The Next Morning – Around 7am
(Loud knocking at the gate)
Neighbor: (Knocking)
Grace: Who is that? Who’s knocking like an idiot?
Neighbor: Come out and you will see the idiot.
Grace: (Walking toward the gate angrily) You lack manners oh! (She opens the gate and gasps when she sees Fatimah lying helplessly on the floor.) Ahhh! My Fatimah! What happened to her? What did you do to my child?!
Neighbor: Do you know you are a wicked woman? This child didn’t sleep in your house all night and you weren’t even bothered. She slept outside! I tried to help her stand on her feet, but she couldn’t. That’s when I noticed she is in pain—her clothes stained with blood. I just hope it’s not what I’m thinking. And you call yourself a mother? You are so heartless. If you can’t take care of her, then send her back to her parents!
Grace: (Cuts in, furious) That’s enough, Mr. Man! How dare you talk to me like that? Who are you to challenge me? Do you know who I am?! Do you know who I am?!
Neighbor: (Shouting) Wait a minute! Everybody come and see o—there is someone here who doesn’t even know who she is!
Grace: (Points at him) You must be stupid! (Turns to Fatimah) Ehh, you—stand up for me jor!
Fatimah: (Crying in pain, voice weak) I… can’t… stand up… those men…
Grace: My friend, will you get up and get inside before I slap you!
Fatimah: (Bursts into tears) I can’t… stand up…
Neighbor: Madam, take it easy with this girl now. Don’t you see she is bleeding? Help her get inside!
Grace: (Snaps) Don’t you dare shout at me! Fatimah, get up before I lock you outside!
(Fatimah struggles painfully to her feet, swaying, then stumbles inside. Grace slams the gate in the neighbor’s face.)
Grace: As for you, Mr. Man, don’t you ever in your life insult me again. Get lost!
Neighbor: (Shakes his head with pity) O ma she o… May Allah help this innocent girl. (He walks away.)
---
Inside the House
Grace: Fatimah!!!
Fatimah: (Weak voice) Ma…
Grace: Come here! (Shouts)
Fatimah: (Groaning in pain, dragging her feet) I’m… here, ma…
Grace: Where is my money?!
Fatimah: I… lost it. (Bursts into tears.)
Grace: You what?! You lost my money?!
Fatimah: It was a mistake. When the two men… tried to rape me, that was when I misplaced the money…
Grace: That’s your problem! Shebi it’s not your first time, so why pretending? You even enjoyed it! Anyway, go and take your bath because you’re smelling. Then go and do your house chores.
Fatimah: (Sobbing bitterly) Mummy… I’m weak. I can’t do anything. The pain… it’s too much… please…
Grace: Did I send you to go and have sex? I only sent you to buy Fearless for me! You didn’t come back home. Shebi, you enjoyed it, right? I won’t beat you for that. But what will provoke me now is you refusing to do what I asked you to do!
Fatimah: (She tries to enter the kitchen, her steps weak and shaky. Suddenly, her body gives way and she collapses heavily on the floor, unconscious.)
Grace: (Startled, rushing to her side) Oh! So now you want to pretend, abi? You better get up before I hit you! (She moves closer, bending down to scare her, but Fatimah’s still body does not respond. Panic creeps in. She shakes her violently.) Fat!!! Wake up! (Her voice trembles as she slaps her cheek gently, then harder) Mogbe! Fatimah!! Abdulrahman!!!
Abdulrahman: (Running in, alarmed) Ma!
Grace: Get me some water, please! Hurry up!
Abdulrahman: Okay! (He dashes into the
kitchen, his slippers slapping against the tiles. Moments later he returns, clutching a bowl of water.) Here it is!
Grace: Thank you, dear. (She hastily sprinkles water on Fatimah’s face. When nothing happens, she soaks her handkerchief and wipes Fatimah’s face, wetting her hair until water drips to the floor. Slowly, Fatimah stirs, her eyelids fluttering open. She is pale, weak, and unable to move.)
Grace: (Sighs with relief) Ah! Thank God you’re awake. Abdulrahman, quickly—bring me Golden Morn, sugar, milk, and hot water. Hurry up!
Abdulrahman: (Frowning) But mommy, that’s our food. Why do you want to waste it on her?
Grace: (Snapping) So she won’t die! Your father will kill me if he finds out about this. Hurry up and get it!
Abdulrahman: (Crossing his arms stubbornly) Mummy, me I won’t give her our Golden Morn. It’s better she starves to death.
Grace: (Eyes widening, her tone softening immediately) What? … Okay, I’m sorry, my baby. I promise to get you a bigger one, ehn. Just please, go and bring it.
Abdulrahman: (Suspicious) Are you sure?
Grace: Yes! I promise. Please, hurry!
Abdulrahman: (Reluctantly) Okay, mom. (He runs off and returns moments later with the items.)
Grace: Thank you, son. (She quickly mixes the food into a smooth paste and begins feeding Fatimah spoon by spoon while the girl lies helplessly on the wet floor, her clothes clinging to her body.)
(Two minutes later, Grace carries the frail girl into the bathroom. As she undresses her, her eyes catch sight of the marks—the bruises, the shameful violation carved on her fragile skin. She pauses, her breath hitching, but then hardens her face. Without a word of sympathy, she bathes her roughly, dresses her, and lays her on the bed. Fatimah’s chest rises and falls weakly as she drifts into exhausted sleep.)
The Next Day – Evening
(Sulaiman drives into the street. As he slows down, a strange woman suddenly steps into the road, forcing him to halt abruptly.)
Sulaiman: (Honking angrily) Ahh! What rubbish is this? Why are you standing on the road? Do you want to get hit by a car?!
Strange Lady: (Moving closer to his window, calm but firm) Good afternoon, sir. Sorry for disturbing you.
Sulaiman: Afternoon. Hope there’s no problem?
Strange Lady: Not really. I just want to tell you what I saw yesterday morning. Shebi you have a daughter—or at least a girl that lives with you?
Sulaiman: (Nods) Yes, she’s my daughter.
Strange Lady: I don’t think so. If she was truly your daughter, you would never have left her to sleep outside. Everyone in this neighborhood knows how you and your wife treat that innocent child. Yesterday morning, a man knocked at your gate, but your wife insulted him badly.
Sulaiman: (Shocked) Knocked at our gate? What was the man there for?
Strange Lady: Do you know that your so-called daughter was locked out all night? She slept outside. The man only tried to plead with your wife to let her in, but she cursed him instead. And worse… the child could barely walk. I was watching from my corridor. We all know she’s not your real daughter. Then why not return her to her parents instead of torturing her like this?
Sulaiman: (Jaw drops, frozen with disbelief) My wife… locked her outside? (Whispers to himself, then turns to the woman) Madam, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t aware of this. But I promise—I’ll do something about it. Thank you so much.
Strange Lady: Don’t thank me. Just do something before your wife kills that child. And you too—learn to study your house. A man should know what’s going on under his own roof. (She walks away briskly.)
Sulaiman: (Muttering as he drives off) What a strange woman… didn’t even let me thank her. Grace, you are dead today.
--
Six Minutes Later
(Sulaiman storms into the house, fury written on his face. Grace is in the kitchen, humming softly as she stirs a pot of soup.)
Grace: (Smiling sweetly) Baby, welcome home! (She leans forward to kiss him.)
Sulaiman: (Pulls back sharply) Don’t you dare lay your filthy finger on me!
Grace: (Confused) Baby, what’s wrong? I should be the one upset—you didn’t even call me since morning.
Sulaiman: (Voice rising) Where is Fatimah?!
Grace: (Hesitates, then shrugs) She’s sleeping in her room.
(Sulaiman bolts toward Fatimah’s room. He pushes the door open and finds her lying helplessly on the bed. He touches her arm—and jerks back at the scorching heat of her body.)
Sulaiman: Subhanallah! Fatimah! (He shakes her gently, panicked.) Fatimah, please wake up! (He sprinkles water on her face until her eyes flicker open weakly.) Fatimah mi… Daddy is back. Your body is burning!
Grace: (From the doorway, rolling her eyes) Baby, nothing is wrong with her. She’s just pretending.
Sulaiman: (Whirls around, fury in his eyes) Pretending?! Why did you lock her outside last night?
Grace: (Stammering) N-no… I didn’t… she… she…
Sulaiman: She what?! She what?! (He turns back to Fatimah, who groans in agony, her voice breaking into screams.)
Fatimah: (Terrified, pushing his hands away) Don’t touch me!!! Please!! Don’t touch me!!!
Sulaiman: (Stunned, heartbroken) Fatimah? It’s me… Daddy! What happened to you?!
Fatimah: (Screaming in horror) Don’t touch me! I beg you in the name of God! Don’t touch me!! Don’t rape me!!! Please don’t raped me!!!
Sulaiman: (Freezes, his face drained of color) Don’t… what? (Slowly turns toward Grace, trembling with rage.) What did I just hear from her mouth? Hope it’s not what I’m thinking?!
(Overcome with dread, he turns back to Fatimah. Despite her struggles, he gently pulls at her clothes to examine her. Fatimah fights him in fear, but he overpowers her enough to see—bruises, blood, signs of violent defilement. He gasps, staggers backward, his hands trembling. Tears fill his eyes.)
Sulaiman: (Whispering, broken) Ya Allah… no…
(He straightens, his grief burning into fury. In one swift motion, he slaps Grace across the face with all his strength. The sound echoes through the house like thunder.)
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