She was walking gently in her sky‑blue uniform—shirt and trousers—which clearly showed it was an Islamiyya uniform. She was in a hurry to get home because it was almost 6 o’clock. By the time she entered their neighborhood, people had already started going to the mosque, and the sky looked like a storm was gathering.
She entered an alley, but after just a few steps she suddenly stopped. She remembered her father’s warning, telling her never to pass through alleys. She turned back, came out of the alley, stepped onto the main road, and continued walking.
He was sitting in the back of the house with his eyes closed, deeply lost in thoughts about how to get that girl. He wanted to show her that he was a real man—someone she would never look away from to admire another. He wanted to put an end to what he saw as her shamelessness.
“Joseph,” he called without opening his eyes.
“Yes sir,” Joseph answered quickly.
“Water,” he said in English.
Joseph handed him a bottle of water. It was then he opened his eyes—and immediately spotted her walking by the roadside. He stared carefully until he was sure it was her.
“Park,” he ordered.
He then instructed them to grab her. Without hesitation, they stepped out. When she saw strange men approaching her, she panicked and ran. With one jump, he caught her, threw her over his shoulder. She fought him—hitting, screaming, biting—crying out, “You kidnapped me! You’re taking me away! Oh my father!”
He opened the car door, shoved her inside, and slammed it shut, then returned to the front seat.
“Well done, Joseph. You’ve done a great job.”
“Thank you sir.”
“You too, Salman, you’ll be rewarded.”
The one called Salman replied, “Thank you sir.”
She stared at him in shock, trying hard to remember his face but failing.
“Who are you people?” she asked.
He looked at her and said, “Just people.”
“So just like that, you’ll kidnap me?”
“You’re asking questions as if you don’t know what you did.”
“Please, for God’s sake, let me go. I’m going home—my father is waiting for me.”
“Oh, you and home forever.”
“You’re lying! You can’t do anything—you’re just wicked and cruel!”
A slap landed on her face before she could finish speaking. She clutched her cheek as tears streamed down her face.
“If I hear you open your mouth again, I’ll smash it right here.”
Despite the burning pain from the slap, she still glared at him fiercely. Realizing they had no intention of letting her go, she bent forward, resting her head on her knees, crying helplessly.
Salman stepped harder on the accelerator as if the car was about to fly. She kept crying, calling out to her father. He, however, put on his headphones so he wouldn’t hear her cries.
They arrived at a massive gray gate and stopped. The horn was pressed three times. The sound made her lift her head. She stared in amazement at the size of the gate, thinking to herself, “Surely this isn’t a place where they slaughter people.”
As she was thinking, the gate opened. She saw no one—no guard, no person opening it. They drove inside. As soon as they entered, she looked around in disbelief. What shocked her most was that once the gate closed, it felt like they had left the road entirely—there was complete silence everywhere, only the sound of birds. There were no houses in sight, just empty surroundings.
They reached another gate. Again, the horn was sounded, and it opened. They entered. She stared wide‑mouthed at the building’s structure. This clearly wasn’t anywhere in Nigeria. The entire front of the house was made of glass.
Her heart whispered to her, “Are you sure this isn’t a dream? What kind of house is this?”
Her thoughts were interrupted.
“Get down.”
That was when she came back to her senses. There were about twenty heavily built bodyguards around, and fear completely took over her.
“Aren’t you moving?” she heard him say.
He had already gone ahead. Everywhere he passed, people moved aside instantly. She was dragged inside. Her knees almost gave way at the beauty of the house—it was even more stunning inside.
She spoke with her mouth still open, “Please, where is this place? Where have you brought me? Please forgive me and take me back to my father.”
He stopped without turning back and said, “Joseph, take her to a room and give her food.”
“Okay sir.”
He then entered the elevator in the living room.
Joseph grabbed her hand and led her to another elevator. They arrived at a massive bedroom—perfectly furnished, beyond description.
Joseph said, “The toilet is over there. Go and bathe before the boss comes,” speaking in his thick Hausa accent.
He then left and locked the door.
She collapsed to the floor, crying, thinking of the condition her father must be in.
Description
She was walking gently in her sky‑blue uniform—shirt and trousers—which clearly showed it was an Islamiyya uniform. She was in a hurry to get home because it was almost 6 o’clock. By the time she entered their neighborhood, people had already started going to the mosque, and the sky looked like a storm was gathering.
She entered an alley, but after just a few steps she suddenly stopped. She remembered her father’s warning, telling her never to pass through alleys. She turned back, came out of the alley, stepped onto the main road, and continued walking.
He was sitting in the back of the house with his eyes closed, deeply lost in thoughts about how to get that girl. He wanted to show her that he was a real man—someone she would never look away from to admire another. He wanted to put an end to what he saw as her shamelessness.
“Joseph,” he called without opening his eyes.
“Yes sir,” Joseph answered quickly.
“Water,” he said in English.
Joseph handed him a bottle of water. It was then he opened his eyes—and immediately spotted her walking by the roadside. He stared carefully until he was sure it was her.
“Park,” he ordered.
He then instructed them to grab her. Without hesitation, they stepped out. When she saw strange men approaching her, she panicked and ran. With one jump, he caught her, threw her over his shoulder. She fought him—hitting, screaming, biting—crying out, “You kidnapped me! You’re taking me away! Oh my father!”
He opened the car door, shoved her inside, and slammed it shut, then returned to the front seat.
“Well done, Joseph. You’ve done a great job.”
“Thank you sir.”
“You too, Salman, you’ll be rewarded.”
The one called Salman replied, “Thank you sir.”
She stared at him in shock, trying hard to remember his face but failing.
“Who are you people?” she asked.
He looked at her and said, “Just people.”
“So just like that, you’ll kidnap me?”
“You’re asking questions as if you don’t know what you did.”
“Please, for God’s sake, let me go. I’m going home—my father is waiting for me.”
“Oh, you and home forever.”
“You’re lying! You can’t do anything—you’re just wicked and cruel!”
A slap landed on her face before she could finish speaking. She clutched her cheek as tears streamed down her face.
“If I hear you open your mouth again, I’ll smash it right here.”
Despite the burning pain from the slap, she still glared at him fiercely. Realizing they had no intention of letting her go, she bent forward, resting her head on her knees, crying helplessly.
Salman stepped harder on the accelerator as if the car was about to fly. She kept crying, calling out to her father. He, however, put on his headphones so he wouldn’t hear her cries.
They arrived at a massive gray gate and stopped. The horn was pressed three times. The sound made her lift her head. She stared in amazement at the size of the gate, thinking to herself, “Surely this isn’t a place where they slaughter people.”
As she was thinking, the gate opened. She saw no one—no guard, no person opening it. They drove inside. As soon as they entered, she looked around in disbelief. What shocked her most was that once the gate closed, it felt like they had left the road entirely—there was complete silence everywhere, only the sound of birds. There were no houses in sight, just empty surroundings.
They reached another gate. Again, the horn was sounded, and it opened. They entered. She stared wide‑mouthed at the building’s structure. This clearly wasn’t anywhere in Nigeria. The entire front of the house was made of glass.
Her heart whispered to her, “Are you sure this isn’t a dream? What kind of house is this?”
Her thoughts were interrupted.
“Get down.”
That was when she came back to her senses. There were about twenty heavily built bodyguards around, and fear completely took over her.
“Aren’t you moving?” she heard him say.
He had already gone ahead. Everywhere he passed, people moved aside instantly. She was dragged inside. Her knees almost gave way at the beauty of the house—it was even more stunning inside.
She spoke with her mouth still open, “Please, where is this place? Where have you brought me? Please forgive me and take me back to my father.”
He stopped without turning back and said, “Joseph, take her to a room and give her food.”
“Okay sir.”
He then entered the elevator in the living room.
Joseph grabbed her hand and led her to another elevator. They arrived at a massive bedroom—perfectly furnished, beyond description.
Joseph said, “The toilet is over there. Go and bathe before the boss comes,” speaking in his thick Hausa accent.
He then left and locked the door.
She collapsed to the floor, crying, thinking of the condition her father must be in.