“They say she needs strong workers.”
“She pays families good money for girls who will work there.”
Immediately, greedy parents became alert, because the woman was offering five hundred thousand naira for each girl.
Five hundred thousand naira.
In that village, that kind of money was like treasure falling from heaven.
Before evening, many families were already pushing their daughters forward.
Papa Mecca stood quietly at the edge of the crowd. Then slowly, he turned his eyes toward Zara, the way a trader looks at a goat he wants to sell.
He called his daughters into the house.
Ada and Ngozi entered.
Papa Mecca leaned on the table and spoke.
“That woman is paying five hundred thousand naira for workers.”
The sisters’ eyes widened.
“Five hundred thousand?”
Then Ada smiled slowly.
“Papa, why not sell Zara?”
Ngozi laughed.
“Yes. What are we even using her for here? She only eats food.”
Papa Mecca slapped the table.
“Correct. A useless girl like that can finally bring money.”
When Zara heard this, her heart nearly stopped.
She rushed forward and fell to her knees.
“Papa, please. I beg you. Don’t sell me. I will work harder. I promise. I will do anything.”
But Papa Mecca’s face was cold.
Very cold.
He pushed her aside like an old cloth.
“Shut up. Since you were born, you have brought me nothing but shame.”
Then he walked outside to meet the factory woman.
The woman counted the money slowly. Five hundred thousand naira in fresh notes, neatly placed on the wooden table.
Papa Mecca’s eyes shone like Christmas lights. He grabbed the money quickly.
Ada clapped her hands happily.
“Papa, I want new clothes.”
Ngozi shouted, “And I want gold beads.”
Papa Mecca laughed loudly.
“My beautiful daughters, you will get anything you want.”
Meanwhile, Zara stood there shaking, watching her father sell her life like she was a basket of cassava.
The factory woman grabbed her arm firmly.
“Come.”
Zara looked back one last time, hoping her father might change his mind.
But Papa Mecca had already turned his back and was counting the money again.
That was the moment Zara understood one painful truth.
She had never truly had a family.
As the truck carrying the factory workers drove away from the village, Zara wiped her tears quietly.
She did not know it yet, but the world that rejected her would one day kneel before her.
And if you think Zara’s suffering ended the day her father sold her, then you have not heard anything yet.
The real trouble had only begun.
The journey to Lagos almost destroyed her. The truck carrying the girls was packed like a basket of tomatoes. Dust filled the air. The sun beat down on their heads like a village drum.
Some girls were crying. Some sat quietly in fear.
Zara sat silently, her small body bent forward because of her crooked back, her hands folded in her lap.
Inside her mind, she kept asking one question:
Where exactly are they taking me?
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