The day had finally come. A day everyone goes through at some point in their lives. Some see it as a painful separation from family; others see it as a chance to spread their wings—to escape their parents' grasp.
For me? It was my way out of this godforsaken house.
You might ask why.
In a typical Nigerian household, a family of six—two parents, four children, three boys, and one girl—wouldn't be unusual. But today, something major was happening in this particular home.
Inside a cramped living room, chairs were arranged in an L-shape, barely leaving space to move around. Seated on the main chair was an elderly, bald-headed man—Mr. Ademola—his sharp features hardened by years of authority. Beside him, a plump woman with tired eyes and a permanently twisted mouth sat stiffly—Mrs. Ademola, or Mama Olamide as her friends called her.
To the side, a short young man with a W-shaped hairline, the spitting image of Mr. Ademola, sat lazily in another chair. This was Olamide, the firstborn. Next to him sat a boy and a girl, Seun and Bukayo, both wearing identical expressions of disdain.
A family of six—united by blood, divided by hate.
And who was the cause of this gathering?
Kneeling on the hard floor, head bowed, was a caramel-skinned youth with a low taper fade. Unlike the others, he bore no resemblance to them. He was the fourth child, yet an outsider in his own home.
His name? Titilayo. Or, as they preferred to call him—Titi.
The tension in the room was suffocating. Mr. Ademola's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Titi, as you dey go school, I no wan hear anything wey go bring shame to this family. If I hear nonsense, I swear on my name—I go disown you! You hear me?"
Titi nodded stiffly. He had heard this before. A thousand times.
Mr. Ademola opened his mouth to continue, but Mama Olamide beat him to it.
"You this child of Satan, better no go disgrace me and my God! If you try am, I go swear for you!"
Olamide scoffed from his chair. "Mommy is right. We all know what you're capable of. I just hope you won't go and join those ritualists, killing anyhow for money."
Seun and Bukayo nodded in agreement, their faces twisted with disgust.
Titi glared at Olamide, his fists clenching at his sides. 'This bastard…'
Before he could react, a sharp slap landed across his face.
PAH!
Mrs. Ademola was on her feet, her face contorted with rage.
"Omo ale! Se o fe pa Omo mi?" (Bastard! Do you want to kill my son?)
The other siblings quickly held her back as she lunged at him again.
"What did Olamide say that was wrong, ehn? Is it not you that kidnapped and killed our neighbor's dog? Is it not you that goes around killing things up and down? In fact, I believe you can do worse! You don't even need money to start killing people—na your nature!"
Titi touched his stinging cheek but said nothing.
Mrs. Ademola's voice rose again. "Get out of this house! We no need rubbish pikin like you here!"
Titi snapped.
"You only treat me like this because I'm not your child! I'm leaving for university, and instead of sending me off properly, all you do is curse me! None of you even treat me like a human being!"
Before another word left his lips, a second slap landed—this time from Mr. Ademola.
PAH!
Then came another. And another.
Titi barely had time to react as his adoptive father grabbed him roughly, dragging him toward the door.
"You this bastard! After everything I and my wife have done for you, is this how you repay us? GET OUT! And don't ever come back!"
As the slaps rained down on him, Titi lifted his head slightly, catching sight of Olamide, Seun, and Bukayo grinning at his misfortune.
His lips curled into a cold smirk.