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Writer | Speaker | Creative Voice. I tell stories, make calls & design confidence. @ Yabatech
Tobi, Why?
<p>"Tobi! Tobi!!"</p><p><br/></p><p>The name left my throat like a jagged piece of glass. Why are you like this, Tobi? After everything?</p><p><br/></p><p>I saw a man in a suit, and I saw him as suitable. Someone who could finally shoulder the weight of the bills I’ve been carrying alone. </p><p><br/></p><p>You call me materialistic? Excuse me, Tobi. You had my body, didn’t you? You took the gold and now you act like you don't know the mine?</p><p><br/></p><p>Well, FYI.... For Your Information... I am three weeks pregnant.</p><p><br/></p><p>Don't look at the door. If you don't take responsibility as the father, I will call you out in the streets where your reputation is king. </p><p><br/></p><p>Oh… you want to run? You always run. You own the boardroom but you can't own your own shorts. You walk away from conversations, but you run after everything in a skirt and bone-straight hair.</p><p><br/></p><p>And now, here is the result. The messy, breathing result of your carelessness. If you think you can just fling money at me like a tip to a waiter, I will make you regret the very day our shadows met.</p><p><br/></p><p>I trembled, my eyes brimming with a rage so hot it felt like fever. I turned my back, my shoulders slumped under the weight of a ruined life, and began to walk away into the shadows.</p><p><br/></p><p>A sudden, violent explosion of noise shattered the silence.</p><p><br/></p><p>I didn't keep walking. I stopped, wiped the moisture from my cheeks with a practiced flick of my wrist, and smoothed my skirt. </p><p><br/></p><p>The trembling stopped instantly. I turned back toward the darkness, my face as cold and still as marble.</p><p><br/></p><p>"Brilliant," a voice boomed from the void. "The desperation was... hauntingly real."</p><p><br/></p><p>"Thank you," I replied, my voice now steady and devoid of the fire that had just consumed the room.</p><p><br/></p><p>The lead director scribbled a single word across my headshot: CAST. </p><p><br/></p><p>I walked out of the room and into the Lagos sun. It wasn’t my story, but it was someone’s. I had simply borrowed her blood to paint the scene. </p><p><br/></p><p>I didn't need a Tobi to take responsibility for me; I just needed him to pay for the performance.</p>
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