Loving him was my first mistake.

For, he taught me love and he taught me sin.

My life was a neatly ordered to-do list, every box checked in time. Great job, impeccable manners, not a hair out of place. Until him. He said he was bored of women who already knew themselves. He saw me as a blank slate, the girl who would fall to his feet at just the request for it, the one who wouldn't question his actions.

Before him...

The to-do list was my religion. Not in a devout, on my knees kind of way, but in the quiet constant hum of obligation that structured my days. Do the laundries: check. Go to the farmer's market: check. The satisfaction of scratching of that list, another line crossed out, was my small enjoyment. It felt good.

During him...

They say Lagos is where dreams are made, but for me, it was where my nightmare began. We collided in the chaos of Lagos, a chaotic dance of yellow buses, hawkers roaming, and the stench of sweat clinging to the air, and I was sure we'd met by accident. Coincidence? I was naive. Fate, I called it.

He was different. Not the stereotypical Yoruba demon, he didn’t just defy the reputation, he rewrote it. He wasn’t one to follow footsteps; he carved his own path, leaving a trail of smoldering hearts in his wake. The kind of man who steps into a room, and suddenly, the air shifts, and the temperature rises. One glance his way was a death sentence as the heat made your skin sing. "Is it me?", you'd think or "is it just hot in here?" And the eyes, those "do you trust me?" eyes. He had this way of looking at you, like he was reading your soul. It wasn’t just attraction, it was a challenge, a dare to see how much of yourself you were willing to reveal. They made my heart flutter, my mind stop. And, like a fool, I did. I let him into my space. Oh chim. He flipped me over like a pancake, both body and soul.

He was a firestorm in human form. I never met a guy who could bring out the fire in my coal. And though the fire would burn me I didn't mind. I burnt for him. His touch was both the spark and the fuel, destroying me, but reshaping me at the same time.

And slowly, our love story began.

I think my biggest mistake was not having loved before him. With him, he taught me love, and he taught me sin. Because whatever he gave, I took. Me, being me- ever obedient- just did as he said. Everything he did to me, I accepted. He became a task on my to-do list. Make him happy: check. Protect him: check. I knew it would all be worth it because he'd look at me with those gorgeous eyes of his. Gratitude? Maybe.

I did the same thing over and over, just listening to him. If he told me to stop wearing boubous and start wearing skin-tight dresses to complement my figure, I did. If he told me to stop talking to a friend because he thought she was nosy, I didn’t argue. If he told me to disown my family, I would. That’s how much of a hold he had on me.

My obedience took shape as my curse, like jollof rice burning slowly at the bottom of the pot- at first, unnoticed, just a faint, bitter scent. By the time you realize, it’s too late; the whole thing is ruined. The me before him, the neatly organized, slightly boring, but essentially me - was slowly cooking away, reduced to ashes. In its place, a version sculpted to please him. A version like a Nollywood actress chasing fame, desperate for approval, even at the cost of herself.

Bit by bit, my world shrunk until only he remained at it's center. And I wanted the same, but he wasn't obedient like I was. He didn't do every single thing I said. He'd just look at me with those gorgeous eyes and tell me how much he loves me.

Then, it became boring. I grew tired of hearing sweet nothings when he wasn't going to do as I said. That's why during an argument, I looked at those gorgeous eyes of his and dug my newly done nails into it. He paid for those nails, he picked the shape, and kissed them when I got back, admiring his own creation.

The scream that tore from his throat was raw, inhuman. He staggered backward, hands flying to his face, blood spilling between his fingers. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold tile, writhing like a wounded animal. I watched him, breathless, heart pounding, a strange kind of thrill buzzing under my skin.

I expected regret to creep in. I waited for the horror of what I'd done to slap me across the face. But it never came. Instead, I felt… powerful. For the first time, I wasn't the one shrinking, molding, obeying. He was. I was never his lover. I was his creation. And I destroyed him.

He gasped my name, reaching for me, but I stepped back. How many times had I reached for him, only to be met with silence? How many times had I twisted myself into shapes he liked, hoping he’d return the favor? He never did. But now? Now, he was at my feet, broken, desperate. Love made me blind, so I took his sight. But I thought, why end there?

“You love me, right?” I whispered, crouching beside him. He whimpered, a sound I once would've found endearing. I cupped his cheek, fingers stained with his blood. “Then prove it.”

His breathing was shallow, the agony in his body evident, but he nodded. Even now, he was still trying to please me. How ironic.

I smiled as I ended it. Finally.

After him...

Oh, but I loved his eyes. Those gorgeous, brown eyes.

I tell this story now from behind iron bars, my wrists raw from the cold bite of handcuffs, the noose sways gently above me, a silent reminder of where this road was always meant to end.

They ask me if I regret it. If I wish I could turn back time. If I’d do it differently.

I smile.

Because if I die here and now, maybe we’ll continue what we had in the afterlife.

They say the brain works a few minutes after death.

I wonder if I’ll see his eyes again in those last moments, if they’ll look at me the way they used to, before love turned to ruin. Before blood stained my hands. Before I became the villain in a story that was never meant to have a happy ending.

Maybe in those minutes, I’ll finally know if he’s waiting for me.

Maybe in those minutes, I’ll find out if he ever truly loved me at all.

Your anonymous bestie

Ree🤍