HER BODY, HIS PRICE

The night air was heavy, almost suffocating, as I stood outside the black gate, my hands trembling. The street was quiet too quiet. Only the distant hum of a generator reminded me that the world was still moving. But mine had stopped the moment I decided to come here.

I inhaled deeply, then knocked.

A few seconds later, the gate creaked open. Chris stood there in boxers and a white singlet, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Vanessa? This late?"

"I need to talk," I said, barely meeting his eyes.

He stepped aside, still groggy. I walked past him, each step feeling like a countdown to something irreversible.

Inside the house, nothing had changed. The same expensive chairs, the smell of strong cologne and engine oil, Chris was the kind of man you'd walk past on the street without taking a second look. Fair in complexion and chubby, he wasn't breathtaking, he was just there. Not the type of man I would ever dream of dating if I had a choice. But life doesn't always give you the freedom to choose, especially when survival is on the line.

He had a large round tummy that often made his clothes look like they were fighting for air. His height was average, neither short enough to call small nor tall enough to be impressive. And then there was his bald head, always shiny as if he oiled it deliberately. It gave him an older look than his actual age and somehow made his features seem more exaggerated than they already were.

His eyes were a deep brown, often darting around as though he was suspicious of everyone. But what bothered me the most about Chris wasn't just how he looked, it was how he spoke. Every time he opened his mouth, a few drops of saliva would fly out with his words. I often had to flinch or turn my face slightly to avoid them. It wasn't just irritating, it was unbearable. Watching his wet lips move, knowing I'd have to sit there and pretend to be okay with everything, was torture.

He had this confidence about him that I never understood. Maybe it came from the money he had money that made him feel powerful, wanted, and entitled. Maybe he believed that because he could provide, he automatically became desirable. But he wasn't. Not to me.

Every time we were together, I felt like I was pretending. Pretending to be interested. Pretending to care. Pretending not to feel disgusted when he reached out to touch me or spoke too closely. His laugh was loud, his cologne too strong, and his ego too big. He loved attention, loved the way people treated him like a "big man" just because of his wealth. But beneath all that noise, he lacked something deeper real connection, real charm, real decency.

Chris was a man with money, yes. But that's all he ever had. And sadly, for a while, that was enough for my mother. But never for me.

"Sit," he said. I didn't.

"I... I can't do this anymore, Chris," I blurted. My voice cracked. "We need to break up."

Chris blinked slowly. "What?"

"I've tried. For two years, I've tried. But I don't love you. I never have."

Silence fell like a hammer.

Chris's expression twisted hurt, confusion, and anger all at once. "So... what is this? Joke night?"

"I'm serious," I whispered. "I stayed because Mum said... she said we needed the money. But I'm tired of pretending. I can't live like this."

Chris laughed bitterly, a sound that didn't reach his eyes. "So I was just your ATM?"

"No! I never .... Chris, please. I'm sorry."

He stood up slowly. "Sorry? After everything I've done for you? I bought you phones, clothes and so many other expensive stuffs."

"I'll pay you back," I said quickly.

"With what?" he snapped. "You have a job now?"

I looked down. My heart was racing. "No, but I'll find a way."

He stepped closer. "Or... you pay me tonight. In full."

I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." His eyes were cold now. "Sleep with me. Then we're even."

My breath caught. I wanted to scream, to run, to disappear. But all I did was stand there paralyzed.

"Mum was right," I thought bitterly. "Money over everything even me." "Money over everything, even me."

"See, Chris, we can talk about this," I said shakily, my voice trembling. "There's no need to go this far."

I backed away slowly, heart pounding in my chest. Deep down, I knew the truth, I had never even let Chris touch me in that way, not once in the two years we had dated. And now, the look in his eyes was no longer love, it was possession.

"Oh, come on, Vanessa," he growled, stepping closer. "You really think I'm going to let you walk away, just like that? After everything? Without me taking something back?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words never came. In one sudden, terrifying motion, he grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hallway. I struggled, pleaded, begged "Please, Chris, don't do this!" but he wasn't listening.

Within seconds, I was thrown onto his bed.

I tried to rise, but he was already there blocking me, ignoring my cries. My eyes widened in horror as he removed his singlet, then his boxers. This couldn't be happening. Not like this.

"No... please..." I whispered, my voice cracking.

But outside, the world remained silent. No one heard. No one came.

And then, my nightmare became real.

When it was over, I lay there numb, broken, and exposed. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stared at the ceiling, trying to disconnect from the pain. Chris stood at the edge of the bed, a wicked grin on his face, his tongue flicking out mockingly as if proud of what he had done.

I turned my face away, covered myself with shaking hands, and wept.

You're probably wondering how I ended up in this mess. My name is Vanessa and this is my story.

I was in the kitchen, washing dishes, singing along to one of my favorite Bruno Mars songs when a message notification lit up my phone screen. Curious, I quickly rinsed the soap from my hands, dried them on my clothes, and grabbed the phone.

One look and I froze.

"I've been offered admission to study Mass Communication," the message read.

My heart skipped. I screamed with pure joy, nearly tossing my phone into the sink by accident. I was happy truly happy for the first time in a long while.

After writing JAMB three grueling times, I had finally made it into the university. Not just any university my dream university: UNILAG. And not just any course I was offered Mass Communication, exactly what I prayed for, cried for, and worked for.

I was happy because it wasn't just my dream coming true. It was my dad's too. After all the sacrifices he made going hungry some nights, burying his own dreams just so we could chase ours I was finally the university girl he could boast of. After all the sacrifices he made going hungry some nights, burying his own dreams just so we could chase ours. I was finally the university girl he could boast of. He could stand tall, chest out, and proudly say, "That's my daughter."

It meant more to me than words could ever explain.

In seconds, my dad and siblings came rushing out of their rooms, worry plastered on their faces.

"What is it, Nessa?" my father asked, scanning me for injuries. Mr. Uche Lawrence, my father is the definition of love wrapped in quiet strength. Fair in complexion, tall, and moderately built not too slim, not too fat. Fair in complexion, tall, and moderately built, not too slim, not too fat. He owns a modest skincare business, and with it, he's carried the weight of raising me and my siblings alone since the day my mother walked out on us.

He's always been a gentle man, not just in words but in heart. Even after my mother abandoned us, after everything she said and did, he never let bitterness harden him. I remember the day it all began to fall apart like it was yesterday.

I was just 12, hiding behind the door, listening.

She had asked him for money again and he, with the heaviness of responsibility in his voice, told her he didn't have any at that moment. "Honey, please," he said, "I promise to give you the money next week. I used the one I had to pay Michael and Gabriel's school fees. The school was going to send them out. I couldn't bear to see our children humiliated."

"You are a worthless man," she spat. "You can't even take care of your wife."

That moment stung.

He reminded her of the shop he'd rented for her, the chance he gave her to run her own business, the love he poured into our home. But it wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough.

She hissed, picked up her bag, and walked out. My father collapsed in tears, blaming himself for not being able to give her the life she wanted. And that was only the beginning.

I still remember the day the truth broke him. We were watching Nat Geo Wild laughing, curious about how the lion was about to catch its prey when his phone rang. It was a loud call; the TV was blaring. His friend, a barrister, didn't mince words.

"I saw your wife going into a hotel with a man," he said. "She insulted me when I confronted her. Uche, your wife is cheating on you. Be careful."

My father's smile vanished instantly. That day, the house went silent with pain.

When he confronted her, she didn't deny it.

"Yes," she said. "I slept with another man. A man who could give me what you never could money, clothes, a better life."

And for the first time in my life, I saw my father raise his hand at someone. At her. He didn't shout. He didn't curse. He just broke. My mother packed her bags, ready to leave, and I came out of hiding, sobbing, begging her not to go. My siblings joined me. We cried, not understanding how a mother could walk away so easily.

But she did.

And my father he sat on the floor, lost. Broken.

That was ten years ago.

I'm 22 now. Grown. And proud to see that my father though never remarried has moved on. He still smiles, still puts us first, and still loves with everything he has. He's not perfect. But he's everything a real man should be.

My siblings gathered around, wide-eyed and eager.

"I got in!" I shouted. "I've been given admission!"

"Oh my God! Sis, congratulations!" my younger sister, Faithful, squealed, hugging me tightly. "I'm so happy for you!"

Her words melted something in me.

Just a few days earlier, we had a heated argument. In the middle of her anger, she'd said something that cut deep: "Aren't you too old to still be in this house? Please move out so I can have peace."

I knew she didn't mean it. She came to apologize later, teary-eyed and sorry. But hearing her cheer me on now truly happy for me meant the world.

Faithful. Slim, dark-skinned, with curves that turned heads. Sometimes I looked at her and wondered if we were even related. Her light brown eyes sparkled against her thick, dark short hair. She was breathtaking.

Then there was me chubby, dark-skinned, with a stubborn belly, no curves, deep-set dark eyes, and a front hairline that never quite made peace with the rest of my face. I loved her, though even when I envied her.

"Congratulations, Nessa!" two voices echoed behind us.

I turned and smiled. Michael and Gabriel my twin brothers. Always in sync, looked so alike you'd think they were one person duplicated. But personality-wise, they were night and day. Michael was the lively spark always cracking jokes, making everyone laugh, and lighting up any room he walked into. He was my favorite, if I'm being honest. We were close, like best friends in sibling form.

Gabriel, on the other hand, was the quiet one calm, thoughtful, and observant. He rarely smiled, kept to himself, and while I loved him just as much, we weren't as close. It was like there was a wall between us that never quite came down.

They tackled me in a group hug, lifting me off the ground for a second.

I laughed, my heart full.

That day, everything felt right. My dreams were just beginning.

It was finally the day I'd been dreaming about my first day at the university. I was so excited, filled with joy and nerves all at once. I knew I'd miss my family, but the thought that I could always come home on weekends made it easier. UNILAG wasn't that far.

As I packed the last of my things into the taxi, my siblings gathered outside, their faces a mix of pride and sadness. My dad gave me one of his warm hugs, the kind that made me feel safe no matter what. "Go and make us proud, Nessa," he whispered.

I smiled, waved them goodbye, and stepped into the taxi.

The two-hour drive went by in a blur. My mind was too busy imagining my new life my course, my roommates, new friends, late-night reading, and endless campus gist. I didn't even realize we had arrived until the driver said, "We're here, ma."

"That fast?" I replied, blinking as reality sank in.

I stepped out of the car and took a deep breath. This was it.

The building in front of me was tall and neat, with the name "DIAMOND HOSTEL" boldly written in capital letters across the top. My heart fluttered as I dragged my luggage out of the boot. Dad had already paid the fees and made all the necessary arrangements. The key to my room had been handed to me the day before.

Room 24. That was my new space. My new beginning.

I looked up at the floors and scanned the door numbers. "Room 24," I said softly to myself with a smile. I climbed the stairs, the wheels of my box rattling behind me, until I reached the door.

I dropped my bags on the floor and unlocked it slowly.

The door creaked open, revealing a small but neat room with two beds, two wardrobes, and a single window that let in the soft afternoon light. My roommate hadn't arrived yet. That gave me some time to settle in and breathe.

I stepped inside, took it all in, and whispered to myself, "This is the beginning of something new."

I had just started arranging my clothes into the wardrobe when I heard a knock on the door.

"Who's there?" I asked, curious.

No response.

I hesitated for a moment but walked over and opened the door anyway. Standing there was a girl with a warm smile and a soft-spoken voice.

"Hi, you must be my new roommate," she said, stretching her hand forward. "I'm Joy."

She was pretty dark-skinned, with full virgin hair packed neatly in a bun. Her tight red gown hugged her perfectly shaped body, and although her face had visible acne and dark spots, they didn't take away from her natural beauty. She radiated confidence and warmth.

"Hi, I'm Vanessa," I replied, shaking her hand. "Please, come in."

She smiled as I helped her carry her bags into the room.

It felt good knowing I wouldn't be alone. I had a roommate someone to talk to, maybe share gist with, someone to laugh with when school stress became too much.

As we unpacked and settled in, the room slowly began to feel like home.

Joy hummed quietly to herself as she folded her clothes, and her vibe was calming. There was something about her presence that felt familiar, almost comforting. We didn't say much at first, but the silence wasn't awkward it was peaceful.

For the first time since I arrived, I exhaled deeply and smiled to myself.

Maybe, just maybe... everything was going to be okay.

After unpacking and arranging the room to our taste, it was finally time to rest. I lay back on my bed, stretching a bit and letting out a sigh of relief. I glanced at my phone, it was already past 7 p.m. I was hungry and tired, but before anything else, I wanted to call my dad to let him know I was settled.

I dialed his number.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Still unreachable.

"Maybe he's busy," I thought to myself, trying not to overthink it.

"So, where are you from, Vanessa?" Joy asked, breaking the peaceful silence in the room.

"I'm from Imo State," I replied, sitting up slightly to face her. "What about you?"

"Are you serious?" she gasped. "I'm also from Imo State! Wow it's good to know I've got a sister here as my roommate."

That was sweet of her to say. It warmed my heart a little. I smiled, truly excited to get to know her more. She seemed like a genuinely kind person.

"What course are you studying?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light and polite. First impressions matter, after all.

"Accounting," she replied. "And I'm guessing you're studying Law, right?"

"Oh no," I laughed softly. "I'm studying Mass Communication."

We both chuckled.

Our conversation seemed to be going smoothly, and I kept staring at her because she reminded me of one of my friends named Chineye. Chineye was someone I met during my JAMB exam. She had softly approached me looking kind of confused.

"Hello, please, where do they do thumb printing?" she asked politely.

"That's where I'm heading to," I responded, and just like that, we started vibing naturally. Even though she was soft spoken, she had a way of making one feel at ease. We exchanged contacts, chatted on WhatsApp, and followed each other on all social media platforms. Everything seemed normal.

Then one day, we decided to go for a swimming hangout. That was when I discovered the truth about Chineye.

"I love your swimsuit," she said as she poured out our drinks beside the pool.

"Oh, thank you. I ordered it from Shein. I could help you order if you don't mind," I replied cheerfully.

"Thanks, I appreciate," she responded with a smile.

The water was cool and soothing. The weather was hot, which made swimming the perfect escape. "Cheers," we both said in unison as we clinked our glasses.

But in less than a minute, I started feeling dizzy. Everywhere was spinning. I quickly came out of the pool and headed toward my towel, holding onto my head. I couldn't understand why I was feeling that way, especially since we were drinking fruit wine, not alcohol.

Because of how unwell I felt, we decided to lodge in a nearby hotel. Chineye booked the room while I leaned heavily against her shoulder. I felt completely weak. The moment we got into the room, I collapsed on the bed like a log of wood and passed out.

The next thing I knew, it was morning. I woke up with a severe headache and body pain, like I had been beaten mercilessly. My eyes were heavy, and my body felt strange. I looked around and realized I was naked. Chineye was nowhere to be found.

Panic surged through me. I searched around the room but couldn't find any trace of her. I checked my body again, my arms, legs, then finally my vagina. It was sore. That was when the truth hit me hard I had been raped.

I broke down in tears.

The shock was overwhelming. I laid there for almost an hour, crying my heart out. Then I picked myself up, dragged my aching body to the bathroom, took a long shower, cleaned myself up, and dressed. I checked out of the hotel and went home.

My family was extremely worried about me. I hadn't told anyone where I was going. My dad had already considered filing a missing person report. When he saw me, he looked both relieved and confused. But I couldn't talk. I just went straight to my room and cried all over again.

I tried calling Chineye. She didn't pick. I texted her, sent voice notes, even tried video calling her. No response. She had blocked me on all platforms. I couldn't believe it. I kept wondering how she could do such a thing to me. Someone I trusted. Someone I called a friend.

I slipped into depression for months. I couldn't eat, couldn't laugh. I would just stare blankly into space, sometimes cry myself to sleep. No one knew what was wrong with me. I kept it all to myself. Till this day, I don't know who did it, I don't know if she sold me out or if she drugged me and left me at the mercy of some predator. But what I know is that I lost my virginity that day. Not by choice. Not by love. But by betrayal.

Sometimes, I call myself stupid. Because I trust too much. I always see the good in people, even when I shouldn't. I wish I wasn't soft. I wish I could be wicked. Maybe if I was, none of these would have happened to me.

Sometimes, I wish I was like my younger sister Faithful. Dad never had to worry about her. She never stayed out late. She never gave trouble. She was the perfect daughter.

"So, Mass Communication," Joy said suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah," I replied, blinking quickly to chase the tears threatening to fall.

"That's cool. You look like someone who would do well in that field," she said kindly.

I chuckled. "Well, I hope that aura works during presentations because I get nervous talking in front of crowds."

Joy laughed. "You'll get used to it. We all do eventually."

The room fell into a comforting silence again. I looked at the time. It was getting late. We decided to eat. Joy offered to prepare dinner and I helped her in the small kitchenette section of our room. We made noodles and fried eggs and gulped it down with chilled juice. We sat cross-legged on our beds, chatting softly under the dim yellow bulb that lit up the room like a sunset.

I would say my first night here wasn't so bad after all.

Not just because of the meal or the new environment. But because, for the first time in a long time, I met someone who seemed genuine. Someone who didn't try too hard to impress. Someone who didn't give off fake vibes. Joy seemed like a person I could trust, and I desperately needed that.

After all I had been through, Chris, Chineye, I needed to start fresh.

As I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to Joy hum a slow tune from her side, I allowed myself to feel a little peace. The kind of peace that comes after a long storm. The kind of peace that comes with healing.

I didn't know what the future held in this new phase of my life, but I was ready.

It was morning and the sun shone brightly, reflecting through the curtains into our room. "Good morning," Joy greeted. I looked up and saw her dressed in a white shirt and dark blue flay skirt. Her black shoes shone so perfectly that you could see your face in them. She had sprayed a vanilla and oud perfume blend, which made the whole room smell delightful.

"Good morning," I replied after scanning her from head to toe with both my eyes and mind.

"Aren't you going for lectures? I mean, it's the first day," she asked, already putting on her tie

I immediately reached for my phone. It was already 7:00 a.m.

"OMG! My lecture starts by 8. I better start preparing!" I yelled and dashed into the bathroom.

"I'm off to school, Vanessa. Please make sure you lock the door, and don't forget your key. I might be coming home late today," she said loudly so I could hear from inside. I heard the door click shut behind her.

I came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and wearing a shower cap. I paced around, searching for where I had kept my body lotion. I argued with myself over whether I packed it in my bag or left it at home when I heard a knock on the door. I thought it was Joy, probably back because she forgot something. I didn't hesitate to open it.

"Joy, why are ....." I paused mid-sentence. It wasn't Joy.

It was a guy. Not just any guy. A breathtaking guy. His presence was enough to silence me.

He was nothing like Chris.

Chris. Just thinking of him made me want to roll my eyes. If not for my mother's constant persuasion, I would never have agreed to date him. I remember it vividly, like it happened yesterday.

It started when a guy chatted me up on Facebook. His pictures were attractive, but pictures can be deceiving. When we finally met in person, I was disappointed he was far from what I expected. Average height, chubby, a big tummy, a bald head, and a habit of spitting while talking. I almost puked the first day we met. But he begged and begged to date me. I wasn't sure what to do.

So I went to my mum's house for advice. I needed someone to talk to.

"Hey my baby, come in," she said, opening the door. She stepped aside and let me in. I sat on the green couch.

"You look sad. What's the problem?" she asked. Sometimes, I felt like my mum faked her concern. But right now, I needed someone.

"Mum, I..."

"Before you say anything, did you take the money I asked you to collect from your dad? I hope he didn't suspect you're giving it to me," she cut in.

I opened my bag and handed her ₦20,000 in cash.

"That's my smart daughter! So what were you saying again?" she asked, pretending to care.

"There's this rich guy I met on Facebook. After months of chatting, we met at a restaurant. But mum, he's not what I expected. He's not attractive at all. He asked me to be his girlfriend. I rejected him."

"Wait, what?!" she exclaimed. "You rejected a rich guy?"

"But mum, I don't like him."

"Do you think I liked your father? I agreed to marry him because he had money. He was so rich, he sent his two younger brothers abroad and funded everything. I seduced my way into his heart. Unfortunately, your father fell way too deep for me. Now, with all these responsibilities, things are tough. This isn't the life I pictured. So my dear, if this guy is rich, accept him. Don't you want to help your dad out with some bills? Especially me. I'm not getting younger. Give him whatever he wants as long as he keeps the money coming."

And that was how I agreed to date Chris. For two whole years.

He spoiled my mum. She treated him like her personal ATM. I felt guilty, but his money was paying my bills. I never asked my dad for money. He didn't suspect a thing because my mum told me to lie that I had an online job as a virtual assistant. I even faked earning small amounts from there. Till today, I haven't told my mum that Chris and I are over. I just want to avoid her. She caused everything.

Well, I'm glad Chris's chapter is closed for good.

And now, standing in front of me, was a man who didn't just look good, he had presence.

"Hi, I'm Fred. You must be Joy's roommate," he said with a calm, deep voice.

"Yes... I'm Vanessa," I replied, trying not to sound awkward.

He smiled. His teeth were perfectly white, his skin tone was smooth and fair, and he had well-shaped eyebrows that gave him a slightly mischievous look. He was dressed casually in a black round-neck t-shirt and joggers. His cologne filled the air with a woody, musky scent.

"Joy forgot her file I came to drop it off."

I took the bag from him. Our fingers brushed, and I froze a little.

"Thank you," I said softly.

"You're welcome. You're new here, right?"

"Yes. First day of lectures today."

"Nice. I'm a final year student, mechanical engineering. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

He smiled again and turned to leave.

"Wait, would you like some juice?" I blurted out.

He turned around slowly and nodded. "Sure."

We sat and talked for a while. He was easy to talk to. I found myself laughing at his jokes and even talking about things I rarely told people. He was mature, polite, and carried himself with a quiet confidence.

He didn't stay long. After his drink, he stood up. "It was nice meeting you, Vanessa. I'll see you around."

"Same here," I replied, watching him leave.

After he left, I sat in silence for a while. My heart was beating faster than usual. I didn't know what it was, but Fred had a presence that lingered even after he was gone.

That evening, Joy came back from school looking tired.

"Did anyone come around?" she asked while removing her shoes.

"Yeah, someone. Your brother. He brought your file"

Joy smiled. "Fred? He's always acting like he's my dad. I told him I'd buy something in school, but he insisted."

I nodded and smiled.

"He's nice," I added.

"Yes, he is," she said, removing her earrings. "Too nice sometimes. But he's very protective. He's all I have."

I didn't say anything. I just smiled and went back to folding my clothes.

That night, I dreamt of Fred.

His smile, his voice, the way he said my name.

For the first time since arriving at UNILAG, I felt like something, or someone, special was about to become part of my story.

And I couldn't wait to see what happened next.