HI EVERYONE! 

Before you go on, I am curious sha. Tell me what you guys feel when you see an update on this book. Like the very first thing that you feel. I don't know why I am curious, lmaooo!

Moving on, the songs for this chapter are:

*Wicked games by The Weeknd

*Bambi by Baekhyun

*Amnesia by KAI (Feel free to check out Peaches too!)

*Ariana Grande (feat Sonny Zero) by Kodi

Why? Because I listened to those songs as I wrote this chapter and it was a surreal experience. Those songs have such lovely melody, and my heart goes to them! Especially, Bambi! (Amnesia made me so happy too!)

Alright, let's get into it!

~DABI~

Wicked games by The Weeknd was on repeat; all I did was sit on the cold, hard ground with my knees to my chest and my hands, hugging my legs, waiting.

Days had rolled by, and with each passing one, it was like my brain was going more into an overdrive. Occasionally, I did this. I found my quiet place, locked myself in it, and drowned in music that I should be dancing to, instead of absorbing.

But absorbing it didn't feel so bad. Naturally, subconsciously even, my love for dancing made me to fall in love with music. So, I liked to hear music, and quietly just tap my hands to the beat or move my feet subtly to the rhythm. Sometimes, I lost myself in the words of the song and choreographed a whole performance in my head, zoning out for that time being.

 I liked to feel the bass of songs; they sent chills down my spine, and caused my body to move with the beat drop in its own accord. Reflexively, my body would move in flow, and my shoulders would circle rhythmically to the beat, my head bobbing to its tempo. It came naturally, really. Music did that to me, and The Weeknd, right now, was really passing my vibe check.

I guess, with everything that had happened so far, this was some sort of therapy for me.

The Christmas party was tomorrow.

And, well, the Sisters were understanding when I told them that I wasn't coming with them for yet another committee meeting. 

Apparently, the Last minute preparations were tight. Having the big night that all the classmates could not stop going on about everywhere was tomorrow, things were hot. Thankfully, I was excluded when I excused myself. It wasn't like I had any use there, anyway.

"It's the choice of venue for me though."

The voice was like a zap of electricity down my spine and I felt my heart skip three dangerous, very dangerous beats.

My eyes shot up, immediately.

With eyes, dead and direct, showing contrary to the chaos heartbeat inside my chest, I stared at the mini god who trod his way into the big empty Hall that was my Dance Class. 

Hands wrapped around my legs and my chin rested on my knees as I looked at him, eyes following his every movement for a few seconds, as I took in the magnitude of his presence, and involuntarily, the biggest smile spread across my face.

Marc surprised me by showing up faster than I expected. He had made it a routine to check up on me everyday, and when I told him I was coming to Dance Class to just sit on the floor and stare at nothing, he asked if I needed company.

I said no, because, I genuinely wanted to be alone. Of course, I told him I wouldn't mind if he was the company. That seemed to excite him, I guess. He told me that he was at the committee meeting, but was eager to come so that he could sit on the ground with me and watch the air.

Are we mad? Maybe. But, such is Love.

I actually thought he was joking. I mean, there was no way that he would come all the way from Gomery where the meeting was, just to sit on the ground with me and watch nothing, right?

E shock me sha. 

He said he would be here in five minutes. Five minutes. Note this, it was 4:30 pm when Marc made that promise.

The time on my wristwatch said 4:33 pm.

And, Clyde was standing in front of me.

"Whatever prompted you to want to sit here in this dark place and binge The Weeknd, I don't know, babe. All I know is that I am down," Marc rolled up the sleeves of his white sweater and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he spoke, making it clear to me that he meant business.

I giggled, and my little laugh seemed to make his eyes twinkle, his lips in a smile that flashed back at me. He looked so happy. Too happy. Like a little child on their way to the amusement park. Did something happen? Or was he just happy to see me?

"I needed a quiet place," I told him, "One with less people and more music."

He chortled at that. "How could I forget I was dating an introvert?" 

Another laugh escaped my breath and I couldn't believe how easy it was for this guy to make me smile. Just like that. Without even much of an effort.

Him, being here was enough for me. Everything about him and his scent sent me into a temporary escape room, like a daily dose of heaven. From his charming smile to his big brown eyes that always glowed with love and admiration every time he saw me, to his lovely scent like a drop of cedar into floral, amber, and vanilla. It was a strong cologne scent that followed him everywhere he went, and I had affiliated it to much to him that I had grown to become so accustomed to loving every bit of it. Every bit of him.

Today, he didn't have on his signature, a hoodie. New, I thought, but I couldn't help, but smile at the sight of him. Marc looked even twice as good every time I saw him again, and whatever jazz he was doing to keep that up in my eyes, I loved it.

White was probably his favourite colour, because he came cloud just like an angel once again. It was my favourite form of seeing him and I smiled hard as I looked him thorough from the very clean sparkly white oversized knit woollen sweater he wore, long to his knees, and with a droopy turtle neck and long, baggy sleeves that covered most of his fingers, to the also, blinding white wide-leg trousers that had some bit of space too. The only grey on him, being, the beanie on his head and the new looking shoes that covered his feet. 

From the beanie, I could see some strands of those twists that he still hadn't gotten rid of, the one I had done for him, sprawling out by the sides, giving a kind of overwhelming beauty to his already perfect face. One that was almost incomprehensible.

Marc looked like a model. He had the face, he had the fashion. He looked like someone that should have been famous or something, and sometimes, I wondered what a huge flex it was to have him.

Ironic though, it seemed, how this was the second time he showed up time in White, and me, in black. A black baggy tee and some black jeans was all I had on, and the glaring contrast brought questions to my head. 

Personally, I hadn't even put in much effort to look good, considering that I thought I was going to be here all alone. I wore the first thing I saw. My lips were chapped and dry, thanks to the weather, and sucking on it only made matters worse.

To make matters worse, I had loosened my hair the day before and since combing it was always a hassle, I preferred to roughly and hastily twist it out, little by little. However, my hair was already naturally tangled, so it only thickened it into stronger dreads. It didn't look too bad. The only problem was that it was probably going to stay that way on my head for the next seventeen years.

Needless to say, I guess it was safe to say I looked as basic as a plain white paper.

Or, maybe a little less.

Shockingly, here was Marcus Acha, looking at me like I was a diamond on a rock.

"So, tell me," His smile was warming as he made his way to sit with me on the ground, eyes following me as he adjusted himself on the ground, "Why did you really come here?"

Out of the point, but he was sitting on the ground so easily, without thinking twice about the fact that he was wearing white. Luckily, Yukerya made sure that this place was always clean, irrespective of the fact that outside was not as appealing, but Marc didn't know that. He was simply just lucky. 

"Aurora?" He called me, nudged me when I didn't talk and I playfully pushed his arm of me, giggling softly.

"I already told you, I just needed some space," I told him.

"Did you go online again?" He asked me.

I originally planned not to, but it was difficult to be aware that hundreds of thousands of people on the internet are talking about you and not want to see they were saying. So, I opened my Instagram account one night, and I wished I didn't even dare. 

Since then, it had become a second nature. Opening the app to see if there was something new and I was never disappointed. The more I checked, the worse I saw. The sheer insensitivity: unnecessary mean comments, jokes, trends - It was appalling how the suffering of me and my family, the years of abuse and torture we went through, was something that people saw as an opportunity to 'blow' or 'seek attention. 

The Internet was not a good place to talk about your grievances. 

Not at all. 

"It sucks, I know," Marc said to me, his sympathy warming, "But, Aurora, remember that as much as there are assholes on the Internet, it is still an aggressively effective way to help a lot of movements. I mean, we can't shut exactly shut down the haters, but as much as there are hundreds of thousands being insensitive, there is even twice that number, fighting on your behalf."

Well...

"Have you even seen the trending Hashtags on Twitter?" He asked me.

"Somehow," I responded.

He chuckled. "Somehow?" 

"I appreciate it that there are still some people who are looking out for me, Marc," I said, "It's just difficult, sometimes, to mute the bad things people say, even when there are others who say some good things too. No matter how much I see people supporting and offering help, what still sticks at the back of my head is how someone else accused me of being an 'overrated attention seeker!"

Marc listened to me rant. He didn't argue. He just listened. So, I continued.

"Some girl on Twitter said that she is sick of hearing my name everywhere," I told Marc, "I saw that comment under one of the posts of one of my fan pages. She wrote a whole paragraph of how much I apparently disgust her. How she feels like I am too overrated, and constantly looking for how to put myself in the spotlight by 'staging things'. She says Wonder Coast was staged, and so was the Greenland Park Celebrity Party where we danced and kissed. She also thinks I made up the news about my family, posted it with an anonymous account just to 'seek attention' once more."

Thinking about all the nonsense that I had been seeing these past few days about me online was so sickening. I literally felt sick to my stomach, telling him all about it.

"A good number of people liked her comment though," I continued, "All of them had something to say in agreement with her. I couldn't even read everything they said. It was so hard.-" I sighed when I felt my heart prick a little, stopped talking all the same, and Marc, sympathetically, held my hand. "For the life of me, I can't understand why people who have never even met me before hate me so much."

I didn't understand why people trolled people on the Internet for no reason. With everything that I had to deal with already, the last thing I wanted I needed was these mean comments. People really didn't know what a person was going through. They just threw knives at everyone online at will. And for no justifiable reason. 

"Naija Twitter is trying to cancel everything as a lie. Instagram is throwing shade at my Mum for staying with my Dad for some long, even when she was aware he was an unfaithful man and treated her the way she did. Buzzloo is saying that instead of me to have been looking for how to report him and free my Mum, I am dancing with and kissing a boy. Tiktok thinks it's a joke; people are joining in on trends that are in one way or the other, mocking my situation, and getting massive engagements from it. Marc, I am just tired, abeg." 

"There are always going to be haters, its inevitable," He told me softly, "But, you see, on the bright side—"

"There is no bright side," I cut him, pessimistically.

"You sure?" He asked in a questionable tone, I was about certain it was a rhetorical question though, "Because, the same social Media that has people hating ignorantly on you is the same social media where an army of Dabi fans are trying to fight for your justice."

I was about to protest, but he spoke over me, calmly, debunking what I had to argue with before it even came out of my mouth.

"The hate is too much in your face for you to pay much attention to anything else, I understand that," He told me assuredly, "But, babe, there is no gain in completely dwelling on the bad side when there is something to be consoled about."

I pondered quietly on his words, chin on my knees. He sat there, right next to me, right hand having its elbow rested on his knee, and the other hand, holding mine, on the thigh of his other leg that laid on the ground. Quietly, as I thought about what he said, I stared at his hands wrapped around mine and said nothing more. Although I wasn't looking at him, I could still feel his eyes all over me as he talked.

"Look at this," He said to me, whipped out his Samsung phone in no time, and was tapping rapid fire on the screen, nearly scaring me with the speed his fingers went even with one hand, "See."

The entire thing was in my face as he elaborated it, like I could not see and understand that it was the home page of his twitter account that he was showing me.

"You see the trending Hashtags?" He hit on those again, "Or, should I read it out loud for you?"

I giggled, something between fluster and speechlessness overwhelmed me. "You really don't have to, Marc.—"

"Number five says Hashtag KDNOOYM," He showed me as he told, "That is acronym for Keep Dabi's name out of your mouth." 

"Why does the acronym have to be so long though?" I chuckled as I asked.

"Babe, you'd be surprised how many people can recite the entire thing in one breath, all because of you," He told me, scrolled upwards to show me more, "And see this one, trending at Number four..."

He made sure that I was watching every single thing as he showed it thus.

"Hashtag Justice for Mama Dabi," He read it out for me, "And, half the blogs in the country are carrying this particular tag around. It's all over the net, like a plague."

"But, many people are also heavily looking for reasons to criticize that tag and put the blame on my Mum," I argued still. 

"Maybe that's why Hashtag Fuck Dabi Haters made it up to top three, because these people ain't playing," He countered still, scrolling further for me to see and I chucked.

"There are many people supporting that Hashtag," I said in realization, smiling weakly in little comfort as I saw the thousands of likes associated with that particular one. Maybe Marc was right, after all.

"Unfortunately, your father's name trends at Number Two," He told me, "But, if it makes you feel better, I bet that now the public eye is on him, whether for or against, it will be good leverage to find where he ran off to. That man can't hide forever."

I wanted him to hide forever. Seriously. I didn't want to ever see that man again. Not even on my dying bed.

"The point is, Aurora," Marc continued what he was saying, "You have a multitude out there, fighting for you. You have me..."

It was like a heavy cloak of darkness was lifted off me, and that was how much I was getting him. 

"So, why channel all your energy into thinking about what will wear you down when you can find joy in the bright side?" He asked me, a soft, playful and comforting nudge from him punctuated his words. 

I hated that he was right.

But, I loved that he made me smile.

"What trends at Number One?" I asked him, nonetheless.

He scrolled up for me to see as he answered, "Beanie Girl Family."

Well, I should have expected that would be it. Considering that what brought this entire chaos on the Internet was that unknown blog from nowhere that had details on my family that nobody else should have, it was only sensible that it was the number one tag.

That blog was still circulating everywhere.

And whoever it was who did this to me was somewhere, cackling evilly at the controversial reactions of the Masses. Laughing at all the mean and horrible things people said, concerning.

I had my guess. I was about a ninety percent sure who did this to me. And trying to crack what on earth I must have done to warrant such hatred, and sneaky manipulation from her always beat my imagination. Imagine hating someone you didn't even know.

But, I couldn't even talk. As usual, everyone would think that I was delusional.

Although, I genuinely wanted to know.

"What do you think?" I asked Marc, "Who do you think is this 'anonymous blog' that had that much information about me and my family and posted it?"

"Hm?" Pupils dilated at my question, big brown eyes widening in the slightest like my question hit him a bit and took him completely off guard.

So, I figured he did not hear what I said.

"Who do you think is the 'anonymous blog' that had that much information about me and my family and posted it?" I repeated my question.

"Well..." He seemed to drawl his answer a bit, like he was carefully looking for how to arrange the words that were coming to his mouth, "We can't ever really know. It could be anyone, Dabi."

"Do you have a suspect?" I pressed on, "A specific person?"

"I don't know, do you?" He asked me back, throwing the question back to me.

Yes. "No," I answered, "I am so blank on what to think, believe me."

My Adams apple that was almost unseen bobbed and I knew that he had swallowed hard.

So, I figured he was probably thirsty.

"I have no suspects too," He told me.

"Oh," I muttered, slightly disappointed.

Clearly, it was going to be a big problem if I blamed this on who I wanted to blame it on. Recalling the problems it caused last time, the last thing I even want to do is call her name before Marcus again.

I looked to Marc, and noticed the sudden change in his behaviour. He was still holding my hand and his thumb was wistfully circling the skin on my wrists, a sad and solemn look in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, worried.

He sighed, smiled weakly and shook his head as though he was trying to assure me that nothing was wrong, but I could see past all that 'caricature'.  

"No, tell me," I urged him, "What's wrong?"

"Babe, I really want you to know who did this to you," He sighed, admitting to me, "I really do."

I do, already. I do. "I will find out eventually," I told him instead.

"Have you talked to your friends about it?" He asked me. 

"They could help out too, I know," I got what he was trying to say, "It's just that we haven't had a detailed conversation about what happened since it happened. I don't know how I am going to bring myself to talk about that part of my life yet. My family issues has always been a very sensitive topic for me. It's not that I don't trust them, I do. I, personally, am just not ready to open those wounds." I looked up to his brown eyes, "Do you understand?"

"I do," He said, his voice had volumes of sincerity, "But, you should talk to them."

I pondered quickly on that bit of advice.

"I know, they are my friends after all, right?" I agreed with him, a soft, genuine smile married my face as I thought about them, "They are my sisters, actually."

Marc smiled too, genuinely happy that I was temporarily happy.

"You never actually told me, in details, why you ran away from home though," He said to me, out of the blue.

I blinked at him, horrified that that was still on his mind. "Huh?"

"But, it's okay," He assured me before I could properly freak out, "I get it now. With everything on the Media, I can see quite the picture. And, I know the last thing you want to do is, well, 'open wounds that aren't ready to be opened'."

There was a silence between us for a bit.

"The atmosphere at home was just too toxic, Marc," I told him.

I knew that he wouldn't need much elaboration on how a toxic home would feel. I still remembered what I witnessed with his dad, how broken he was, how shattered he was. I could still recall how he broke down like a baby. How he cried a river on my shoulder, drenched the fabric of my shirt with his tears that night that he opened up to me about his Dad, that night before we went to the Greenland Park Celebrity party.

I had seen him in all shades, and the most heart melting part was his vulnerability. He understood, without having me go deep into the definition of this 'toxicity'.

"So, I guess I acted without thinking and ran away," I said to him.

It was hard to say in details what had actually transpired, so I put it this way. How could I tell Marc that the reason I ran away was because I was scared my father would kill me for hurting his mistress? How could I tell him that I used a hot pressing iron on a human being's face? 

"If it makes you feel better, sometimes, I feel like running away too," He tried to comfort me, "So, you are not alone. You are never alone. I am with you, babe."

The more he tried to always make me feel better, the more that I wondered if I even deserved him. I love him, but I was so closed off. I love him, but I often got so jealous and do and say the stupidest things. I love him, but sometimes, I refused to accept his love, because its magnitude was too overwhelming for me to comprehend.

Was the fact that I loved him and he loved me too really enough to make us last?

"I just wish that I knew what was going on at the time, so that it would have been easier to keep you in my home," He said to me.

I laughed softly. "Your Dad would have still driven me away, so what's the point?"

"Well," He laughed too, "At least, my Mum would have had an idea of what was happening. Enough to not look so stupid when my dad threw questions at her."

I felt so awful hearing that. I felt bad I didn't give Mama Acha some closure.

"But, she knows now," Marc told me, "She sends her greetings and regards. We found out about the fire because of the buzz all over the net. She couldn't believe how awful your father must have been to want to burn down the house with your Mum and brother in it, just because you ran away from home..."

Eh?

Wait, Dad tried to burn down the house the day I left?

"My mum felt so bad for your Mum, and of course, you and your brother too," He told me, "We were so relieved when we heard that she and your brother were taken away from there, before he could have done some serious damage."

"But, Mum did not sound like she was safe," I said.

He looked at me. "What do you mean?"

"I wanted to tell you," I started, "My mum called me some time last week, the very day that this 'anonymous blog' posted about our family..."

Marc was listening so attentively to me.

"Yeah?" He probed me to continue.

"Well, it started with a message she sent," I told him, "I couldn't understand what the hell she was trying to say because it was all letters mixed in with symbols and roman numerals."

"Are you sure?" He asked me.

"Of course, I am," I answered.

"Can I see?" He further asked.

"Excuse me?" I said with a frown.

"Let me see the message she sent you," He insisted, "It's still in your phone, yeah?"

Something about how he said it offended me, but I wasn't sure why.

"Why?" I asked him, "You don't believe me?" 

"No, no, no," He assured me, "I just want to see it, so I can know what to make out of it."

I stared blankly at him.

"I mean, there has to be some reason your Mum did that. She couldn't have sent you a bunch of 'letters mixed with symbols and roman numerals' for nothing. There was definitely a motive," He said to me, extended his hand for me to give my phone, "So, would you allow me to see for myself and find that out?"

When he put it like that...

"Okay," I quietly muttered, handing him the phone.

Marc took it, swiped it up and since there was no lock to my phone, he already had his access.

"You don't mind me going through your messages, do you?" He asked me, to confirm.

"I have nothing to hide," I said to him, "So, sure, carry on."

That was all the permission he needed, and soon enough, he was scrolling down my bunch of Access debit alerts and Glo data expiration messages, the man in a dear mission to find exactly what he was looking for. 

In a few seconds, he made his stop. His eyes stayed focused on the message of that day that my Mum had sent me, the ones with the Letters mixed in with symbols and Roman numerals.

And, Marcus stared at it for such a long, long time.

"I told you," I said to him, "It makes absolutely no sense."

No matter how much he stared at it, it was not going to change.

"Danger."

He finally spoke, but his eyes fixed still on my iPhone.

"Eh?" 

That was me, to him.

Marc looked at me, and his eyes told it all to me that he finally got it.

"Your mum," He said to me, "She feels endangered."

"Endangered," I repeated, my mind reshuffling events of the night, "That would make sense, because she sounded pretty scared when she asked me to 'find her'. What could that mean?"

I asked him like he could have had all the answers to everything.

"Wherever she is right now, she probably doesn't feel safe," He explained to me.

My heart was skipping even beats at a time. I wondered how I was still alive.

"The message," He went back to it, looking over it one more time before he looked back to me, " It looks like something that was typed in a haste. Like her fingers tapped on her keyboard crazily and as quickly as it could."

"Why would she want to do that?" I asked him.

"She probably didn't have enough time to reach out to you," He answered me, "Maybe, because it was too risky to do so, at the time."

Oh.

"But, she probably knew it was her only chance to pass a cause for alarm on her behalf from you," He said, "And, she probably knew her time was limited and she knew she couldn't give you all the information that she wanted to give you with so little time and opportunity, so she thought that the fastest way of communicating to you that something was wrong was to send a barrage of nonsense, something to shake you up with alarm, with the hopes that you would figure out that something was off and push further for her."

All these just broke my heart to hear. It scared me and scattered me at the same time.

What on earth was happening to her? And where the fuck was she?

"Did you try to call her after that message?" Marc asked me.

"She called me," I told him, "But, for the first seconds after I picked the call, she wasn't talking. It was just utter silence. When she now tried to talk at first, I couldn't hear a word she was saying. She was just whispering..."

That solidified Marc's notion. I quickly imagined Mum hiding, trying to speak to me without getting caught. I imagined her quietening down every time someone who shouldn't catch her passed by, and me, screaming on the other side of the line, trying to understand what was happening. I also imagined her trying to speak when she realized they still hung around, talking in low whispers, in order to not attract the attention she was hiding from.

"She asked me if I told anyone about Dad and his mistress, and I assured her that I had never done such a thing before," I told him.

"Then, what happened?" He asked further.

"Well, she..." I swallowed hard on thinking it all again, "She told me to find her. To find her and my brother."

Marc's eyes narrowed in as he was apt and attentive in listening to this. He was waiting to hear even more from me. 

"All the while, the silence over the line was absolutely nauseating," I continued, "But, and then..."

"Then?" He probed, when I paused there.

I sighed, braced myself to say it all over to him.

"She told me that someone had been stalking our family for years," I told him.

His face relaxed, but it was far from comfortable. He looked like his head had scattered into a disarray of thoughts and he just outwardly feigned a straight look on his face.

"I see," Was all he commented.

"She told me to be careful," I told Marc, "That our father may not even be our biggest enemy after all."

Seeing how this 'mystery person' was doing so well to tarnish us online, I knew this could only be the beginning of the terror for us.

"Does that mean that there is a possibility that your father is not even the one who may have her in captive wherever she is?" Marc asked rhetorically.

It was a serious food for thought.

One that almost gave me a headache.

"Do you think so?" I asked him, tired of brainstorming further on this, "What do you think, Marc?"

"We will get to the bottom of this, my love," He assured me. 

"I hope so," I muttered lowly, hugging my legs to my chest with my free hand and pressing my chin to my knees. "I really hope so."

"My mum is super willing to help," He told me, "I am glad you opened up this bit of information to me, she has professionals working side by side her and with this, they could crack some truth out. By the mean time, she already has a house in Chambers, the same Estate where we live. She bought it and she is willing to gift your Mum. It's already signed in her name. Free of charge." 

I was speechless.

I was utterly short of words, and could not comprehend the magnitude of these people's kindness.

"I..." I was stunned, really. Immensely grateful and choking on my words, "I don't know what to say. Christ! I— Thank you! I.. I am just—"

Marc laughed at my dumbfoundedness. "Aurora, it's nothing, really."

"How can you people be so kind?" I had to ask him.

"Please," He waved that compliment off modestly, smiling charmingly, "It's the least we could do for you. At least, after all this is solved, you, your Mum, and your twin brother will have a good place to stay, far away from that man."

Everything I ever wanted...

"Wait," I stopped for a moment, "How did you know that he was my twin brother?"

"Straight from the Horse's mouth, I heard," He easily answered, "Did you forget you told me you had a 'twin' brother?"

"When?" I had to ask.

"When I took you to Heaven," He reminded me, "You forget that easily, Aurora? You pitched him in and said he didn't go to Castron High, and I asked if he went to other Schools like Trinity, Crescent, Crestview, Royal Valley, or Maranatha, and you said Nil?"

Instantly, it all came back to me. That very night he 'tagged' all the schools he just mentioned and why they almost seemed connected to each other. He had called Trinity the prissy and elegant twin of CH. Labelled Crescent as the celebrity little sister. Then, labelled Crestview as the hot new girl that wanted to steal hearts if Castron High was the Queen Bee. 

I remembered everything.

"I was shocked to find out that he wasn't even in other most likely schools like Robyn, Royal Crest, Cambridge and Newland, but when I wanted to push further, you didn't want to talk about him," He reminded me.

"I remember," I told him, "I am just shocked you had such an early event stored in your head."

"Are you kidding me? One of the earliest moments of us," He said, scoffed, "I'd be damned to forget such an experience."

He sure did have an awfully long memory. I wouldn't even had remembered that, if he didn't bring it up. And for the fact he cared so much about every detail of my life that he couldn't forget I had mentioned I had a twin brother in a conversation that I refused to drag longer than three minutes...

It meant a lot.

He meant a lot.

"Thank you," I said to him.

"For?" He asked with a smile.

"Everything," I said, "And, tell your Mum I really appreciate her too."

"It's a done deal," He nodded, "And, look, I hope if you haven't learned anything from this whole thing, you have gone home with one thing..."

I looked to him, and with the way I stared at him with so much butterflies swarming in my stomach, I was certain my eyes were glowing.

"There is always a reason to smile," He said to me, "Whoever it was who did this to you and your family, I can't possibly know their intentions or plans, neither can I understand why they would do something like that... But, what I do know is that, maybe the world getting to know about what goes on in your house is a blessing in disguise. If it never got out to the open, your Mum would have probably died in Silence. You would have never had the chance to be free, and neither would your brother. See?"

"But, Mum..." I wanted to protest, still.

"We will find her," He said to me, promised me, "It's an oath, my love."

That... Calmed me down.

"Everything will be alright," Marc smiled at me. "Certainly."

There was a silence between us.

My boyfriend held onto my hands, and since he had come here with me, he had not let go for even a second. Without saying a word, me and him just sat there on the ground, side by side, hand to hand, staring at nothing.

Just as we wanted to do from the beginning.

Sit down on the ground and stare at nothing. 

And, for the first time in a long time, silence didn't give me anxiety or fret.

Silence was comfortable. It was so comfortable.

Bambi by Baekhyun played and as the sweet melody of the song played, I adjusted myself closer to Marc, my fingers softly drumming in rhythm to the song as they were in his hands, and I slowly bent my head to rest it down upon his shoulder.

This felt sweet. Nice. Peaceful. I wanted to do nothing more than keep my head resting on his shoulder, eyes closed as I sunk into the warm melody, sweet tone, piano streams, bass drops, and mesmerising voice of the song that resounded all around the Hall in all our silence. It was the most beautiful feeling ever, being one with the boy that made my heart beat, feeling the fire that burned for him within me, heating beautifully as I rested my head on a part of him.

Doing the simplest things like resting on his shoulder was even enough to send me into a sweet realm of ferocity. A highness with an intensity I couldn't explain. One where my head was clear and my body was in the air, swaying in lifelessness and sweet intoxication. A place where I felt Love at its fiercest, yet its most peaceful. Hot, yet cool. Fiery, yet peaceful. It was my dwelling place. Marcus Acha was my dwelling place.

"This term has been a lot to take in," I said to him.

He didn't speak, but I knew he was all ears. I knew he was hearing my every word. 

I wasn't complaining. I was simply just thinking back on everything. 

"It's almost hard to believe that all of this happened in just one term," I said.

"Tell me about it," Softly, he laughed too, agreeing.

"If someone told me that one day, I would be in the mouths of Castron High students, and the entire population of Nigeria at large, I'd have called them a brutal liar," I actually laughed about it. "And, to make matters worse, I wouldn't have ever thought that a guy as popular as Marcus Acha was capable of looking at me twice. To the point of confessing Love in the entire School Hallway.—"

Marcus exploded in laughter immediately, his heart out in all of it.

I joined in, laughing. Laughing thoroughly too. Because all of this still felt like a dream, to be honest. I found myself laughing it all off, but the good, the bad, and the cringe. I laughed off even all the times I was insulted, dragged, mocked, and occasionally, praised and suddenly admired all in the name of the rumours. This term was just a LOT!

"Crazy still, I feel like I am learning new things about my friends everyday and have barely scratched the surface," I told Marc.

"Yeah?" He listened still.

"I have been learning some things lately about them. Things I seemed to have been so blind to even see before. Things that are not even good, to be honest..."

Chika and the whole issue with Aaron and the dare, and Casper had still been on my mind.

Soma and her addictions are still getting used to.

The twins' and their little brother had opened up a weakness off Ebere Onuoha that surprised me thoroughly.

And, just the other day, I witnessed Ebube alone, making a move on the boy she liked. Apparently so, that was the most satisfying of them all, so far. 

"Can you even imagine," I scoffed lightly, laughed a little, "Little Dabi would be stunned to find out she was cowardly enough to run away from home." 

"Hey, don't say that," Marc said to me.

"She would even be more shocked to find out that one day, the whole country will find out about her family affair. Such is life," I said with a sigh, shaking my head. 

"If there was something that Little Marc would be surprised about, it would be the fact that Sean and I wouldn't be friends anymore one day," He said.

I felt my heart cut in half for a bit, and I turned to him.

"So, this term, I actually lost my best friend," He said with a wistful shrug.

"I'm so sorry," I said to him.

He laughed under his breath, shook his head, "Nah, don't be. It's all on me."

His voice was lazy, as though he, like me, were also giving a run down of this shitty term.

"Never felt the pressure of being better more than this term I entered SS3," He said, simply quoting facts like they meant nothing much, even though I know they did, "And worse still, for the first time in a long time, I watched my parents have a fight that may be unfixable."

"It will be fixable," I said to him.

"Maybe," He nodded, "I hope."

I hoped too...

"But, see, I have learnt that focusing too much on the negatives will wear me down," He said, "I mean, this term still, we got famous. And, that right there, is a big flex."

He didn't say it like he was discarding the problems or saying that the joy of being famous was greater than the pain of everything he had been through. He said it like he was trying to comfort himself with it. To desperately give him a reason to smile.

"Look at how far you have come, Dabi. You got yourself out there, you got your talent out there, and now, you have dozens of fan pages, and almost a million people supporting your ass, right?" He looked at me with the proudest look in his eyes.

My achievements made him so proud that he was even counting it as part of the good things in his life.

"With you right by my side, I have learned how to not give a fuck about what people think of me, because you are the most beautiful girl I know and anyone who can't see that is the one who's got problems, and not me," He said, punctuating his words with a tone of certainty.

My heart was a fluster of emotions at the moment.

"And, you know the most heart warming part?" He turned to look at me, love and admiration thickening in his irises.

I smiled, flattered at how he looked at me. Like I was a gem. Like I was sparking with a light that drove him crazy and set his soul ablaze.

"What?" I asked him.

He smiled, shook his head in disbelief and awe, as though he couldn't just believe he had such goodness. Such preciousness; Me. 

"I've got you," He said to me. "I've got you, Aurora."

"I've got you too, my love," I responded from my heart, "I've got you, Clyde."

And, that was enough for me right now.

I used to think that with too many broken things around you, you were bound to lose your mind.

But, now, I have come to the understanding that even when there are too many broken things around you...

There are still a few perfect things left to smile about.

The bridge of Bambi was the only sound blasting in the entire Hall, and I was almost certain that Baekhyun wrote that song for me and Marc. My knees gave way and he took the opportunity to lay, resting his head on my lap, fitting in perfectly like a child to its mother, and in that position, we stayed in perfect harmony. 

"How do you feel now, Aurora?"

I looked to Marc who now had his head, resting on my lap like it was the most comfortable pillow ever. My fingers, idle on what to do, found its way to the lining of the grey beanie on his head, fondling with the woollen fabric as I smiled to myself in wonder.

"Better, I guess," He answered softly, satisfied, as he looked up at me. Brown eyes stared up at me and they were so full of life, like seeing me smile gave him life.

"Kinda," I agreed with a nod.

"And, now, I don't want to ever leave here," Marc said sincerely with a laugh.

"Me too," I said to him, "But, unfortunately, we aren't even supposed to be here." I played with the strands of his hair in twists that fell from beneath his beanie, untwisting the twists and massaging the hair, then twisting it right back, and rinse and repeat. "Didn't you notice?"

Playing with his hair had fast become a guilty pleasure. I wasn't sure what it was about fondling with his hair that interested me, but every time that I had the chance to, it felt so satisfying: His hair was always so neat, and smelt so, so good. Like Honey and Coconut Oil. It was soft too. Very soft.

It was greased too, but not enough to make it uncomfortable or sticky on the fingers; it was almost like an warm ointment to your hands. His hair was so tender on the fingers, and it was very easy to part it, just by teasing your fingers into and between it. Fiddling it into twists was like fiddling velvet. So, playing with Marc's hair had fast become my favourite form of ASMR.

"We are the only ones here," I reminded him, "And, since the time of the Greenland Bonfire Celeb Party, I haven't been coming to Dance Class."

That seemed to alarm him the slightest. His eyebrows furrowed together as he looked up at me, me staring down at his brown eyes as he stayed there on me.

"It's normal, don't fret," I said to him. "Yukerya doesn't like to leave the class open on Sundays and Festive Periods." We were literally a week and a few days to Christmas. 

"So, she trusts you like that, huh," He said. "Cheers to being the teacher's pet na."

"There is no favouritism in this class, " I laughed and told him, "It's just that Yukerya trusts some people with some certain level of responsibly than others."

"Oh?" He listened, engaged in me completely.

"Yeah," I nodded, "That was actually why she let me choreograph and teach the entire class for the Dance Contest we got into."

"Nah, she let you do that, because no one else would have done it better than you," Marc said to me, "The time you realize, Aurora, that you are a beast at what you do, the better for you!"

Who needed a hypeman when you could just have my boyfriend?

I laughed. "I don't like to think of myself that way," I told him, "Everyone here is also pretty talented too."

"Agreed," He didn't argue on that, "You, my love, just stand out."

His effortless and steady compliments had me smiling harder than I intended to. I was playing with Marc's hair and blushing so aggressively, covering my face with one of my hands and nearly falling into his face as my heart flustered. He was laughing his heart out, laying there on my lap and belting out laughter at my reaction. Ringing laughter that was the sweetest thing to listen to.

"You know, I used to hate the periods that Yukerya used to give Dance Class a 'vacation'..."

I was talking to Marc as we stayed in that tender position, him in my arms, and the pretty dim, but warm lights of the Hallway, flashing around us in specks of blue and purple, while Peaches by KAI played around, filling me and my body up with bubbles of pleasure. 

"...But, I do like it here," I said to him. "Just you and me."

"I get what you mean," He chucked, seconding the notion. 

Bubbles of Pleasure, they swarmed all around me, and excited me. The Disco lights of the Hall that spread those euphoric lights all around the place, dotted on our skin beautifully. Marc and I shined in the dark, the lights brightening my black overalls, and turning his white into subtle shades of the blue and purple that took it turns, lightening the room.

Black and White had never looked so good in blending variety of lights. It was not just a wonderful place to be in, it was also the most aesthetic too.

"Dancing is a therapy for me," I said to Marc. Couldn't even stop the smile that spread across my face, no matter how much my eyes crinkled and cheeks burned in the name of controlling it. I caressed the skin of his perfect face, absorbed all his heightened beauty in the lights, "But, Clyde, so are you."

Each time I was in his presence, I felt everything I felt for him, heightening even more. When I thought I couldn't feel so much more affection for him, he always proved me wrong. He gave the same energy back, maybe even more passionately. I could feel all he felt for me. Just the same way that I felt it so. 

Without warning, though, he sprung up from my lap, jumping to his feet with the biggest grin on his face. He was so adorable, smiling like that. He looked like an overgrown baby. 

"What's making you so excited?" I asked him.

He didn't particularly answer, but his grin didn't stop growing wider. He looked so happy, it was so contagious. And, when I saw him moving with a hop in his steps, a hurried energy towards the speakers where my phone was plugged in, I quickly understood what the hell he was up to. 

My eyes grew wide in surprise and disbelief at this boy. So, that was why he was so excited!

"Don't tell me you want us to dance right now," I playfully scolded him from my distance, "Alone in this big hall. Are you serious right now?"

He broke into laughter, doubling over and holding his hands onto his stomach.

"It's not like its something we haven't done before," He said through laughter.

"Me and you," I pointed between him and me, "We are not a mad couple in Jesus name."

"Are you sure about that?" Marcus laughed even harder, asking me with brows raised i challenge, "Because you and I," He pointed between me and him, "Have done some pretty questionable things before."

"Okay, so maybe we are a little crazy," I pinched the air to emphasise, laughing.

"But, isn't that the best part of our relationship?" He sounded proud of the fact, "The fact that we are up to set records for our own madness, babe."

"Come and sit down back here, abeg," I shunned him with a playful hiss.

"So, what do you want us to dance to? Something new or one of our All-time-favourites?" He was still pushing it, "You know, I remember all the song we ever dances to," And without a trigger, he started mentioning them, "DTF by Ckay in Wonder Coast, Needed You by Noah Cyrus and Labrinth here; We also danced Wow by Sabrina Carpenter here too, abi? Bonfire was Trampoline by Zayn and—"

"Come and sit down o!" I was screaming at him at that point.

Apparently, the last thing that he was going to do was pay me any kind, and I hated how much I laughed uncontrollably and could not feign seriousness that would get him to sit his ass down. And, he was enjoying this. Maybe, I was too. He had already gotten to my phone and started to tamper with it, scrolling through what I knew was my song gallery.

"This boy, you don't use to hear word sha." I scolded him, but that was my business.

Another song by KAI called Amnesia was already started with its intro like sweet piano, fine beats and warm vocals, and Marc was doing his thing, whether I liked it or not. 

And by his thing, those small rhythmic strides and fancy body rolls he did according to the beat and tempo of the song could not have looked even sexier on him. His body tapped perfectly into the flow, and while he let the music control his sleek moves, he made his way towards me, grinning and smiling at me.

"I am not dancing with you, my guy. Leave me o," I warned him but his steps towards me only got bigger, and he started move side to side with the beat of the song, having fun with the song and tapping into an inner jazz that I didn't even know he could activate; his waists rolled and whined in sync to the song, moved from side to side as his body matched every vibe of the song, his hands playing an invisible guitar, while at it.

"Marcus, I am warning you, don't come here," I kept saying, even if he acted like I wasn't talking. Dancing towards me, for me, and God, by every second, making me fall more and more for him.

I genuinely thought that he was not ready to listen to me, but it surprised me, after a while, that he actually hadn't gotten to me yet, just like I had warned. It was like he was listening to me, but not listening to me. He was cautious enough to not force me to dance if I didn't want to, at the time, but that didn't stop him from grooving himself.

He was simply dancing for me.

He was giving me a show.

And, I loved every single second of it.

He looked so beautiful when possessed by Music and controlled by Dance. His body moved in perfect accord, every part of it eased into the song, immersed into the vibe, and he respected every beat of the song, moving his feet smoothly and neatly to every one of it, gliding hands in the air as though the sound was moving like waves he wanted to imitate, snapping his fingers in sync with every beat as his body rolled in rhythm. He was a masterpiece to watch. 

Subconsciously, my head snapped in sync with Marc's fingers and the beat of the song. My feet tapped onto the ground accordingly, and my shoulders played around, my body reflexively accepting the vibes that were being transmitted into me.

"Come here, my love," He tried to pick me up.

I was trying to fight the feeling, but my legs were already up before I could stop myself, Marc gently, but easily lifting me to my feet.

"I am not in the mood..." I tried to protest, but my body betrayed every thing that slipped out my mouth, following in correspondence to Marc's movements, and I laughed at the clownery that was me. "Marc, seriously, I..."

"It's okay," He said to me, and strong hands, gentle and caring, wrapped around me, in the most protective manner, holding me close to himself so, so dearly. 

His embrace was so desperate. It reeked of desperation. He held me like he never wanted to let go, his body, our bodies, moving slowly, but in rhythm to the music that played. His hands were wrapped around me, everywhere, pressing my body onto him, dearly marrying his head into the croon of my neck, nesting his nose into skin, pouring himself into me in one embrace. He was hugging me like it was the last time he was ever going to get a chance to.

Marc meant it when he said he wouldn't force me into anything I wasn't sure of. We weren't dancing. We were swaying softly in that embrace. It was so satisfying.

"Will I see you at the Christmas party tomorrow, Aurora?"

I was frail in his arms, but I loved it. He was the only thing holding me on my feet, because with the way that the electrifying energy passed into my body, if his hold was not so strong on me, I would have fallen to my knees, weakly.

"You are not coming, are you?" He said to me, I felt his whispers like a tease on my skin as he spoke into it, softly, "I know you want to run away."

I couldn't answer. I wasn't coming, but I wasn't sure how to say it hat to him, if he already sounded this distraught about it. My head was on his chest, resting on it, as his face was buried against my shoulder, nose against my neck. 

"Why?" He asked me in a soft whisper.

Goosebumps formed as I felt his voice against my skin.

"Marc, you know our classmates..." I tried to explain, "... I can't, I'm sorry."

His hold on me strengthened, I felt it. It didn't make me uncomfortable. The stronger his hold, the more protected I felt. I felt a big sigh leave off him, and I wanted to open my mouth and say more, but he beat me to it.

"I won't force you to do what you don't want to do," He said to me.

"Thank you," I whispered back.

Because of him, I was even starting to have some second thoughts.

"But, Aurora..." He whispered again.

"Yes?" I whispered back.

"If you change your mind for any reason," He said to me, "I want you to walk in there like the Queen that you are..."

His hands trickled down the sides of my body as he said that in sweet whispers, punctuating his words with a soft, quick kiss to my neck that dotted the skin on my body, sent chills down my spine.

"You hear me, babe?" He kissed the same spot again, and again, and again, like he knew that was the target, my soft spot, "You hear me?"

My voice came out in strangled whispers, unable to withstand the heat in all of this, the slight shaking of my hands and legs caused my voice to shake too. "Y-Yes..."

"Never forget that you are worth many precious things," He said to me, kissed that spot again, forcing my breath harshly out of me as I tried to hold myself together - a failed attempt. "And, not everyone is going to see that, but it should not matter to you, my love." His lips on my skin was heaven, trailing around the very same spot, short like a peck, but effective. It felt like clouds on my skin, the tip of his nose teased wickedly, sweetly still, as he softly caressed his lips on my skin like velvet.

My eyes closed, absorbing the intensity I felt. Marc was so skilled at what he did, handling a girl's body; even by doing the simplest things, the most effortless things, he could set your body on fire and suspend you into a realm that was beyond human comprehension. I closed my eyes, felt velvet and clouds on that spot he had found on my neck, and slowly, slowly, lost myself in him.

"Open your eyes, Aurora," He spoke into the croon of my neck, drawing slow circle with the tip of his nose against my skin.

Hell, he wasn't making it easy...

"Open your eyes," He said to me again, "I need you to hear everything that I have to say, my love." He kissed again, electrified my soul once more, "I need you to hear every single word."

Damn it...

"If you do come by tomorrow," He continued, "I will not stand here and tell you that people will not talk. Our classmates, they feed on tearing people down, but why give them that power over you anymore? Isn't it right time you denied them that satisfaction?"

Isn't it?

"Do that," He urged me on, "Show them that even if you are not perfect, you are more than proud. That you don't care about their judgement on you." He found my pleasure on the other side of my neck, marked the target with an electrifying quick kiss. "But, you are perfect to me. Show them how much of a gem you are. Don't do it for me, my love. Do it for yourself."

I felt his lips part slightly as it pressed against my skin and when I felt his tongue lightly graze it, my breath seized on the spot. Marc started to nibble against my neck with an open-mouthed kiss, passionate and heart stopping. He had his target on that soft spot that drove the senses right out of me, sped my heart dangerously, and made my body tremble and shake at his mercy.

"Fuck," I whispered, unable to stand. I had no idea that my body was slipping away from his hold, weak and limp, until he held me, balanced me in a hold, and I stayed there, the only thing supporting me from hitting the ground was his hold.

Every time Marc kissed me, he seemed to have something else take over. The tension always built up slowly, gradually, climbing steadily its steps of ecstasy and rising the more he got overwhelmed. My head fell back to give him more access, and he was marking me all over, making sure to not leave any spot on my now neck, un-kissed. 

He was thorough, my God. Holding me and trailing those kisses everywhere, from one side of my neck to the other, and as his passion increased by the second, his sucking against my skin had more pressure, more roughness, and I hated how I couldn't control my breathing, the sounds that came out of me, as he made sure to leave love marks all over every nook and cranny of my neck, pouring out all of him, his love, hard, passionate, and intense, on me.

"Marc..." I called him, my voice in a choked whisper. I was in between pleading for him to stop for a second, to give me a moment to catch my own breath and asking him to continue, never stop, and he seemed to go with the latter. Like he read my mind, he finished work. 

He completely finished work.

I was a moaning, useless mess. 

"I will be right there by your side, Aurora," His voice was ragged and breathy as he spoke to me, him exhausted from all the passion, but wanting even more, "Me and You. Aurora and Clyde. We will walk in there together, and even if they talk about us and cast their stones..." He was panting, looking me in the eyes as he lost himself and tried to catch his breath simultaneously, "Screw them."

He trailed from my neck and found his way to my lips, trapping them first in between his teeth , watching me watch him with eyes dead in seduction, and softly, pulling on it until they let go from its captive. With a crash, he fell onto my lips again, hands wrapped around my neck, as he pulled me into him, deepening his kiss by the second like his aim was to reach my soul.

"Screw our classmates, Dabeluchi Aurora Orji,"

My body shuddered as Marc recklessly and beautifully wrecked me with Love, his lips a weapon that destroyed every bit of me with passion; he was sucking, tasting, nibbling, biting, marking, having it just the way I wanted and my body and senses were utterly useless at this point.

"Screw our classmates, because, I, Marcus Bruno Acha, am in love with you."

Our passion climbed, heightened, and tore us both beautifully, in ways that I couldn't comprehend. We were both gasping, short of breath, exhausted from taking in the kind of Love that was too strong for us, him confessing sweet nothingness all the way.

"I love you, Aurora..."

Our souls were on, connecting with the same passion we gave and took from each other.

"Believe me."

Omoh, who dey breath o?????

Guy, tbh, I don't know what enters me every time I write a sensual scene with Dacha, it just hits different, abeg. These two will kill me!

Hopefully, if you were not too distracted from all the Love-Dovey, you must have gotten a thing or two from this chapters sha. If you did, COMMENT IT HERE OOO! 

Unfortunately, I can't use emojis because I am using my Laptop sha, but OH WELL! Make sure to check out all the songs at the beginning of the chapters; all of them mirror Dacha for me, with their melody, And, God, the scene where Acha danced for Dabi, argh!!! (Insert screaming emoji) One word for Dacha, guys. And use this chapter hold body, because shit coming later sha. It's well. Omoh. 

OH AND PLEASE OOOO, YOU GUYS CHECK OUT 'TWINNING WITH THE PEN' on @WritersNetwork ooo!  Here me out!

It's a collection of Collabs from Authors all over the WattNaija community, and I collaborated with, no other than..... (Drum Roll Please!)

@AddictiveRose !!!!

So, um, it is Story Hashtag 7, and the title is 'What if...', and it is fire!!! Ask Rose. We finished work! So check it out and see for yourself, and when you have time, go through the rest of the stories of the entire collection. Just know that people dey write!!!!

Anywho! THE CHRISTMAS PARTY IS TOMMOROW IN TMBT WORLD. WHO IS EXCITED???

Book One is soon coming to an end. Sigh. See y'all Tuesday, Next week! Bye!