How did it get to this?

How did I end up being the prey in this cycle? I'd always been smart and could sense things way before it happened but even I couldn't have seen this coming.

They fed us with lies, and pushed the right buttons that we couldn't see the signs. I'd heard stories before, stories that I'd refused to pay attention to because of how horrifying they sounded. I couldn't even tell another person if I wanted to, then how did I let it come this far?

How did I not see the tell tale signs from the beginning? Why was I so blinded?

I shouldn't have agreed to it, I shouldn't have agreed to go along with it. But I was hopeful, hopeful for my family. Hopeful that I'd get a solution... I was wrong.

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I slowly opened my eyes to the sun's ray creeping through the hole in our tent and onto my closed eyelids. The sound of the rumble around the tent got my senses on alert as it grew louder by the second. I turn to my side to see my mum tossing things aside in her search for something.

I turned my attention to the space where my brother laid last night which was now empty and there was still no signs of my father. My mother mumbled as she dug through the pile of clothes. After watching her for a few seconds, I decided to ask.

"What are you searching for mummy?"

She jerked when she heard my voice. I didn't realize that I'd startled her when I asked.

"My God Amanda. You scared me." she had her hand to her chest and turned to look at me. "I'm looking for our big bowl. I can't remember where I put it."

"Why?"

"There is a queue outside with people waiting to receive food. I asked your brother to stay in the queue for me, when I go out I'll take his place. You know how it is here, first come first serve."

"Why didn't you wake me? I could've stayed for you. Dozie can be easily bullied into giving up his space." I yawned and stretched as I sat up.

My bones crackled when I stretched due to the constant lying on the hard floor. Even though I had a mat I slept on, it was still hard and couldn't have been compared to a bed.

Every morning I'd hear my bones crack, even after all these years my body was not used to the floor but my mind was. The cracking sound was a constant reminder that I was alive and ready for a new day, however it came.

"I know but you were still sleeping and I didn't want to wake you. Dozie slept earlier last night and he deserved to be woken early. Besides, if he doesn't learn how to stand up for himself here where else can he learn it." she continued her dig. "A-ha! I've found it."

She brought out a big Stainless Steel bowl and scurried off. I walked to the pile that lay on the floor in the aftermath of my mother's search and began folding the clothes.

After twenty minutes, my mother came in with a full bowl of jollof rice and my grinning brother behind her. The aroma of the rice filled our tent and my nostrils and it caused my stomach to let out a loud growl.

My mother and brother laughed at the sound. She set the bowl in the middle of the tent, our regular spot for eating and sent my brother to grab the spoons.

I was already drooling and didn't even realize it until I sat down. My brother hurriedly brought the spoons and was ready to devour the rice faster than anyone else in the room.

His hand was smacked away by my mother before it could reach the bowl. That made him look grumpy and I couldn't help but burst out laughing, he always did have the most ridiculous expressions.

"Let's say a prayer and thank the Lord for giving us this meal." my mother instructed.

We bowed our heads and said a quick prayer. I couldn't lie, I was famished. The boiled groundnut I had last night didn't do justice to the tug of war in my stomach.

I took the first spoonful and my taste buds exploded. It was the first good meal I'd had in over a week and it tasted like I was eating rainbows. The Nigerian jollof was known throughout the continent for it's unique taste and my tongue could attest to that.

I dug in again for the second spoonful but my spoon was caught between my brother's. I tried to move my spoon away but I'd just given him a game to play at. I tried to take a spoonful of rice but instead he'd tipped the spoon over and knocked the rice back in the bowl. I tried taking another but he clinked his spoon against mine like we were in a sword fight but with spoons instead.

"Chukwudozie." I called out his full name, that got him to behave as he hated being called out with "chukwu" instead of  "chi". I smirked when his sheepish grin turned into a pout. He was such a baby, even at fourteen he still behaved as one.

"Both of you behave and let's eat in silence." my mother said when she couldn't stand our stare down anymore.

We all burst out laughing and continued with our food. I heard footsteps approach the tent and kept shut to listen to the sound coming from outside.

"Daddy's back."

My mother turned to me and then turned to the entrance of our tent.

My father walked in with the brightest smile on his face. He looked so happy it was contagious.

"Daddy." my brother hopped up and ran to my dad to embrace him followed by my mother and I next. I didn't know if he came home last night or not as when I slept he was not here and when I woke he wasn't either. I was just glad that he was safe.

"How do you always know that it is your father coming?" my mother asked me when we broke from the embrace.

"I always know when daddy's coming.  The sound of his footstep is imprinted in my mind." I smiled at them proudly.

"That's my girl. Always the smart one." my father pinched my cheek lightly and I chuckled.

"Hey, I'm smart too." Dozie chimed in and I responded with an eye roll.

"Yes you are my boy. I have a surprise guest everyone."

We all looked at each other and then at my dad whose only response was to beam with glee. He excused himself and went outside the tent, we waited for him to return with the surprise guest that he's found.

We've never had anyone visit us before, not even our family members visited us because some of them were afraid to step foot in a refugee camp. You know it's when things go bad you start to realize who truly meant well for you.

My father walked in with a man with a beer belly. Everything about him was wrong. He was a small man with grizzled black hair around his bald crown and a grizzled beard.

Behind his tangle of black beard I could tell his lips were twitching upwards. To describe his appearance would totally miss the point. He was an aristocrat and he didn't give a damn what we thought of the way he looked. He appeared before us in a tailored black suit with a charming red tie. He let off a strange aura, even though he was round the man knew how to carry himself.

I suddenly felt unease when his eyes rested on me. I didn't like the way he looked at me, it was like he was a predator waiting to devour the unsuspecting prey.

"Family, this is my long time friend from my university days, Mr Chekwas. It was by the grace of God that I met him during my scavenging."

"Good afternoon sir." I greeted him, ignoring his lingering glances.

"You never told me you had such a beautiful family Bueze." he spoke to my dad without taking his eyes off me. "It's nice to meet you all."

We had forgotten about our jollof rice that was now cold as we listened to my father talk about his days at the University with Mr Chekwas. It turned out that they were very good friends but separated after their studies as he left the country for Italy.

As fate would have it, he was on his way to visit his niece and her husband when he saw my father doing his regular scavenging in her neighbourhood. He recognized him instantly and that led them talking which led them here.

"I'm so sorry for what happened to you Bueze and I wish I can help you and your family." the man spoke, even his voice sent chills down my spine.

"I can't blame God as I know that one day He will remember us."

Everyone fell silent, there were no words that could be said about the pain in the atmosphere.

"What if I told you that there's a way for me to help you." the man said after a minute of silence.

We all looked at him like he had just poisoned our food while we watched. I wasn't sure if he was speaking Latin or English, I wasn't sure if I heard him correctly say he had a way to help us. Whatever it was, we were one hundred percent in for it.

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Nigerian jollof is truly something to try. It is absolutely delicious.

I honestly have no words to say here other than thank you for taking a chance on this story. It's really me trying my hand at something different and feeling things the way I've never felt in order to portray the true feelings of our characters.

Don't forget to vote and/or comment.