Page 39 of The Marriage Agreement (Agreement)

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” she mumbles.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. He’s an asshole. I’m sorry I left you alone.”

“I’m fine, and I’m glad you came back in time. I was reaching into my bag for my knife. I would have cut him.” I pull back to read her face with a widened look.

“You carry a knife around?” I ask quizzically.

“I work late hours, and sometimes old Jace won’t start, so I take a cab or walk home if Kai or Jax are unable to drop me off. After New York, I keep a knife close to me.”

I pull out of the hug and take her hand. She follows, and we head to the living room.

Chapter 27

LUKE

Once seated, I ask the question that’s been burning in me for a while now.

“What happened between you and your uncle that brings fear to your face every time I close or lock the door, or when you talk about New York?”

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t stop me to ask any questions until I stop speaking, and you can’t get angry or tell anyone.” That’s a steep ask. I guess I have to hold it together.

“I can promise not to ask questions now, but I can’t promise to control my emotions, but I will try.”

“Please don’t tell Osei. I don’t want him to look at me with pity.” She says in a definite voice.

“I can promise not to tell Osei. If anything, I prefer to know things about you that he doesn’t know,” I reply.

“Okay, and no judgment from you, either.” It’s a command; I notice the skepticism on her face.

“Promise, no judgment,” I confirm to her. “I could never judge you.” I watch her pull away from me and I sit back to listen.

“I was born in Kent, UK. But we moved to Lagos when I was two, and my brother was six. My mom is a chef with a catering business, and my dad is an engineer. Life was good; I had nothing to worry about. I was raised conservative, like I mentioned, but with a little progressiveness. Anyway, during my first year at uni, my dad had an accident, and he was in the hospital for almost a year. The company paid for most of his expenses, but he couldn’t work anymore. By the end of my second year, we’d started to feel the financial strain. My mom had to sell her business to be home with him. My older brother was sent back to the UK, but each time he called, he was barely getting by.” She sighs.

“In comes my uncle, dad’s younger brother, who my dad had paid for his studies here in the U.S.. He told my dad he would take me with him, basically pay forward my dad’s help, and he promised to look after me. My parents and I had no reason not to trust him. He was, after all,family,”she air quotes.

“I moved here with him as my guardian. We lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, New York. My uncle was divorced with a son who lived with his mother but came over on weekends.

Uncle Timi was nice and got me registered at community college. While he tried to get me a legal resident status, I babysat to make money. Everything was moving in the right direction, as planned. About eight months after I arrived, he got injured at work. Some machinery fell on him. Between insurance and his company, a lot of the expenses were covered, but the problem began when he became addicted to Vicodin.” Her voice starts to shake. I know the darkness is about to begin. She’s quiet, and I want to say something so badly, but I remain quiet. Her glassy eyes won’t look at me.

“At first, we were getting by, but the money was dwindling faster than his addiction. He started selling everything he could get his hands on. His son stopped coming over. He would yell and scream at me. I had nowhere to go, and I couldn’t tell my parents what was going on. If anything, my dad was always telling me to make sure my uncle was okay. My brother wasn’t okay in London. I was alone, though I had people around me. My world and everything around me felt dire and lonely. All I could do was face work and school. It was the only thing I could focus on.” She sighs

“My uncle started going to the parents I babysat for to collect my pay before I’d even worked. The parents, as you can imagine, fired me. I found work, but I didn’t make enough to pay the rent and certainly no more school. We were behind on rent, and my uncle continued to spend every dime I made to feed his addiction. No matter how well I hid the money, because I was always getting paid in cash. I arrived home from work one evening to see my uncle with a heavyset guy smoking weed. Something about the leer of the man made me uneasy. I retreated to my room and locked the door.

I knew my uncle was making shady friends since he wasn’t working, but something about that particular guy was off. My instinct was on high alert.” She lets out a weighted exhale and starts to look down.

“Two nights after my first encounter with the guy, he was back, and as soon as I walked in, my uncle announced, ‘We have rent money.’ I will never forget those words.” She sniffs and wipes the tears that are starting to trickle. I watch her lips tremble and her hands tremble.

“I wanted to ask him how we got rent money, but I was raised not to question an adult. My reply was: ‘Should I take it to Mr. Hernandez?’ It really was my excuse to get out because the heavyset man, who I still did not know his name, was inmy peripheral vision, grabbing his crotch and leering at me. My uncle’s reply was: ‘You will go inside and spread your legs for my friend here. He just paid for your virginity.’ Shock overtook me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.”

The tears are now uncontrolled. She’s trembling so much.Fuck!My promise. I move fast and pull her into my arms. She keeps crying. All I do is hold her close to me and not say a word, as much as I want to tell her to stop talking. I also know she needs to get it out.

“I refused to go and raced towards the door to get out of the apartment, but it was locked and blocked. I couldn’t get out. While I talked to my uncle, the guy had blocked the door. My uncle smoked as the guy dragged me, kicking and screaming, to my room. He raped me over and over. He kept telling me, ‘Three thousand is a lot of money, and I should be happy he wants me.’ Each time I tried to race for the door, it was locked. I screamed for my uncle, hoping my scream would save me, but I could smell the weed. I knew my uncle was high, and I had to save myself. Eventually, he tied me to the bed.”

I’m going to commit murder.

“I’d lost track of how many times he stuffed himself inside me, using his smelly hands to prevent me from screaming. The worst was the pain of his slaps, to stop me from fighting back. He then told me that if I told anyone, he was going to kill my uncle by shooting him up with cocaine and make sure I got deported. He knew my parents were struggling, and obviously, my uncle had sold his soul to the devil. I laid there and cried. When he left, I showered over and over to get his stench off me. I pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them in the garbage. I wanted to lock myself in there forever, but something about the way he looked at me when he was leaving made me believe he would be back, and no one would save me. Rather than remain a sitting duck, I went to work, despite how much my body felt like it hadbeen railroaded by a freight train. I also knew that I needed to get out of the house because I wouldn’t eat if I didn’t work. My uncle was stoned out on the sofa when I left. I left him; betrayal and hurt were crying loudly in my bones.” She wipes her tears.

“My only friend, Esther, asked what was wrong with me after I expressed fear of going home. I broke down and told her everything. Esther then told me that I needed to get tested. She gave me Plan B meds and told me that I didn’t want to get pregnant by a monster like that. She also warned me not to report Floppy—that was his name—because his threats weren’t a bluff. So, I kept quiet.” She wipes her tears but rests her head on my chest.

---