Ewa ati Kiniun Part I

"After Fall" by Ayo Olamide

Disclaimer: This retelling of Beauty and the Beast is not affiliated with the Walt Disney Company. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ewa grabbed the scissors from her dressing table, her fingers trembling as she hacked away at her thick black hair. The strands tumbled onto the floor, pooling at her bare feet. She wanted to shed more than just her hair. She wanted out of this prison, this gilded cage that had now become her ‘home.’ Two years of torment had turned the walls into shackles, the air into something she could barely breathe. With a sigh, she let the scissors clatter to the floor. How did my perfectly planned life unravel into this nightmare? The question gnawed at her as she reached for the pill bottle and washed down two tablets of Panadol with a gulp of cold water, hoping—praying—that this would dull the ache, if only for a while. 

She missed her father a lot, and with bitter nostalgia, she remembered the last time that she had seen him. She was reading at the university library when one of her coursemates walked in quietly and whispered into her ear that she was needed at the vice chancellor’s office. In that split second, a dozen possibilities raced through her mind. Had she violated a rule? Failed a course? She couldn’t think of a single reason why she would be summoned. 

The walk to the office felt endless, her pulse quickening with every step. When she finally reached the door, she took a deep breath and knocked. The vice chancellor’s face was unreadable as he delivered the news: her father needed her at Kirikiri prison. Kirikiri? The name sent a chill down her spine. Her father—her own father—locked up in Nigeria’s most infamous prison? There had to be a mistake. 

Ewa barely registered the rest of the conversation. Before she knew it, she was wedged into the back of a taxi, squeezed between four other sweating passengers. The air was thick, the ride suffocating, but none of it mattered. She just needed to see him. The taxi driver drove recklessly fast along the busy streets of Lagos, but it still didn’t feel fast enough for Ewa. Finally, the taxi screeched to a halt in front of the police station, and her breath caught in her throat the moment she saw him. Her father sat slumped in a corner, his face swollen, his clothes stained with dry blood. Hot tears streamed down her face. She had never felt so enraged in her life. She would not let whoever did this to her father get away with this. She had to get him out of there as soon as possible, no matter the cost. Between labored breaths, her father managed to tell her what had happened. He had done nothing but lead a peaceful protest, demanding better working conditions, standing with his fellow professors in front of the military governor’s mansion. And for that, they had beaten him like a criminal. 

Was her father mad? 

Everyone knew who Kiniun was in Lagos. The ruthless military governor was known for his iron grip on power. No one dared defy him—not even the most influential people in Lagos. But it was too late—the damage was done. Her father had no money and certainly did not have the right connections to get him out of there. Ewa began to cry again. She begged to see the police officer in charge of the prison. She flung the door open and was surprised to see a woman seated behind the desk. She suddenly felt calmer and felt she could gain the compassion of the police officer. After much sobbing and pleading, Ewa was finally driven to Kiniun’s mansion. 

When Ewa stepped into the compound, the sheer grandeur of the mansion momentarily took her breath away. Marble pillars, sprawling gardens, and expensive cars lined the driveway—it was a display of power, of untouchability. But beneath her awe, her contempt for its owner grew deeper in her chest. She had never met with the great Kiniun but had heard enough about him to know that he was a ‘no-go area.’ The security guard led her into a lavish lounge and told her that there was no guarantee that Kiniun would attend to her. With mild irritation, he added that she was lucky that Oga was even home at the time she came in. 

When the housemaid informed Kinuin that a woman was waiting for him in the lounge downstairs, he was annoyed but curious to see the stranger that had the audacity to come to see him without any notice. With a dismissive wave, he allowed her to be called upstairs. The moment Ewa stepped into the room, he took her in with a single glance—her glistening dark skin, the mustard yellow scarf wrapped around her head. She was striking. Probably no different from the others who had thrown themselves at him before. He pushed the thought aside and let out a snicker. Her audacity was almost laughable. Almost. But he couldn’t deny—he admired it, too. 

Ewa, without noticing his snicker, summoned all her courage and blurted out, “What crime has my father committed?” 

Without turning to look at her, he gestured toward a chair. “Sit.” His tone was impatient. “I don’t have time for small talk. Say what you came to say.” 

Ewa’s hands balled into fists. “You’ve thrown my father into a filthy cell for no reason!” 

Kiniun turned to look at her this time, and she shrank under his stare. 

“Maybe if you loved your father enough, you would have advised him against such foolishness. He’s never leaving that place,” Kinuin declared with a certainty that made Ewa feel nauseous. 

She began to plead for a second chance, and while she ranted, Kinuin eyed her again. He couldn’t help but wonder how such a foolish man could have a daughter so strikingly beautiful. Suddenly, his face brightened up with an idea. His mother had been pestering him for years to bring a wife home. Maybe he could strike a deal with this damsel in distress so that his mom could finally get off his back. She was probably like the rest of them anyway. All they wanted was his money. He had once fallen in love with his local pastor’s daughter back when he was still struggling to make ends meet, but she dumped him, claiming he had “no prospects.” To Kiniun, it confirmed his belief that all women cared about was money. Since then, he had avoided serious commitments, and now, at thirty-five, he was not getting any younger. He snapped out of his thoughts, and to his annoyance, Ewa was still ranting. 

He glared at her, and she stopped talking. 

“The only condition for your father’s release is for you to live here.” 

The words hit Ewa like a slap in the face. 

Her dreams. Her life. Live here with this monster? No way!

But Kiniun had already turned his attention back to the documents on his desk, and Ewa sat in stunned silence. 

“For how long?” She asked, her voice barely a whisper. 

“That’s for me to know,” he replied with irritation. “So, is it a yes?” 

Ewa was willing to do anything to get her father out of that hell hole. She had no other option if she didn’t take this offer. 

“Yes. I’ll stay. Just release my father.” 

Kinuin picked up his phone from his desk and dialed the number of the policewoman in charge of Kirikiri prison. 

 

“Release him now and bring him here,” he barked into the phone. 

Ewa heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe things were going to be okay now. After hours of sitting down in ear-splitting silence, her father finally arrived. Without thinking, she flung herself into his trembling arms.