My name is Jones. In secondary School, I earned myself a name. Among cultists, I was known as "the Cockroach". It was a reference to how difficult it was to kill me. Like a cockroach, I simply refused to die. I left secondary School with excellent grades. This was due to the effects of the changes in my body. I got into the university and hoped with all my heart that I would start and finish without meeting any cultists. That was just Wishful thinking.
Induction week had just ended and I was walking home alone. The road inside campus was dusty, and the wind lifted little dust clouds as I walked. I was the type to walk alone. Liverpool fans cannot relate. It was the same in secondary school. Most of my life, I had been alone. And when I wasn't alone, I still felt alone. A group of people began to follow me, but I didn't walk faster, I was calm. There were two possibilities; it was either they didn't know who I was or they knew exactly who I was.
I walked all the way to the two storey building that served as my hostel. My room was on the bottom floor. There were guys playing street soccer just outside the hostel and due to their undeveloped skills, the windows on the ground floor had been broken so many times, they changed them into metal ones. The guys following me didn't bother overtaking. Meanwhile, those playing football stopped when they saw the group behind me. Their eyes looked at the group, and then at me. Their faces asked a question, " don't you know you're being followed?"
The cool air seemed to gain momentum as I approached my hostel. It was as though the wind was trying to tell me something. Unfortunately, I don't speak wind. I opened a wooden door and stepped into my room. It had three bunks, making six beds in total, each with a wardrobe. My five roommates were at a fresher's program organized by the students union government. It was a party, but I wasn't into parties.
It was past 6 in the evening. I noticed a cockroach run to hide in the darkness under my bed. I didn't chase it, because I had no hatred for cockroaches. They were survivors and so was I. A cool breeze blew into my room as the group walked in. They were dressed in Jeans, sneakers and round necks. They were all expensive looking, but there was no color code. One of them recognized me. He was calm, dark skinned, tall, slim, and he had an authoritative aura. He sat on the bed opposite mine and He spoke;
"Cockroach, welcome to the university".
I didn't recognize him, the same way I barely recognized any of my seniors. I didn't roll with them. The ones I could easily remember, were the ones who beat me up. He called me cockroach, so he wasn't a fresher. He was definitely one of my seniors from secondary School. Or he knew one of them and learnt about me. He realized I was puzzled, so He spoke again;
"You probably don't remember me"
I stared at his face with a blank expression before I replied.
"I don't"
He smiled, it was the kind of smile that only uses half the mouth. He decided to explain how he knew me;
"I was in SS3 when you were shot"
I didn't know what to say, so I simply nodded. So now I'm sure he was my senior in secondary School, but how come he never hit me before? Was he the leader? Was it an insult to call him to beat up a junior? I didn't really care to know. As I contemplated, he spoke again.
"Join us. We will watch your back, keep you out of trouble, get you the finest women and money will not be a problem."
I liked women, especially the ones older than me. They had mature bodies. Compared to them, the ones my age were like children. Being interested in them Romantically would feel like child abuse to me. I also liked money, in fact, I needed it. I had dreams to run big businesses, but I needed to start from somewhere. I liked peace, after all, if I had no money, but I had peace, I was satisfied. I wanted these three things; money, peace, and women, but I didn't want to join him. So I spoke up;
"I appreciate the offer, but I'm good".
He didn't react. He probably expected my response, so he signalled to the five men in the room and they walked out in a single file. He looked at me and spoke once again;
"If you ever change your mind, come to the Faculty of Engineering, and ask for the one named "Panda" . Take care. "
He walked out, and that was when I remembered. There was a famous person called Panda back in secondary School, but I never got to meet him. Until now.
Two months passed quickly and I joined a fellowship on campus. I was active, and I found out that the sisters in the fellowship were rather ungodly. They didn't hide their desire for me. They would stare at me like wolves on the hunt. They would offer to buy me things. Sometimes I accepted, sometimes I declined. One lady was so determined, she wrote me love letters till I got sick of it. I literally told her to stop, but rather than give up, she started bringing me food. I would collect it, and my room mates would devour it.
She would see me the next day and ask if I liked her cooking. I would tell her ,"Yes". It made my roommates happy, that was enough for me. She was actually my type. She had nice hips, thick in the right places, not too big, not too small, just how I liked it. Yes, I Iiked women, but I loved God. When she noticed that I didn't want a girlfriend, she finally gave up. Most of them from the fellowship also gave up. Now they just want to be friends.
As I walked home one evening after church service, three guys walked up to me. They looked rough, their eyes were red. They were covered in the smell of cigarettes and other odours I couldn't identify. Their hairs were in dreads and each one had a patch of color in his hair. One had yellow, the other two had red. So let's call them "yellow and the two reds".
Yellow had a mark on the face. It was like it had been cut open by a knife and had been stitched. It was almost the length of his eye brow, so it looked like he had two eye brows above his right eye. The reds had hands covered in scars. The scars were of different shapes and sizes, It seemed they came from fights. The red to the right had one eye covered. So let's call him "one eye". Now we have "yellow, red, and one eye". They were in black singlets, wore crazy jeans and were sagging.
They spoke in pidgin as they asked me to give them everything I had on me. One eye spoke first. His voice was deep and croaky, as though he had been shouting for many days without rest.
"Find something for boys"
His attitude annoyed me. Besides, I didn't have anything on me, no cash. My wallet only had my identity card and my ATM card. I dropped all my cash at the church. I tried to explain that fact to them as calmly as possible, hiding my annoyance. My voice was like that of a child, begging for mercy.
"Abeg, I no get anything for hand. Shingbain no dey. Everything just dry"
Yellow looked at me from head to toe. He noticed I was well dressed, so he decided to embarrass me. When Yellow spoke, his voice was even deeper and stronger than one eye's.
"You go commot your shirt, your shoe, and your wallet. You go submit them. In fact, nah only boxer I want see for your body. You think say you be fine boy? Next time, you go carry money come outside".
I had taken enough of the trash they were spewing out. First you stop me while I'm going home, you smell terrible, then you ask for money, now you want my clothes. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. I wasn't going to beg anymore. My face went into a frown. I looked yellow straight in the eyes as I spoke calmly, but with fierceness.
"I will do no such thing"
Red gave me a dirty slap. It sounded as though a balloon had popped. It almost shifted me backwards. It almost adjusted my vision. My hearing was almost altered. Why do I say "almost"? It's because I was impressed. I almost clapped for the guy. After getting slapped by my mother on countless occasions after the changes in my body, the muscles in my cheeks and the ones in the side of my head had become strong. Stronger than the average person.
Each time I took damage, even if it was just a little pain, I would heal and become stronger. So I was impressed his slap had any impact at all. Most slaps at this point would only make a sound, but they could not move me. My ability to withstand his slap was not the only shock he got from slapping me. There was something scary he discovered. For a few seconds, he was surprised as to how I wasn't recalibrated by the slap, but his attention was drawn to a horror. The arm he used to strike me, suddenly began to shake as small lines began to appear. Yellow and one eye watched in shock. They could not understand what was happening.
Slowly, but clearly, the lines opened up and became wounds. It was as though his skin was tearing itself open, and blood began to stream from his hand. He was first frozen in terror. Yellow and one eye took a few steps back. Red finally began to scream in pain as more lines appeared and began to open as wounds. In pain, red took the scarf around his neck, and wrapped his arm with it. Within seconds, it was soaked in blood. The other two began to shout for help. I simply walked away as though nothing happened. You might be wondering what just happened. Overtime, I found out I could not only heal myself, but if attacked, I could "un-heal" my attacker.