"Teniola, I think something is watching us." 

A shiver of apprehension crawled up my spine as I lay in bed. I propped myself up on my elbows and stared at Niyi. "What do you mean something? You mean someone."

Niyi turned over to get a better look at my face, and looked into my eyes. "Babe, I know what I am saying."

Despite the circumstances, my heart fluttered momentarily. I loved to hear him call me babe. Truth be told, I went to his house because I was feeling increasingly uneasy in mine.

"Since when?" I asked.

He got up and took a sip from a glass of water. "For sometime now," he frowned as he gave it some thought. "Around a month. I just did not want to alarm you."

I rolled over and smiled without mirth. "Well, the good news is that whatever it is, is watching us. Solidarity forever."

He snatched the small dish of dodo, fried plantain, on his bedside table from my reach before I could eat any more.

"Hey!" I shouted. "That is my—"

Niyi silenced me by looking into my eyes and feeding me a few pieces. His eyes shifted to my lips, and I giggled. "Yum Yum." I held his finger between my teeth and smirked.

He pulled his finger out slowly, threw a pillow at me and shook his head. "Elere pa. Enu re da bi enu kiniun. Playful girl. Your mouth is like a lion's mouth."

I chuckled as I threw the pillow back at him and got a perfect shot at his head. "It is a goal!" I shouted. 

All the playfulness was merely me sweeping the fear of the unknown under the carpet. It was a toxic coping mechanism. The idea that Niyi and I were being watched terrified me. I wrongly assumed that the best way to manage anxiety was to laugh. Sadly, I was not alone. If not, why were there so many depressed comedians?

It was a month after Kennedy Olajide made his demands. I did not want to be a tool in his obsessive greed for power. I bluntly refused to do what he asked and he was livid. He had already demonstrated his ability to steal, kill and destroy. It was likely that he was monitoring us.

I cleared my throat, "Niyi, there is something I need to tell you."

He put one hand on my waist and the other lazily played with my hair. He looked into my eyes, "Do not get carried away by my good looks. Tell me what is on your mind," he said calmly.

"Seriously? How do you keep a straight face when you are being ridiculous?" I asked.

"Elementary, my dear Teniola. I am a lawyer."

"Come on, Niyi. I am not kidding," I groaned.

"Okay babe. Kilo n sele? What's happening?"

I sighed and told him everything. Right from the time that Kennedy Olajide came to my office, to the point where my editor-in-chief told me to 'take the money and destroy the Orisajanas because they would do the same if they were in my shoes.' Niyi nodded thoughtfully and hugged me closer as I narrated the story. I felt like a huge boulder had been lifted off my chest.

"Do not do it, Teniola. Kennedy Olajide and Rotimi Orisajana are two very powerful men in the political arena," he said. "Kennedy o gbadun rara, Rotimi naa o sun won. Kennedy is not okay at all, Rotimi is also a bad man."

I closed my eyes and fiddled with my ponytail. "I am not going to lie, I have been giving what my editor-in-chief said some thought."

Niyi gasped. "Are you kidding me?"

The window rattled and I went to close it, I looked over my shoulder to respond. "It is not like I want the money, but Orisajana is a politician. If his reputation takes a hit, with the right public relation stunts and a year or two, he will bounce right back...and I will be left without a job."

A strong breeze blew the window wide open and the curtain into my face. I brushed it away furiously, almost tearing it from the railing, and turned my back on Niyi.

He turned me around and eyed me suspiciously. A nerve in his jaw ticked. "Kini curtain mi gba lowo re? What did my curtain do to you?"

My hands rested on my hips sharply and I scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

His eyes narrowed and flashed with annoyance. "Teniola, your mood changed and you suddenly got agitated, after you said you have been giving what your editor-in-chief said some thought." He started pacing like he was cross examining a witness in court. "You turned your back on me and you ran your hand over your face and sighed twice."

"Niyi, are —"

He put both hands on my shoulders and gripped gently but firmly. "Stop. Just stop. You can not lie to me."

"Niyi, I can—"

He held a hand up and I fell silent. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

"You have already done what you want to do, and you have the audacity to mention it to me as if you were undecided," Niyi concluded.

Damn. He was good.

"I tried to find dirt on the Orisajanas, but I found nothing," I sobbed. "I could not bring myself to publish false news in my article, so I took an indirect route. Do not worry, it can not be traced to me."

Niyi looked at the ceiling and back at me. His frown deepened and he shook his head. Another emotion which I had not seen in his eyes previously, threatened to rise to the surface. He was not just angry, he was disappointed. Even if I did not acknowledge it at the time, I felt more crushed by his dismay than his vexation.

"Your father, may his soul rest in peace, stood for justice and integrity. You on the other hand, are a co-conspirator against a good leader," he said icily.

The ceiling creaked and the door slammed. A tree branch rammed into the window, and the frame dislodged from its hinges. The window smashed into a million pieces.

His head snapped in its direction. "Iru iji wo l'eleyii? What kind of wind is this?" He rushed to sweep the shards of glass, ignoring me while he worked. He had a penchant for the cold shoulder treatment when he was not pleased. I had never heard him shout. Ironically, I would have preferred shouting to silence.

Unfortunately, I was hurt by his disappointment. Too heartbroken to concentrate on my surroundings, or anyone else. I was focused on my pain and nothing else. I closed my eyes, and felt my throat tighten. I tried to be rational, attempted to count to twenty before responding. 

Another window rattled furiously on its hinges, threatening to meet with the same fate as the other. It was not raining. The sky was a cloudless, smoky deep blue signalling the early evening. The haze of the harmattan prevented more clarity. Yet, the intense winds slammed doors and broke windows. The creaking of the ceiling and floorboards increased.

I burned with indignation. "That was a low blow, Niyi. What I did was wrong. Fine. That doesn't justify you comparing me to my father. You know that is a sensitive topic for me." I crossed my arms and huffed. "By the way, didn't you say that Rotimi is a bad man?"

He dumped the shards of glass in the bin, and rose to his feet slowly. Niyi did not even bother turning around to look at me. "Rotimi is not a perfect man, but he is a great leader."

"But—"

"Listen to me, Teniola. How will Nigeria progress with youths who will sacrifice their conscience? Kennedy Olajide is a close personal friend of Jax Becker and Rowan Neil. They have been business partners since their days at Oxford."

"So? He is best friends with a foreign automobile guru and a billionaire. They are all rich, arrogant, and Oxford alumni. Three jolly friends. What is the big deal?" I shrugged.

For the first time since I met him, Niyi shouted. He turned to me with eyes blazing with anger. "The big deal is that they are his chief financiers and also arms dealers. Do you think they will be interested in peace in our country, or any other part of the world?"

Silence. Cold as ice, heavier than iron fell upon the room. 

"I, um—"

"What exactly did you do, Teniola?"

I hung my head in shame. Waves of regret washed over me. "I told Monica Maxi Media that the Orisajanas fled from the United States before they could be arrested for unspecified crimes."

"You. Did. What?" Niyi roared.

I took a step back and tumbled over the single seater. I fell on the floor with a dull thud, and rubbed my sore behind. "I told her to not reveal my identity, and I did not give details. It will probably all fly under the radar. After all, the info was speculative."

Niyi chuckled darkly. "You told a blogger something and you think she will not add salt and pepper to it? How do you think her trifling butt gets views?"

"Maybe, I—"

He raised one finger and closed his eyes. He shook his head and walked to his table. When he had a seat and started typing on his laptop, a shiver crawled up my spine. A sense of foreboding I could not explain filled my mind.

Niyi turned his laptop towards me, and I moved closer in order to get a better look. "Teniola, so ti ri?" Teniola, can you see?"

My mouth fell open in shock, and I unconsciously put a hand over my lips. I would not have been surprised by a little embellishment of the 'truth', but what Monica Maxi Media put front and centre on her blog was horrifying. The screaming headline made my heart beat erratically in my chest. There was a popular saying, 'Never say never'. Terms and conditions most certainly applied. 

"Oh my goodness. How would Rotimi Orisajana recover from this?" I whispered. My hands shook when I clicked on another tab in Niyi's browser and saw that #RestinpeaceRotimi was trending on Nigerian twitter. So far, over fifty thousand tweets had been shared on the topic. #CanceltheOrisajanas was also trending. Some comedians had already started sharing political satire videos.

I froze.

"What is that smell?" Sniffing and looking all around me, I wondered where the odour could be coming from.

"I can smell it too," Niyi said. He got up sharply and left the room. I was close behind him as he walked down the corridor sniffing.

"Something is burning. Teniola, didn't you switch off the stove after you prepared the pounded yam and melon seed soup?"

We both ran into the kitchen. It was spotless. My mum instilled in me the habit of cleaning up immediately after cooking. Suddenly, I had a pang of longing for her. I missed her more than ever, felt helpless and not so grown up after all.

After running helter skelter all around the house, the smell of smoke got stronger, but we could not locate the fire. We tried opening the doors and windows, but all of them sealed shut. Niyi, who was in very good shape and considerably strong, tried to kick the doors down, but all attempts to escape failed. 

While we were standing in the hallway, we started to hear the gentle beats of a talking drum. 

Tears fell from my eyes as I trembled. I clutched onto Niyi's chest and wept. "I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I deserve to die, you do not."

He put his arms around me and stroked my hair. "Teniola, fara bale. Eni ko ni ojo iku wa, sugbon ti a ba ku, a ma tun pade. Teniola, calm down. Today is not the day of our deaths, but if we die we will meet again."

The beats of the talking drum became louder and more frantic. Niyi kept his arms around me and kept whispering comforting words into my ear. "Ma sun ekun. Iran akoni la ti wa. Do not cry. We are descended from brave warriors."

We heard the sound of footsteps. Slowly, the steps crept towards us. The closer they got, the louder the sound of the drum became.

Suddenly a voice like the rumbling of a raging storm boomed. "Jagunlabi ti de. Iku l'ere ese! Jagunlabi has arrived. The wages of sin is death."

I tried to scream, but my voice made no sound. There was a power outage and we were thrown into darkness.