The night the accident happened, you were in the car squeezed in between your two big sisters who had been watching funny videos on their iPhones and were chewing gum very loudly. You had been slightly irritated because your dad refused to stop for ice cream and your sisters called you a spoilt brat. You had been irritated because Lara's arm kept hitting your face and she did not say sorry just because she was the first born. You had been irritated because your dad wouldn't let you sit at the front even when you had called shotgun.

Perhaps the irritation that you felt was a sign that something bad would happen, you would think a few years later. 

You were going to the airport that night so that the family could begin a new life in America. Your dad had already sold the house because you all would be staying at America for a long time, you had heard from Lara. You eavesdropped on all their conversations. They did not include you because according to them, you had been the one to murder your mother. 

"If you had not been born, mother would not have died," Imade always said when you both got into a fight.

The car had entered a pothole so that Lara hit your face again. You had accidentally spilled the chilled Pepsi on Imade and she was not having it. She had pushed your face away and slapped your head angrily.

You remembered bawling so loudly that your dad had to remove his hand from the steering wheel so as to reach to the backseat, fondle your cheeks and tell you sorry. He had not seen the trailer coming at him but you had and you had screamed but it was too late.

                                               ~°~°~°~

You remembered that you wanted to tear your wounds out.

The hot pain that filled up your insides made your eyes water but the tears would not fall. You heard the nurses say that it was not fair for a ten year old to go through that type of pain and you agreed with them. You kept screaming and screaming and you called death to come and take you because if it did take you, you would be with God. But as the days went on, you had feared death and you had prayed to God because your dad had always told you to do so at bad times. Your heart conscripted with sadness as you thought of him.

You knew that you would never see your family again when you were released from the hospital. You also knew that you would have to suffer because you had no other person in the entire world. Your mother's relatives, you did not know, and your father's were jealous of him or so you had heard and you also had no way to contact them. You were all alone.

You did not know the way back home so you wandered around the streets of Lagos. Even if you went home, who would take care of you? Lara would not be there to cook, Imade would not be able to shout at you any longer and you wouldn't be able to see your dad smile ever again. Besides, you remembered, your dad already sold the house. You were ashamed when you realized that you missed your dad more than the rest. You cried mostly because he would never hug you or buy you ice cream and toffees.  You cried because you wanted him back but nothing could bring him back to you.

When you started begging, you felt disgraced so you stayed in one place and muttered sweet nothings to yourself. People looked at you strangely as if they thought you were mad but others reached into their purses to give you some money. You made only five hundred naira that day.

The second day, you were determined to make more so you ran after people and prayed for them and told them that you had not eaten for some days. Some shrugged you off and cursed you, while some others smiled and squeezed dirty naira notes into your hands.  These people even went as far as to ask you were your parents were. You told them that they were dead and you found yourself despising the pity that would cloud their eyes immediately you uttered those words so you stopped telling people but this made business bad for you because they just assumed you had run away from home.

After a while, you made enough money for you to start hawking sachet water. Your business progressed but you still weren't fulfilled because you had no roof over your head and no secondary school education. You were jealous when you saw other children in the backseats of their parents' big Jeeps and you almost got angry when they shouted and called you, "Pure water! Pure water!" You endured but you knew in your heart that you wanted more. You did not want to be the girl people knew as 'pure water girl.' You just wanted more. You felt that you deserved it.

Perhaps that was why you did not ask a lot of questions when Solomon approached you. You had been taking a break from walking around the road but passerbys still bought from you as they walked past. Solomon had been wearing a yellow shirt that made you think of vomit. His car though, a Bentley of some sorts, caught your attention. He asked you for one sachet water and gave you one thousand naira.

"Na joke be this?" You asked angrily. "I no get change o!"

He smiled a slanted smile and said, "You can keep it."

He walked into his car and drove off before you could think of something to say. You cried because no one had ever been that nice to you since your father died. You could have packed up early but you thought about the extra money and stayed, thinking about the nice stranger.

He came back a week later, wearing a hoodie that was bigger than him and baggy jeans. You were sitting down with your legs stretched in front of you and you smiled when you saw him. He was fair and his face was covered with big pimples that had angry red bumps at the end, but you did not care. He was your knight in shining armor.

"Hey," He said.

"Good afternoon," You answered back.

"Can I have one pure water?" You knew that he was Igbo from his accent and as you handed him the water you thought that he looked like an angel, with his almost white skin and all.

He brought out one thousand naira again and you shook your head viciously as he stretched it out to you.

"I can't accept it o! Give me my ten naira abeg."

He did not get offended, instead he said, "Consider this a gift from me...." He paused and said, "Sorry, I did not catch your name?"

You wondered how it was possible to throw words and you said softly, "Eniola."

The routine went on for about a month. He would come there almost everyday to buy one sachet water and he would give you one thousand naira. One day, when you got quite overwhelmed by his kindness, you broke down at his feet and you could tell that he was at a loss.

"Are you okay?" He asked when you were done and you looked at him and wondered what you had done to deserve him.

"Why you dey nice to me like this?" You asked slowly, forcing the words out.

He shrugged and said, "I don't know but all I know is that I could help you even more."

"How?"

"I could send you to America."

The world stopped for you then. America? The sacred city that even your dad had talked about with such excitement. The city were you had been on your way to before the accident? America? You turned all your attention to Solomon and asked again, "How?"

"We can't discuss it here," He said rather ominously. "You have to trust me and close this your business. Just follow me."

You should have been wary then. How could you follow this stranger that was speaking in monosyllables? You did not know anything about Solomon. He was a lot older than you but that was as far as you would get. But you were enticed, by his big car and kind ways.

So you did not ask questions. You packed your cold sachet water and threw them in the gutter and that action, when you looked back at it, was a little bit unnecessary but getting into Solomon's car had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

                                          ~°~°~°~

You will have to cross many deserts to get to America, Solomon said. You should have been scared by the threat lurking deep in his words but you were sixteen and you were tired of hawking sachet water up and down the streets of Lagos. You told him that you would do everything it took and he seemed satisfied with that answer. He told you that he had been joking, that he had just been testing you.

Solomon's house was what people would describe as awkward. It was closed off from the rest of the word and it sat atop a hill sloppily that for the few weeks you were there, you feared that it would just fall because of some heavy wind. You placed heavy loads down on it very slowly and you wiped the surfaces clean with such care that even Solomon thought it was unnecessary.

It was very big and you had been enamored with it. You had giggled and giggled and touched everything that you saw. At a point, you were scared that Solomon would take advantage of you but he did not seem to have time for you. He asked you a lot of questions though.

"What is your full name?" Solomon asked. It was a sunny afternoon and you were in the compound sipping lacasera.

"Eniola Olakunle." The lacasera was making top of your mouth heavy, making you drawl your words out slowly.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen. You nko?"

"Sadly, too old for you," He winked and you cringed in disgust.

It was even weirder than the condemning questions that the American Embassy people had asked you but you did not mind. Perhaps he was asking you these questions because he just wanted to know you more. You could not even complain. He had gotten you your passport, taken you to the embassy and given you clothes and shelter. He had gotten your visiting visa which you would "renew" when you got to America. Solomon was your saviour.

He did not ask any more suspicious questions and the next day, he bought you a luggage filled with the latest dresses so that you could take them to America. You wept again, shouting and saying that you were the luckiest person alive. If only you knew.

You will study at the University of America, he told you.

University of America? You asked.

Yes! He snapped.

But I'm not even done with secondary school, You countered.

"Leave it to me." And you did.

You met Big Madam the next day. You asked him who she was and he told you that she was your driver. As you entered the car, you thought that she looked too proud for a driver. And besides, why was Solomon prostrating to a driver? You ignored all these warning signs though and slept off throughout the drive.

You were a bit surprised that Big Madam would be following you into the plane and you turned to her and asked, "Are you going with me ni? Are you not the driver ni?"

She raised an eyebrow at you and said, "I don't know what lies Solomon fed you but I am your Madam so you better face your front before I slap you."

Your mind was reeling, even when you landed in America. The urge to cry still did not ease when you sniffed that American air deeply into your throat, when that sun that you envied so much glard into your face. You had to carry Big Madam's bag and yours so you felt faint and funny. 

From frying pan to fire.

                                        ~°~°~°~

Anytime Big Madam was not beating you, she was making noise about one thing or another. You felt that you should be grateful though, because you had a roof over your head and you were no longer a beggar. You felt that you should be grateful because you would no longer need to look over your shoulder for ritualists or rapists. You were grateful for a lot of things. You had to be.

You actually pitied Big Madam because she seemed bitter and lonely and she just took out that frustration on you. Her white husband was seldom home and she had two children that you absolutely hated.

James and John had caramel coloured skin and acted like the spoilt eight and nine year olds that they were. You wondered if that was the way you acted toward Imade and Lara.

James was a bit better than John but that did not make him more desirable to deal with. James cried for milk and all sorts of stupid things. John, on the other hand, scared you to bits. He stared at you without breaking a sweat and shook his head when you were doing something most times and you found yourself working hard to please the little bastard.

Like the time that they had both flipped when you called them half-castes, and when James had run crying to his mother, John just sat still and stared at you until you mumbled a quick "sorry."

They also loved to prank you and that was the bit you found frustrating the most. You would call John, James would answer and vice versa. They painted your face while you slept and poured sand in your cereal, always giggling as they said sorry, in that cute way that they knew would get them off the hook.

You also thought their names were a bit too typical for boys who were not twins but were too close to be told apart.

But you had learned to say anything, you learned to never voice out your opinion. You were a mere maid. A common nobody. So you cooked for the whole family and tolerated Big Madam's useless temper.
You learned to prepare the boys for their nursery and clean the house everyday. You learned to run from Big Madam's husband's leering eyes and you learned to lock your room after he tried to come in there one night.

You learned to laugh when Big Madam made a not so funny joke and you learned to stay away from her when she got into one of her moods. You learned to not shout at the boys when they did something silly, but instead to pat them on their heads and smile. You learned a lot of things because you had no choice.

You thought of your father and big sisters and wondered if they were enjoying in heaven or burning in hell. You thought of how life may have turned out for you if the accident had never happened. You thought that you were to blame for everything because if you tolerated Imade's beating and kept shut maybe you all would have arrived safely in America and lived fairy tale lives. You thought of your mother that you had never met and cried because if she had not died, maybe things would have been different, maybe you all would not have needed to travel to America anyways.

You thought of Solomon once in a while and if he had helped you or ruined you, but everyday, you thought more of his house on a hill and how it made reference to your life.

Lopsided and about to fall.