(US PRISON)
The heavy, metallic clang of the prison gates shutting behind me would forever etch itself into my memory—an indelible reminder of everything I had lost.
The sound was unmistakable: metal scraping against metal. It resonated with a finality that filled the air with an oppressive weight.
Even before stepping inside, I was assaulted by a jumble of scents.
Rust hung thick in the atmosphere, mingling with the acrid odor of sweat. Then there was that unmistakable musk of decay, clinging to the very fabric of the space like an ominous shadow of despair. It infiltrated my lungs, settling in with a heavy grip, leaving me gasping for breath.
This was the stark reality of my existence now.
Fifteen long years stretched ahead of me. Because my crime was commit outside my country Nigeria my sentence was carried out hear.
A guard nudged me forward, barking, "Move!"
As I shuffled along, the chains strapped to my limbs rattled with each hesitant step. Inmates cast furtive glances my way—some with intrigued curiosity, others with a mocking smile, and a few sizing me up, assessing whether I would be easy pickings.
I kept my gaze on the worn concrete floor, not wanting to meet their eyes.
At just twenty-nine, I had made the journey from the plush luxury of five-star hotel rooms to this stark, unforgiving environment of concrete and steel.
I had fallen from a pedestal of power to being reduced to a mere number, a faceless figure among countless others.
They confined me to a cramped cell and slammed the heavy door shut, the echo reverberating down the corridor like a cruel joke meant to mock me.
I slid down the unforgiving wall, settling onto the frigid floor.
Fifteen years fluttered through my mind.
I had always boasted to myself about my resilience, convinced I could withstand any storm. I had believed that I was more astute than the oppressive system, always one step ahead, always having an escape plan.
I now had to confront the hard truth.
Around me, a cacophony of voices intertwined—sharp arguments, bursts of laughter, soft whimpers of despair—but I tuned them all out. My own thoughts played on an endless loop, dragging me down memory lane.
Disposable phones I had cast aside.
Phony smiles that never reached the eyes.
Promises whispered over clinking glasses in dimly lit bars.
And faces, so many faces.
Friends who vowed never to leave my side.
People who shared meals at my lavish dining table.
Brothers who called me "family."
Yet, in my time of dire need, they all vanished into thin air.
In the depths of my mind, my mother's voice emerged, ringing clear as if she were standing beside me in that moment.
"You think you're untouchable. That's exactly how death finds you."
Back then, her warning had made me chuckle.
But now, I couldn't summon even a faint smile.
As night fell, slowly engulfing the cell in darkness, a hush blanketed the space, punctuated only by the distant shuffle of guards and the occasional cough from a lonely soul.
That was when I began to feel it.
A tightness creeping into my chest.
Initially, it was a dull ache, easy to dismiss. It felt like the stress of daily life or a fleeting pang of hunger.
I shifted my weight against the cold wall, attempting to shake it off.
But it only intensified.
Now, it was sharp and unyielding.
It felt like a vice was tightening around my chest, making each breath progressively more laborious than the last.
"No…" I whispered, desperation creeping into my voice.
I attempted to rise, but my legs betrayed me, buckling under the weight of my despair. I crumpled to the unforgiving concrete floor, pain radiating through every fiber of my being.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound escaped.
My vision began to blur, the ceiling swirling above me like a storm. Each heartbeat seemed to slow, growing heavier, more pronounced.
Was this truly how it would end?
Alone, abandoned, and betrayed.
As darkness consumed my vision, one thought pierced through the haze, louder than the agony consuming me.
If only I could have one more chance…
And then, everything faded to black.
---
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The rhythmic sound snapped me back from the abyss.
I gasped, shooting upright as if I had been jolted from a terrifying dream.
Air rushed into my lungs in an uncontrollable gasp. My heart raced furiously as I scanned my surroundings, completely disoriented and filled with dread.
This wasn't prison.
Looking up, I noticed the ceiling above me was cracked and stained with years of neglect. Water trickled from a small hole overhead, filling a plastic container positioned precariously on the floor beneath it.
The pungent smell of kerosene permeated the air.
I was sprawled on a thin mattress in a claustrophobic, dimly lit room.
My hands—
I stared in disbelief.
There were no scars, no bruises. They appeared stronger, younger—almost like a fleeting glimpse of my past self.
My breath caught in my throat as reality began to sink in.
I stumbled to my feet, my heart racing as I surveyed the room.
On the wall, I noticed a crooked calendar hanging askew.
My eyes froze on it.
2015.
My knees nearly buckled beneath the weight of disbelief.
"No way…" I murmured, a sense of shock washing over me.
This could not be real.
I touched my face, my chest, my arms.
I was alive.
I was young.
I was free.
Memories surged through me like a tidal wave, crashing and colliding with every fiber of my being.
I wasn't dreaming.
I had died.
And against all odds… I was back.
I clenched my fists, a sense of cold calm flooding over me as my heartbeat steadied.
The fear that had previously gripped me vanished into the ether.
The weight of regret burned away like a fleeting ember.
What lingered was something deeper, something darker.
Something with a razor-edge of resolve.
"This time," I whispered to myself, my resolve crystallizing, "I won't trust anyone."
I cast my gaze towards the leaking ceiling, the shabby room, the unsettling reminder of a life I had squandered.
"I refuse to repeat the same mistakes."
Outside, the city buzzed with life, blissfully unaware that a man who had already traversed the realms of life and death had returned.
And this time…
I didn't't come back with a heart.