Abby-Fear can drive you to do things you never imagined. Looking back, I realise it wasn’t just common sense that led me to open a new bank account and hide most of my money—it was survival instinct. And thank God I listened.Chief had been everything to me: saviour, provider, lover—and now, the man trying to take everything. When he showed up that night, pretending everything was normal, acting like we were still in our ‘us against the world’ fantasy, I played along. I smiled. Ate the tasteless rice he brought. Nodded while he gave me his poetic speech about “ours is ours” and “my family is your family.” Then he dropped the real question: “Where’s your debit card?”
Without flinching, I handed him the old one.
He sighed like a man saved from drowning, kissed my forehead, and promised to send money when I needed it. Just text—don’t call, especially if his wife was around. That’s when it hit me: this was the end of the illusion. I was no longer his hidden treasure—I was an expense. A line item. A liability.
As he pulled off, smiling like he’d won, I walked back into the guest house, paid the bill, packed my bags, and left. No message. No explanation. I vanished.
Thank God I had transferred most of the money out earlier. Because if I hadn’t? I would have been left with nothing—not even my dignity.
CHRIS
After my talk with Adenike, I barely slept. The next morning, it all happened so fast. At 10 a.m. on the dot, three people arrived—one of them a police officer. They uncuffed me, read me my rights, and walked me out to a van with five other men. No one spoke.
We drove through a town, then into the countryside, finally stopping at a fenced-off compound that smelled faintly of the sea. It looked like a warehouse from the outside, but inside it was something else—like a prison pretending to be a hostel.
They called us in one by one. When it was my turn, two people sat across from me. They asked my name. My reason for entering. My story. To everything, I said one word: “Asylum.”
Eventually, a bell rang and someone escorted me out. “You’ll be held here while your application is processed,” he said. “You work here. You live here. You do not leave until it’s finalised.”
Then he showed me to my room. Six bunks. One shower. A shelf full of old toothbrushes and towels. A welcome pack lay unopened: two t-shirts, a jumper, a puff jacket, socks, toiletries. My backpack was gone. Everything I had left behind in the boat was gone.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the grey walls of this strange new life. I was finally here—but where was here?
This wasn’t the Europe I dreamed of. But it was the Europe I fought for. I just didn’t know what would come next…
Hmmm.
Life choices
