The Wolf Spider's Web

A piercing knife-like pain scratched Obianuju’s thigh jolting her up and out of her haze, the putrid stench stung her nostrils as she inhaled the dirty air around her. She glanced down at her bruised thigh, stained and bloodied, mottled with marks and abrasions of unknown origin. She stroked it carefully, feeling the grittiness and undulations of her skin. Her hand ran further up to the origin of her pain, she jumped abruptly and immediately. Her gasps were sudden - she looked down at her arms; there were red wheels and small pimples from hard contact, she began to fear her condition. She desperately began to run her hands over her limbs; her arms, her legs, her feet, as if to test that they were really hers. Her body felt different and detached, she felt her hair knotted and twisted, matted and wet from sweat and no doubt tears. Her face burned and stung as she gently traced the outline with her fingers, she didn’t remember...she couldn’t remember.

She tried to rise and noticed the squalor beneath her, a heavily stained mattress torn and shredded barely covering the stone floor. She attempted to connect her feet with the ground and tumbled back banging her head, she cried out but was not heard. She rubbed her sore wrists. “I must remember” she mouthed the words, hoping that sound would emanate from her split lips but she felt so tired, so gripped with pain and fear of her surroundings, nothing came.

She glanced around her - in the corner of the room was an old porcelain sink standing gingerly on one leg with water dripping mischievously from the rusty tap. She was so thirsty; she was parched. The incessant dripping became the centre of her focus as she tried once more to rise off the floor.

She fell almost instantaneously to her knees. She had never felt like this before. She had no control over her body and for once she was gripped by the unknown. She could not decide if she was in a dream, her mind raced but focused once more on the liquid in the corner. She dragged her legs slowly towards it, she winced from the pain. The dilapidated stone ripped at her skin tearing little rivulets into it, filling up with dark red blood and spilling over and smudging against her calves. She cried out. She was alone.

Her gnarled hands wrapped around the ancient pipe and she groaned as she pulled herself up and towards the opening. Her tongue extended out lapping up the water like a dog. She slowly gulped down until she was fulfilled, letting the remainder trickle down her chin cleaning the dirt and blood as it passed over her skin. She sat back down with a bump - she needed to remember.

Obianuju was beautiful. Her eyes were wide and deep, drawing in all who looked at her. She mesmerised and drifted out of dimensions, her hair was unusually long and soft, passed from generations; she looked so much like her grandmother, at least that’s what everyone had told her. Her body curved and caressed; she was a young woman. No one could have warned her, told her or taught her; her spirit was strong and could not be tamed.

She felt a knot rise in the pit of her stomach.

She twisted and coughed - the acidic burn crept up her, she held it, she gasped, struggling to breathe, she dribbled, she drifted in and out of consciousness, her vision was blurring. A shadow presented itself to her. A deep voice screeched out into the darkness.

“She’s awake!”

Obianuju felt searing pain as the shadow gripped her arms, wrestling her unwilling frame to the floor; she swept the floor with her hair and bruised shoulders, a sting and a deep sleep followed.

“She’s gonna be trouble, she’s wild.” Antonio spat as he spoke. He swiped his nose with the back of his hairy hand.

“That’s the way he likes it”.

He wiped the grit onto his already dirty and faded jeans and pulled out a cigarette. “Me? I don’t want to hear anything, not a word, just silence, that’s best.”

He chuckled to himself. Antonio shouted out towards the doorway, “Let’s go, we got a new one to break in”. He took a drag and blew out the smoke in front of him.

“Just once” he kicked Obianuju on the leg, “that’s all I need; don’t worry baby, there’s time.” he turned and left.

Obianuju’s bruised body flopped back onto the floor. She felt suffocated and feared the worst.

Ade impishly fiddled with his clothes, brushing the dust off to one side. Isabella opened the door so only a gap existed.

“Ade, I told you not to come here. Do you want to see me thrown out?”

“It’s ok, I watched and waited for him to leave. Let’s go for a walk.” Ade beamed up at her.

Isabella was possessed briefly. Ade was bewildering to her. She could not understand him, he flashed between moods and swung from one day to the next in an irresistible wildness, that she could not calculate but it captivated her. Against her better judgement, she slipped a smile and opened the door wider.

“Wait” she begged.

Ade stamped his foot playfully on the dusty floor. He could feel the excitement building up inside him. Ade was some years her senior and a somewhat wily character. His own painful journey had taught him a few lessons and he was not shy of branching into whatever fortune he could. He had left his family behind some years ago now and was making his way through the maze of the city, usually beneath its surface in the underground world that no one ever sees. His boyish good looks were often camouflaged by the dirt and sweat of whatever work he could find but today he cleaned himself up to present to Isabella. She popped around the corner.

“Lets go” she chirped, as he grabbed her waist and swept her out onto the streets of Milan.

For a moment, she forgot herself, the city swept around her, dancing in and out of her path reaching into her breath.

Ade dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled note browned, faded and torn and speedily presented it to the street seller in front of him.

He smiled, as he passed a drink to Isabella. “I want you to meet Alessandro today”, he mumbled as he sipped from his bottle. “He’s only around for a while. You will like him.” Isabella stared at him.

He had spoken of Alessandro before and she did not like him. There was something that hung over him, a cloud of mystery that she could not explain and it made her uneasy.

“Ade, I have to get back early today, I am travelling tomorrow”. “Nonsense” he bounced back. “I want you to know him. He’s my friend.”

He gripped her hand and pulled her along, across the meandering roads teeming with traffic. She remembered her first experience of the city when she first arrived. She had been terrified. Everything was strange. It was almost like the termite mound she had seen as a child; people running back and forth over and under, a labyrinth of activity, a smoldering pot with no escape.

Ade stopped abruptly. “Wait here, I’m coming.”

Isabella watched attentively as he skipped across, down and out of sight.

In the distance, she could see some boys smoking, sitting casually on top of broken cars and debris, drinking, chatting and laughing; hungry, desperate individuals, on the edge, waiting, waiting for prey, for their next opportunity. She was anxious and unsettled; she thought of leaving but she did not want to upset Ade.

She had begun to realise that her life was more and more entwined with his. He was a familiar and welcome addition to her life and she needed him more than she realised.

Ade appeared out of nowhere with his fingers wrapped around a beer bottle.

“He can’t wait to meet you. I have told him everything about you”, he chatted happily. Isabella gingerly followed him down the winding steps, down into a dark, dry room cluttered with boxes. The room was dark and dingy and did not resemble the description Ade had given of how successful Alessandro was.

“Ade, my man” Alessandro grabbed Ade by the shoulders and swung him out of the way. So this is your babe?” He swept past and stood before Alessandro. “She’s hot!” He gripped Isabella by the arms and hugged her. Isabella instantly took a dislike to him. She smelled his breath on her neck in their brief embrace and felt that he was overly familiar. She shot a glance at Ade who had not flinched at Alessandro’s actions and obviously approved. She looked down.

“Isabella, come sit near me” Alessandro banged a dusty stool beside him. “Come, let us drink together?” he beamed. Alessandro was different from the men in the area. He wore clean bright expensive clothes that drew her attention like a moth to light. “Ade, go bring some drinks for us.”

Alessandro dug his fat hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a large folded pack of notes. She was mesmerised.

Alessandro turned to her. “So, so beautiful”, he beamed, brushing his fingers against her hair. Ade did not do you justice”.

She listened to the way his words smoothly rolled off his tongue, his language was clean and slick. Time passed, Alessandro spoke of his family in the South, his words rolled from one to the next in an incessant flurry of syllables hypnotising her. The room was hot and suffocating. Ade appeared with drinks clinking on a metal tray which he barely balanced. Alessandro reached out instantly and passed one to Isabella. Isabella took a polite sip and placed it down next to her.

“This is a celebration! My first time of meeting the beautiful Isabella!” guffawed Alessandro almost choking on the liquid. Their glasses chimed as they toasted the occasion; both men knocked back their drinks with haste. Ade tiptoed up to Isabella, whispering in her ear “drink Isabella, it’s not polite”.

Obianuju nursed her head as she drifted slowly back into consciousness. She could delineate the outlines of some unfamiliar objects in the room. Her lips were cracked and a strange taste of metal permeated her mouth. She propelled herself painfully onto her elbows and sat upright. Directly in front of her, was a shadowy figure, quite still yet she could see the chest rise and descend very gently.

Obianuju scrambled to her feet “wake up, wake up” she cajoled as she desperately shook the body.

The young girl with long soft brown curls falling below her shoulders did not react.

“Do you remember anything .. anything at all?” begged Obianuju.

The girl opened her eyes slowly, first the left then the right and stared right back at her; almost through her.

“Bella?” Obianuju gently pulled on her shoulders, helping her to sit up. A silent tear ran down Isabella’s face as she hugged Obianuju tightly.

“Isabella, we must escape, can you walk?”

Obianuju tugged hard at Bella’s body, dragging her to her toes, scratching the poorly tiled floor with her deep scarlet designer shoes.

“Try and steady yourself” Obianuju flickered around nervously with her head, “we need to leave quickly before they return”.

Even saying these words brought disbelief; Obianuju couldn’t even remember how long she had remained here. She felt a sickness in the pit of her stomach as she looked down at Bella’s face. How could she have tricked her friend? A desperate attempt to swap her pain for Bella’s? Ade’s empty promise. She had introduced her friend to Ade in a bid to escape. Ade was like a wolf spider; an agile hunter who lives in solitude but stalks his prey, pouncing with deadly power, weaving webs and haunting the nightmares of those in his path. Obianuju felt the shame sweep over her, making her hands and fingers tingle and pulsate. Their fate sat watching in amusement.

A door slammed hard in the distance. Quickening footsteps approached tapping loudly on the stone steps. Obianuju bolted forward and whispered into Bella’s ear “someone is coming”.

Bella’s face was bruised and displayed a story of a painful journey peppered with pain; the dire reality of her existence crept up and suffocated her, her increasing breath built up and she bellowed out a piercing cry; “help me” Bella’s voice boomed and screeched ricocheting off the gnarled and damp walls of the building. The footsteps quickened.

Obianuju spun around and slammed her hand over Bella’s mouth; “Bella no, no”. Bella began to sob uncontrollably; her frame heaving and bubbling from the emotion. “I can’t stay here, I can’t”. Tears streamed down her blackened cheeks, she gripped Obianuju’s hand tightly, “please help me get out of here”.

The footsteps stopped abruptly. Obianuju stood nervously as the man approached. He appeared to be twinned by another, an older character with a chiseled face and angular jaw, bearing clear signs of neglect.

The first man, a younger figure nodded towards Bella, “that’s her, that’s the one”. Bella’s eyes beamed upwards and zoned into the younger man’s face as if she had been shocked by volts.

She took a quick breath “Ade” she gasped.

She studied his face for a change of demeanour “it’s me, Bella”.

Bella felt a blanket of relief envelop her as she realised it must be all some kind of misunderstanding that soon he will sweep her up and whisk her back to her old life. Ade’s words pierced her blissful thoughts aggressively. Ade turned towards the older man on his left nodding towards Bella. “She’s yours”. Obianuju felt the urge to speak up, to raise her voice, to plead, to cajole Ade, after all, it was his mesmerising words and gestures that had driven her to introduce Bella to him. She was mute.

The impact of Ade’s words skated over the top of Bella’s consciousness without entering, “I don’t understand” She glanced towards Obianuju who seemed to be frozen in fear. Bella glanced back at the man standing now directly in front of her. “Ade”, she screamed “I’m your Bella,” she paused briefly, “your Bella”.

Ade scuffed his heels playfully up the steps breaking into a smile. He reassuringly felt the pad of dry notes folded in his pocket, he sniffed nonchalantly and disappeared out of sight.

Bella watched his exit; panic began to fill every part of her body. The man smiled insidiously, mocking her delusion.

“No, Bella, I own you now”.

He put two grubby fat fingers into his mouth and whistled boyishly. Obianuju felt helpless as two more men presented, this time their fingers stiffly wrapped around triggers, stinking of whisky.

“Take her” he stuttered. Bella tried to turn, her eyes darting in all directions. She tore at Obianuju begging her to intervene. Obianuju desperately grabbed a loose brick she had squirreled in a corner and swung at one of the men, she heard a loud snap and blacked out.

“I don’t know why they say business before pleasure”, chuckled Ifeanyi, “pleasure is my business, my friend”.

He slapped his dry hand onto Giulliano’s back as they left the airport. Giulliano was what is known in Milanese circles as a cugine, a guy striving to make his moves in the family business but was still finding his way. Giulliano was the presentable face, the charming and illustrious face and he had served Ifeanyi on many trips; this one being no different from any other.

Ifeanyi had a checkered background, a man of many trades and associates, not all legit, not all fruitful but they all culminated in the same focus; money. A slave to its promises, the casualties to this policy had piled up one on top of the other and his family were far from his thoughts.

“I’m here only for a short while Giulli, fix me up with something to make life sweeter”. Ifeanyi broke out into a smile from one side of his face, his dark eyes darting around the courtesy taxi they had both entered.

Antonio trotted down the steps into the room.

“Hey get up, you’re leaving”, he spat the words out as he kicked Obianuju in the side. Obianuju was too tired to resist or protest, she stumbled to her bare feet neglecting to brush down the dust on her clothes, her dignity and vision of self, clouded and lost in her nightmare. Antonio pinched her skin as he pulled her up the steps and into a poorly lit passage.

“Wait there”. He pushed her down thoughtlessly onto a cold boulder that stung her skin. Antonio vanished.

Obianuju bent her aching head to one side to try to hear the voices barely audible from inside; what seemed like italian excitedly exclaimed, followed by a brief scuffle. Antonio emerged with a tall, slender woman in what must have been her 40s, she approached and loomed over Obianuju like a tall tree whose ripe fruit hung down from its branches. Stand up you are coming with me. She observed obianuju carefully, looking her up and down constantly. She spun Obianuju around as approval emanated from her bright red lips.

“We don’t have much time”, she said quickly, dragging Obianuju up and up. As they ascended, bright light shone and struck Obianuju fiercely in the face. She winced. How long had she been down there? She no longer had any sense of time or construct and one day rolled into the next with evil intent.

At once, a room cleared and Obianuju was astonished to discover that on top of her prison had been paradise all along. It had been so close. She even doubted whether she had in fact passed and been presented to heaven. The pure brilliance of the white walls stung her eyes.

“This is our VIP lounge. You will clean up and present yourself. You will not do anything ... if you try to run, we will hunt you down and kill you and your family; remember you belong to us”.

The towering Tatiana, threw clean towels and clothes at Obianuju who stood speechless in the centre of the room. She turned and left and obianuju was alone once more.

“Nothing changes much”, smiled Ifeanyi as he bounded confidently into paradise. The wooden door closed abruptly behind him, he tiptoed over to a wooden side cupboard, opening it and pouring himself a drink. He threw it to the back of his throat gulping greedily and chuckling to himself. Running water could be heard from inside the bathroom, he opened the door and saw the outline of a young girl in the shower. Ifeanyi smiled to himself, stepped inside and quietly closed the bathroom door behind him.

Obianuju hung her head down, tears slowly meandering over her cheeks, looking at the floor, as if she was studying it. She smudged the train of blood creeping down her thigh. Ifeanyi’s words echoed and slid like warm butter over bread into the atmosphere. Her paradise had been disturbed and she no longer felt part of it. Her peace had been pierced by his aggressive desire and her world would never be the same.

“What’s your name” bellowed Ifeanyi for the third time carefully studying her response.

“Obia...Gilda” stuttered Obianuju, remembering Tall Tree’s instructions (“No real names”). “My name is Gilda”. Ifeanyi took her hand and smiled.

“That means sacrifice, Gilda means sacrifice”. He laughed. “What have you sacrificed for me?”.

Obianuju felt her breath becoming shallow, her eyes glazed over slightly and she felt light headed.

“You are definitely my favourite” chuckled Ifeanyi standing up and pouring himself another drink. “There’s something about you, almost familiar, my dear.”

Ifeanyi stroked her hair. Obianuju felt nauseous. She felt it rising in her stomach, creeping up her oesophagus, she grasped her throat in an attempt to stop it.

Tatiana’s words rang out in her head, “make conversation, don’t just sit there, if you do things right, well who knows how this could help you”. Obianuju looked down. “Nothing had helped Bella” she thought.

“Are you in Italy on business?” mumbled Obianuju quietly.

Ifeanyi looked up surprised but pleased that she was showing an interest.

“Yes, of course. I have hardly spent any time at home; I’m an International traveller, you may say. Sadly, I always spent a lot of time away from my family.

These series of enquiries from Obianuju seemed to strike up something inside Ifeanyi as he spoke of his home with some enthusiasm.

Ifeanyi swept over to the other side of the room, and dug around into his tired brown leather bag. Reaching to its depths, he painfully removed a photo, withered and stained by age, of his family; his wife, his young children he chirped as he presented it happily to Obianuju.

Obianuju screeched high pitches of despair as she collapsed to the ground, she could no longer contain the vomit welling up, driving out her body.

“My God”, Ifeanyi stepped back away from her shaking frame, and watched until she went quite still.

In his wild panic, he grabbed his possessions, glancing around the room up to the corners, scanning with his eyes, he stepped over her bruised arm and stopped in his tracks as if an evil spirit had entered the room. On the under surface of her forearm, etched in black was a marking. His mind was buzzing, his thoughts racing frantically through his head. He gingerly bent down on his toes and prized the worn photo from her grasp, bringing it for closer inspection.

The happy family photo, this same photo that he had carried around with him in his possession, had entered different arenas and now was this the final one. He squinted as he tried to illuminate and focus on the baby cradled in his wife’s arms. The marking.

He inhaled sharply, twisting his torso away from the body below him. Staggering from one foot to the next, he maniacally flung open the door to the room and ran, his steps chasing one after the other, faster and faster, sweeping along the passages and out into the light.

Obianuju’s frail body lay bathed in his sin, and did not move. A cool breeze swept over her….

“I knew you were trouble from the first time I met you” hissed Ade vindictively, swinging Obianuju around abruptly by her matted hair. “This is no place for a pregnant girl but I know just what to do with you.”

In the distance, Obianuju could make out the shadowy figure of a short delivery boy at the top of the stairs, for one single moment, their eyes met, he stared down at her. Confusion sprung up around his features and the air seemed still. Obianuju froze. Where was Tatiana? Was this a trick? Surely, she wouldn’t be so careless? An icy tingling tremor crept through her muscles, rising with such sharpness, it stole her breath. She bolted. Obianuju shot up the stairs at an alarming pace, with an energy unfamiliar to her in all her time here. She shot past the boy like a wild mare from the stables, stumbling maniacally over the pebbled path. The light pierced her face and momentarily dazed her. She fled. And never looked back.

Her sacrifice had been great.