have easily kidnapped you y'know, and punish you for all you've done,"Milky said.

I bit my lip before nodding, "Thanks."

"To him, not to us," Chiamaka said, "he's a good guy, I do know that."

I rolled my eyes.

"So..." I heard Chiamaka's voice behind me again, "the fa***ng, are you doing it? It's starting on Monday."

I nodded negatively, "I don't think so, I mean I'm not a slave."

"I think you should use it to pay him back, just help him with his stuff for a month and your reputation will be back, you'll be on his good side and you also stand no risk of being rusticated," Chiamaka convinced.

"Don't mind her, as for me Temiloluwa myself, if I have a chance to be with Fellow for just a day as a slave, I'd pray it should never end. I mean, look at him, " TM gushed.

Chiamaka came closer to me, "Please do it."

I looked at her face, "Do you by chance LIKE him? Cos I noticed you're always a little extra when it gets to him?"

"Hell no, " She spat, "especially not that cold guy."

I looked away.

____

*
Strictly by Adebayo Aliyat Opeyemi, Little Rhamie ✍️

*
_____

*

FLASHBACK*
LAST NIGHT*
AUTHORESS ALIYAT LITTLE RHAMIE'S POV*

*

---

She was already on her knees, her trousers heavily stained.

The biker looked at her face the next second, and everything seemed to pause.

“Crazy Fellow?” she whispered weakly.

“Yes, Princess?” he replied.

“Help me, please.”

And then the world slipped away from her. Darkness consumed everything.

When she stirred faintly again, she was no longer on the ground. The steady growl of the engine thrummed beneath her, strangely comforting. She was pressed against him, his arm firm around her, holding her as though even unconscious, she would not be allowed to slip away. The night air was sharp against her skin, but against him she felt warmth. Safe, even amidst the storm of it all.

He decided against taking her back home, but to his place because of some personal reasons and carried her carefully from the bike.

He entered the sitting room and surprisingly met Rihanna still waiting.

"F-babe, why are you carrying her?"

"Out!" He voice came out coldly.

"F-babe..." She was interrupted abruptly.

"Out of here Rihanna!" He growled and she quickly took her bag and led to the exit.

Temi stirred painfully on his arms still unconscious and he felt somehow that she was in this so much pain because of him.

He didn't understand why, but the stubborn kid as he calls her felt calm to him... She felt like peace.

He dropped her on the couch and dialled Chiamaka's number. She picked up on the first ring.

📞 CHIAMAKA: Hi Fellow, good evening. This one you called, hope...

📞 FELLOW: The princess is here, come and take care of her.

📞 CHIAMAKA: The princess? Which princess?

📞 FELLOW: The spoilt princess.

📞 CHIAMAKA: Oh, is it Temi, what's she doing at...?

📞 FELLOW: Be quick.

And then, he hung up.

Temi winced on his couch and he saw that she was stained, her lip was bleeding too.

He didn't necessarily touch her body, but instead took a towel for her face when he remembered the ice cube and face balm Rihanna brought for him minutes ago.

Rising, he strode to the balcony, his movements swift, purposeful and returned with them in his grasp.

She was sleeping, her breath shallow, her body slack against the couch. He gently pressed the ice cube gently against her face again. She winced, her lips parting as if to protest, but no sound followed.

He held it there a moment longer than necessary, watching how her skin reacted to the cold, how even in sleep she couldn’t escape the sting.

When the cube melted down to water, he let a drop run along the curve of her jaw before wiping it away with his thumb.

The balm came next.

He dipped his finger and brushed it slowly across her torn lip. She twitched at the contact, a soft sound slipping past her throat, and his gaze darkened.

Her mouth trembled under his touch, so delicate, so breakable. He leaned closer, studying every flicker of movement, every small reaction she gave without knowing.

“You feel it, even in your sleep,” he murmured under his breath. His hand lingered at her jaw, steady, possessive, unwilling to let her turn away.

He stayed like that, his thumb resting just below her lip, his eyes fixed on her face as though she belonged entirely to him in this quiet, unconscious surrender.

*

TBC.

The last scene, somebody say "FIRE!" 🔥

15/08/2025

HIS FAVORITE "NO"
"The No That Shook His Ego"

__________________
Book by: Adebayo Aliyat Opeyemi, Little Rhamie ✍️
DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!

Book by: Adebayo Aliyat Opeyemi, Little Rhamie ✍️
DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!

THREE AND FOUR AND FIVE.

The football coach tried stepping in, but he (Fellow) raised his hand and the coach stopped immediately.

"You can do better princess," He said again.

And I slap him again, this time with my other hand cause the first was hurting.

"Idiot!" I said and tried walking away when he pulled me back.

He leaned towards me and whispered into my ears," Are you ready for payback princess?"

*

I felt shivery.

I realized what I've done at that moment. I've slapped him again. I realized I just came closer to he whom I'm running from. At that moment, I felt bad. Very bad.

The bewildered look from everyone's face was enough to get me a little more embarrassed than an average embarrassed person should be.

***

MINUTES LATER*
DEAN OF STUDENT AFFAIRS*
OFFICE*
TEMI'S POV*

*

We sat on different chairs - myself and Fellow - waiting for the dean of student affairs, Mr Israel. He's the one in charge of the school's discipline for students.

Everywhere felt stiff, and as I sat on the chair, I trembled?

Was what I did so terrible? I hardly just got here so what's going on? I'm a fresher and all this? Am I going to get rusticated? What am I going to tell dad? What would happen to me?

'Maybe I shouldn't have done that, I should have just avoided him,' I thought.

'Nah!,' my subconsciousness was taking over, 'he was so rude and what you did was the right thing. Such a rude spoilt boy.'

And that gave me the exact ginger I needed. I mean who hit someone with a ball and refuses to apologize? Good for him.

But then I remembered what he told me last.

"Are you ready for the payback princess?" His voice had a replay in my head.

Payback? I trembled again.

Is he going to hurt me?

Just then I looked towards his direction and felt his eyes on me.

I rolled my eyes and he chuckled.

Just then, the dean, Mr Israel entered.

I stood up immediately,"Good afternoon sir."

He waved me down, and I sat.

"Hi dean," Fellow said.

Mr Israel nodded, "Footballer."

I scoffed in my head.

He asked me to explain what happened and I did. He nodded and adjusted his glasses.

"Footballer?" He gestured to Fellow.

"What she said," He replied, as cold as stone.

"Uh?" Even Mr Israel looked surprised.

"Exactly what she said,"He repeated.

I looked at his direction and our eyes met. He smiled darkly.

He looked at me coldly… and the silence between us seemed to stretch until it froze the air itself. A shiver crept up my neck, slow and deliberate, sinking icy fingers into my bones, as if time had decided to linger here just to watch me unravel.

I felt everything stop. I felt ripped. I ... well, felt... scared.

Mr Isreal cleared "So Temi you dare slap your senior?"

My head sparkled, "No sir, he hit me and I..."

I was interrupted abruptly, "You shut up!"

Mr Isreal screamed and continued, "You spoilt brat, are you guys mate? You know what? I've concluded. First, for the insult and audacity. Second, for countless slaps. Thirdly, for disrespecting your senior, and for..."

I locked eyes with Fellow immediately, "You guys are joking, right?"

Mr Israel slammed on his desk, "Well your punishment it is a month fa***ng!"

Fa***ng?

"What the hell is fa***ng?" I screamed before I could control myself.

"The chat gpt on your phone ain't working no more?" Mr Isreal retorted.

I blinked back tears immediately.

"And if I don't?" I said sharply said trying to control my tears.

Mr Israel sat back on his swivel chair and removed his glasses, "You don't wanna know."

And right there and then, I made up my mind.

"I'm not doing it, no matter what it is!"

*

This is strictly by Adebayo Aliyat Opeyemi, Little Rhamie Royal ✍️

*
______

*EVENING*

TEMI'S POV*

💟 TEMI: What does fa***ng mean in Nigeria uni?

💟 CHAT GPT: “Fa***ng” – the widely understood boarding-school term for making a junior serve a senior, whether as routine or punishment.

💟: TEMI: Can you explain it better?

💟: CHAT GPT: If you want something more formal-sounding, you could call it:

“Service punishment”

“Errand duty”

“Senior service” (informal slang in some schools)

"I'm finished," I soliloquized.

I had ignored the girls who were so mad at me, and the way the students gave me looks when I was returning from the dean's office in the afternoon was crazy.

I kept my head down, pretending my phone was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Their whispers felt like tiny darts hitting the back of my neck. Every laugh from across the hallway sounded sharper, like it was aimed at me. Even the lockers seemed louder when they slammed, echoing the tension I was trying to ignore.

"Should I do it?" I muttered.

"Yes you should, it's your reputation at stake here. I mean you just entered this school and you're already causing chaos like this," My subconsciousness told me.

"It'll be like I'm a slave then, I mean, I've got self-esteem," I muttered again.

"Such a proud girl, so you can’t just do it for a month and be free," my subconsciousness was at it again.

I clenched my jaw. "Free? You call crawling back to him freedom?"

"It’s survival," the voice snapped. "And you’re already dangling off the edge. One wrong move and they’ll push."

I hated how right it sounded. My chest felt tight, like the walls of the school were still closing in around me. I imagined their faces, their smirks, the way they’d look at me if I gave in—like they’d won.

"No," I breathed, my voice steady now. "I’m not bending. Not for them."

The voice went quiet, but the silence felt heavier than the words ever did.

I took my phone and dialled my dad's number. It rang twice but he didn't pick up.

I dialled my mum's number next and she picked up.

📞 TEMI: Hey mum

📞 TEMI'S MUM: Hey princess

📞 TEMI: Fine mum, there's actually something important I wanna tell...

My mum interrupted 📞: Money, right? I'm gonna

📞 TEMI; No mum, I just...

📞 TEMI'S MUM : I'M KINDA BUSY RIGHT NOW, later.

📞 TEMI: Mum...

📞 TEMI'S MUM: We're having dinner on Saturday, make sure you're there, bye.

And she hung up. My head ached.

I felt pressed immediately but immediately I got to the convenience I realized it was my red tide.

I smacked my head, "Temi, why you? Why all these in just one day?"

I cleaned up and left the bathroom to get my sanitary pad when I realized I just ran out of it. I gave Chiamaka the last pack.

I took some money hurriedly and left for the store down the street.

*

This is strictly by Adebayo Aliyat Opeyemi, Little Rhamie Royal ✍️

*

APARTMENT*
AUTHORESS LITTLE RHAMIE'S POV*
UPSTAIRS*
BALCONY*

•

Fellow's hand worked swiftly on the paint board, his body a little stained with paint. He was painting a beach.

The beach had soft, golden sand that stretched far. The sea was a deep blue, with small white waves breaking at the shore. A few shells were scattered on the sand, and seabirds flew slowly above. Out on the horizon, a small sailboat floated in the distance.

He looked quite peaceful as he painted it, but his face still looked cold... amd dark.

He smirked when he remembered what Temi did either. The brush paused, his eyes narrowed.

"Such a bold kiddo," He muttered.

"Fellow," He heard his coursemate Rihanna called, but didn't move.

She came closer, and touched his hand briefly,"How're you doing? That foolish slapped my baby."

She made to touch his face but he looked away.

"I'm good," He said his eyes still on the board.

Rihanna stared at it for a few seconds, "This is so nice, and beautiful... like you."

Fellow scoffed, "Funny."

She laughed, "I know, right?"

Silence.

"Anyways, I got some icecubes and face balm for you to reduce the pain..."

He interrupted her, his voice as low as ever, "I'm not in pains, she's just a kid."

She shrugged, "Can I apply it for you?"

He nodded negatively.

"Please?"

He nodded negatively again, "I'm not in pain Anna."

She grinned, "I love it when you call me that."

Silence.

"Anyways, guess what?" She said.

He just ignored and focused on his painting.

She shrugged, "You're not even curious, anyway, I did something lovely for you."

A pause. She looked at his face to see his reaction.

"The girl, the spoilt girl, she's probably receiving the lesson of her life right now," She chuckled.

He faced her immediately, "What did you do to her?"

He sounded cold and he had never sounded like that for anyone else before.

"I said, what did you do to her!" He scowled.

Her laugh rang out, brittle in the quiet balcony as his voice took over.

The cold in his tone silenced her giddiness. For a moment she only stared at him, unnerved. "Why do you care? She has no right to touch you. I just—"

"You have no right to touch her!" His words cut through hers like glass.

Her throat tightened. "I thought—"

"You thought wrong." He stepped closer, his voice low, each syllable precise. "She is mine to face. Mine to judge. Mine to punish. Not yours."

The weight of his stare pinned her in place. The room felt smaller, the air heavier.

"You touched what wasn’t yours to touch," he said, his voice colder still, "and in doing so, you touched me."

Her smile faltered completely now, her confidence unraveling in the silence that followed.

And he turned away from her, slowly, deliberately, as though she were no more than a shadow.

"Where is she?" He asked as he pulled his jacket over.

She told him, trembling.

He went downstairs immediately and zoomed off.

*

STREET*
TEMI'S POV*
*

It was getting dark and the street wasn't a busy one. I walked a little bit slow and faster each time because of the crazy pain in my tummy.

My head bangs, my red tide is always crazy. Painful, exhausting and rushing. I hated it so much.

It has surprisingly came few days earlier than usual and heavier. I felt my thighs under my palazzo pants get wet because of the blood and I knew I had to hurry.

I clutched my stomach, the pain twisting deeper, sharper, like a knife pressing from the inside.

Each step felt heavy, I felt so weak, I just wasn't feeling myself. My breath came shallow, ragged. The blood was heavy now, warm against my skin, soaking through the thin fabric. I glanced down in panic, terrified someone might notice, though the street was nearly empty.

The world swayed. My vision blurred at the edges, black creeping in. I pressed my hand to the wall of a closed shop, the rough concrete grounding me just enough to keep standing.

I hated my me**es. Hated how it betrayed me. The tide always came like a storm, unrelenting, merciless. But this time—it felt different. Wrong.

Because why this moment please? Why today? Why add to the list of my problems?

A cold shiver slid down my spine. My knees buckled, but I forced them to move, faster now, stumbling through the silence of the deserted road.

And then I heard it.

Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Following.

The pain in my belly was suddenly no longer the only thing I feared.

I noticed two ladies first, all looking normal but I felt strange, so I slowed down because they were behind me, just then, another lady coming separately starts working towards my direction.

She got to my side and I started walking with her, "Please, I'm actually uncomfortable with those ladies behind me, can I walk with you?"

She nodded, "Of course."

We had hardly taken two steps when I heard her talk again, "You dare hurt our Fellow."

I felt strange immediately and I stepped back, "Excuse me?"

"Of course, you're excused," She said before hitting hard on the face and I tasted blood immediately.

The two ladies came over and before I could even say my name, they've slapped me up to five times.

I looked around, there was nobody on the street. I felt my flow get heavier in my thighs and my vision blurred.

All of a sudden a power bike zoomed to where we were and the ladies scampered away.

I was on my knees already, and my trousers was heavily stained.

The biker looked at my face the next second and everything paused.

"Crazy Fellow?" I muttered weakly.

"Yes Princess?"

"Help me please."

*

TBC.

The last scene, when I say "Help me", you say "please"

HELP ME? 🎤

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