THE FIRE WITHIN
Ebimene's muscles burned as she threw another punch at the battered couch she had converted into her makeshift punching bag. Sweat dripped from her forehead, her breath ragged, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. Every blow she landed wasn't just against an invisible enemy—it was against Adesua's taunts, against the man who had dared to touch her, against the world that had conspired to bring her down.
She gritted her teeth. They think I'm weak? They think I'm nothing? Her fist connected again, the dull thud of impact vibrating through her bones. Let them laugh. Let them mock. But one day… one day, they will choke on their own words.
Two years had passed since that night in the alley. Two years since she had vowed, through trembling lips and tear-filled eyes, that she would never be a victim again. The girl who had once been helpless was gone, replaced by someone sharper, harder. Someone who had forged herself in the fire of pain and desperation.
Her stomach growled, a sharp reminder that she hadn't eaten since morning. With a sigh, she grabbed a small purse containing the little money she had left and stepped outside. The streets were alive with the hum of the city, neon lights flickering against the darkened sky. She made her way to a small roadside restaurant, the kind where the air was thick with the aroma of sizzling meat and freshly made stew.
She approached the counter, scanning the menu. A steaming plate of rice and stew caught her attention—simple, filling, and within her budget. The vendor, an elderly woman with kind eyes, smiled at her.
"What will you have, my dear?"
Ebimene hesitated. "Just rice and stew, please. No meat."
The woman glanced at her, noting the worn-out clothes and the tiredness in her eyes. "You need your strength," she said, scooping a piece of meat onto the plate despite Ebimene's order.
Ebimene's throat tightened at the unexpected kindness. "I—thank you."
"Eat well, child," the woman said, handing her the food.
She found a quiet corner and dug in, the warm meal soothing her empty stomach. As she ate, her mind wandered back to the call she had received earlier. Unknown number.
At first, she had ignored it. But when it rang again, she picked up, an uneasy feeling settling in her chest.
"Hello?"
A slow chuckle greeted her. "Ebimene… It's been a while."
Her blood ran cold. She knew that voice.
The man from the alley.
She gripped the phone tightly. "What do you want?"
"I never got what I wanted back then." His voice was smooth, almost amused. "But you've changed, haven't you? I've been watching you."
Her stomach churned. "Leave me alone."
Another chuckle. "You're not that rich, untouchable girl anymore. But don't worry, I like a challenge."
The call ended before she could respond. Her hands trembled as she lowered the phone.
She had known he would come back.
And she would be ready.
---
Later that night, she moved through the dimly lit streets with quiet confidence, her senses heightened. The air was thick with the scent of rain, the ground still slick from an earlier downpour. Every shadow, every movement, she analyzed instinctively, her body attuned to danger.
She knew he would come.
And he did.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him step out of the darkness, his gait lazy, confident. He was taller than she remembered, his broad shoulders blocking the alley's exit. But she was not the same girl he had cornered before.
"Well, well," he drawled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "You didn't run this time."
Ebimene took a slow step forward. "I don't run anymore."
He smirked. "Good."
He lunged.
But she was faster.
Anticipating his move, she sidestepped, her footwork precise. His arm swiped through the empty space where she had been just moments before. He barely had time to react before she struck—a sharp elbow to his ribs, a quick kick to his shin.
He stumbled, cursing. "You little—"
She didn't let him finish. She spun, her leg whipping through the air in a clean arc. Her foot connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.
He groaned, dazed. "What the hell—?"
Ebimene crouched beside him, gripping his collar and yanking him up so their faces were inches apart. "Listen carefully," she said, her voice low and deadly. "The next time you even think about coming near me, I will make sure you regret it. Permanently."
His dazed expression shifted into one of pure fear. She let him go, watching as he scrambled to his feet and stumbled away without another word.
She stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of his retreating footsteps, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Then, slowly, she exhaled.
She had won.
No. She had taken control.
And for the first time in years, she felt truly powerful.
---
As she walked home, her body still thrumming with energy, she allowed herself a small smile.
This was just the beginning.