I got to the Napoli Central Train station with the last train and took a cab to Castel Volturno. Based on the little money i had left in the entire Europe, i was supposed to take the cheap public bus to Castel but someone was out there spending my money in France, while i almost found it very difficult to pay for a cab.
The world was so balanced that sometimes, we receive our judgments here on earth. Only that not everybody thinks that way.
Few days ago, my life was almost perfect. An apartment that solely belonged to me, two beautiful teenage girls who could have hit the streets to start making money for me in no time, cash amount of over 50,000 Euros and happiness.
But as i unlocked my door in Castel Volturno, the money was gone, and so was the two beautiful girls.
One of the girls went to Zuby while the other one went to the Italian Police.
If i had known, i would have cut my loss when Zuby disappeared, that way, i would have still had Fatimah. But out of anger, impulse and encouragement from an evil woman, i jumped into pursuing a guy who apparently knew what he was doing. He planned it before making the move. He even went ahead to allow me buy a flight ticket to Amsterdam when he knew he wasn’t going to make use of it; what wickedness.
But when i sat down to think about everything, i discovered that it was all vanity. Vanity upon Vanity as the Ecclesiastes called it.
All those struggles were for nothing. What was the need of struggling to gather huge wealth when it was clear you would leave them behind?
I was a woman, an African woman. I would have prioritized something else. I would have fought harder to go to school, maybe i would have succeeded, despite the hill called Jamb. I would have walked away long ago, i had the opportunity; i guess it was because i got lucky financially and started advising myself at a very young age.
Zuby was gone. I had no hope of finding him again, unless he wanted. But at the back of my head, i knew that we will meet again someday. He would call me, i was sure, he seemed not to forget anything; he would call and when he does, i would follow that call to him. He damaged my life, he must return it to the way it was or he would have to start taking care of me. After all it seemed we were destined to be together sometime in our lives. It was clear that i liked him because i simply never gave any man the kind of freedom i gave him over my life but just the proverb says “It is he who knows someone that can kill him.”
When i summoned enough courage and called Bola in Amsterdam, he said simply said there was no business for me. However, he promised to call me whenever something came up.
It was clear to me that i was about to start suffering in Italy. Some kinds of business were out of my reach while the ones within my reach were too low for the level i attained in the immediate past.
The first thing to do was to find a girl and put him in one of the rooms in my apartment. We would then Divide the house rent into two and pay each month. That way, will still keep my apartment while having a companion to lean on in the event that i feel like telling some one my story.
Few days after i returned from San Remo, I rented out one room to Precious.
Precious was from Paris. She had worked in Paris before coming down to Italy. According to her, she just finished paying for her freedom in Paris. She was free from her Madam but wanted a new environment where she would start work and become a new girl.
When she arrived from Paris a few weeks before, every Edo girl in town knew that she was not new in Europe. She was just an old girl looking for a new challenge.
That was how i started living with Precious.
Each night when she returned and asked why i didn’t go out, i would tell her some parts of my stories.
I would tell her how rich i was and how i crumbled like a park of card through the attack by one Zuby whom i met in Lekki Beach Lagos Nigeria.
Precious would console and encourage me to stand up and fight again; she would tell me nobody would fight for me uf i didn’t make another move to sustain myself.
Precious was right, it was either i stood up and fight for survival or i die sitting and crying in one place.
One afternoon, news filtered in from Paris. Someone had called Precious and told her that a man named Solomon stole a girl named Esther from Paris and ran away. The rumour also said that the same Solomon had previously stolen a girl named Naomi from the same Madam. A massive hunt was under way in Paris but so far, no one was able to capture the thief.
The entire pattern fitted Zuby. As a matter of fact, i knew it was him. I was present in San Remo when a Police man called him Solomon, it was his name. It was him who stole the Either girl from Paris. The entire picture was becoming super clear.
There was a crusade against teenage prostitutes in Europe and the leader was my Zuby. It was being planned and executed by my own Zuby; the same man who stole my own girl and money.
He was on a campaign to achieve what was far bigger than he was. He might have been morally right on what he was doing but unfortunately, i needed to see him and stop him before hey kill him. The Madams were going to organise themselves and capture him; they will torture him until he die.
There were news of people who attempted to run away with young prostitutes and ended up being found dead in one apartment or one bush. It happened in Spain, in Napoli, in Paris there and in Milan and Rome. It was one of the best news the Madams loved to tell their Slaves; it was their favourite bed time story. They scared young men away with news just not to attempt to run away with their girls both for Love and other reasons. The slave girls were simply prohibited from loving or following any man until they finished paying their debts.
They were going to kill Zuby in France but that was only if they were able to capture him; i doubted they will get him.