It was a cool evening in Ogoja, and I had just finished a long, frustrating day. The city lights flickered as I stood by the roadside, waiting for a taxi to take me to Bekwarra. A green-and-white painted cab slowed down beside me. The driver, a middle-aged man with tribal marks, leaned out.

“Bekwarra" I asked.

"Enter, na one seat remain," he replied.

The back seat had three well-dressed women, chatting casually, and that put me at ease. I settled in beside them. The car smelled of air freshener mixed with something else, something I couldn’t place. As we drove, the driver started a conversation about the state of the country. "This Nigeria don spoil finish," he said, shaking his head. The women hummed in agreement. I wasn’t interested. I just wanted to get home.

The next thing I knew, I woke up with a pounding headache. My body was weak. My clothes were still on, but my wrists and ankles were sore. I tried to move, but I was chained. The air was thick with a strong scent of blood. I turned my head, and my stomach clenched. Human skulls were stacked like firewood. Limbs, torsos, and flesh hung from hooks like in a butcher’s shop.

My breath came in shallow gasps.

A man in a dirty apron walked past, carrying a severed arm as if it were a piece of goat meat. In the dim flickering light, I saw buyers. They pointed at different body parts, negotiating prices. I was in an abattoir for humans. I panicked, My mind screamed, but my mouth couldn’t. The air felt so thick, and suffocating. I wasn’t alone. Beside me, others were chained some unconscious, some awake but too weak to fight.

Then, I saw her.

One of the women from the taxi.

She stood freely, unchained, whispering something to a guard before walking toward me.

"You’re awake," she said.

Her tone was casual, as if we were discussing the weather.

"You... you were in the taxi…" My voice cracked.

She smirked. “Of course. We needed a full car.”

I wanted to scream, to curse, to cry but what was the point?

Commotion broke out when a man in a brown jallabiya stormed in, raising his voice. “Where is my order? I don’t have time.”

The butcher quickly brought the tray. The man browsed through the severed head, poked at the limbs, then suddenly frowned.

"This is not fresh enough," he shouted. “I need someone alive.”

My heart skipped a beat.

"Bring that one," the man pointed at me.

The butcher grabbed me by my arm, his grip so strong. My body was weak, my limbs barely responding. The man in brown jallabiya looked at me, his eyes cold while licking the sides of his lip with a smirk on his face. “This one is fresh. How much?”

"Alive, 7 million," the butcher said, tightening his grip. “Dead, we process it and give you parts.”

"Alive," the man said without a second thought.

I could literally feel my heart pounding in my chest. My breath came in ragged gulps. So this was it. My body was about to be sold like a piece of goat meat. The woman from the taxi smirked, leaning against the bloodstained wall. I clenched my fists. I didn't want to die like this.

Suddenly, the lights flickered. The generator sputtered. A moment of darkness then gunshots.

The entire room erupted in chaos.