The small cloth parcel lay hidden beneath the dried fibres of Osaro's sleeping mat, but the little piece of cloth her mother had sent remained heavy on her mind.
Throughout the hours before dawn, Osaro hardly slept. She lay quietly on the mat, staring into the darkness of her small room while the sounds of crickets and other night insects filled the compound.
She kept thinking about her mother.
Her mother had come.
She had actually stood outside the compound, calling her name, yet Osaro had been too weak to reach her.
The thought brought fresh tears to her eyes.
If only I had been strong enough to crawl to the door.
If only my voice had been loud enough.
If only Amina had allowed her to come inside.
Osaro turned onto her side, wincing as pain travelled through her bruised body.
Talking in whispers would not save her. Sympathy from Oge and the herbs Mama Adanna prepared could ease her pain, but they could not change her situation.
If her mother was ever going to understand what was happening inside the Okhizu compound, Osaro had to find a way to tell her.
She had to write.
As soon as the first light of dawn entered through the small opening in her window, Osaro carefully sat up. She reached behind the wooden headrest and brought out a small piece of brown paper she had secretly kept after one of the market days.
She also brought out a short pencil she had picked up from the compound some days earlier.
Her hands trembled.
Writing a letter was dangerous.
If Mr. Okhizu found out that she had secretly sent a message to her mother, she knew there would be consequences.
But the thought of remaining silent frightened her even more.
Osaro placed the paper on her lap and began to write.
"Mama," she wrote slowly.
Her eyes filled with tears, but she continued.
"If this letter gets to you, please don't believe anyone who tells you that I am fine. I am not fine, Mama.
"They locked the gate against you because they did not want you to see me. I have tried to be strong, but every day here frightens me. I am always afraid of what will happen next.
"I miss home. I miss you. I miss the way you used to call my name every morning.
"Please don't forget me, Mama.
"Find a way to help me."
Osaro stopped writing.
A tear fell onto the paper.
There were many things she wanted to say, but she was afraid that if the letter fell into the wrong hands, it could put her mother in danger too.
She folded the paper carefully and held it tightly for a moment.
Then she heard footsteps.
Osaro quickly pushed the letter beneath her wrapper.
The woven curtain at the entrance moved.
Amina entered.
She looked around before closing the curtain behind her.
"Is it ready?" Amina whispered.
Osaro nodded and brought out the folded paper.
Amina took it and looked at her.
"Osaro, once this leaves your hands, you cannot decide who will see it. If our husband discovers that you sent a secret message, he may become even more violent."
"I know," Osaro replied.
Her voice was quiet, but her determination was clear.
"But if I remain silent, Amina, I may not survive this place. At least if my mother knows the truth, someone will know what happened to me."
Amina stared at the young girl.
She remembered how she had lied to Mrs. Iruson when she came to the compound.
She remembered the woman's worried eyes and the way she had begged to see her daughter.
Amina's heart tightened.
"All right," she whispered. "I will help you."
She tucked the letter carefully inside the fold of her wrapper.
"There is a man from the area near your village who comes here sometimes to buy palm oil. He is leaving this morning. If I can reach him before he leaves, I will ask him to deliver the letter."
Osaro's eyes filled with hope.
"Thank you."
Amina squeezed her hand.
"Don't thank me yet. Just pray that nobody sees me."
Later that morning, Amina walked toward the gate carrying an empty calabash.
She behaved as though she was going to the roadside to buy something.
Osaro watched through the small opening in the kitchen wall.
The gate opened.
Outside, a man stood beside a wooden handcart carrying palm oil containers.
Amina walked toward him and spoke quietly.
After looking around to ensure nobody was watching, she brought the folded letter from beneath her wrapper and handed it to him.
"Please," she whispered, "make sure this reaches the Iruson family. It is important."
The man nodded.
"I will deliver it."
Amina returned quickly.
Osaro watched the man disappear along the dusty road.
For the first time in many days, she felt a small amount of relief.
Her message was gone.
Her mother would know.
She imagined her mother reading the letter beside the fire.
She imagined her mother crying.
She imagined her mother becoming angry enough to confront anyone who stood between her and her daughter.
Mama will come for me, Osaro thought.
She closed her eyes.
Mama will come.
But Osaro did not know that the letter would never reach her mother.
---
By afternoon, the palm-oil merchant arrived at the Iruson compound.
Mr. Iruson was sitting beneath a neem tree, resting after returning from the farm.
The merchant greeted him respectfully.
"Good afternoon, Elder Iruson."
"Good afternoon," Mr. Iruson replied.
The merchant brought out the folded letter.
"A woman from the Okhizu household asked me to deliver this. She said it is from your daughter and that it is meant for Mrs. Iruson."
Mr. Iruson's eyes immediately narrowed.
"For my wife?"
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Iruson stretched out his hand.
"I will give it to her."
The merchant handed it over and continued on his way.
Mr. Iruson looked at the paper.
He recognized the handwriting immediately.
It belonged to Osaro.
He unfolded it.
His eyes moved slowly across the page.
The more he read, the harder his expression became.
She had written that she was not fine.
She had written that she was afraid.
She had written that her body was covered in wounds.
And she had asked her mother to help her.
Mr. Iruson's face hardened.
Instead of feeling concern for his daughter, he felt insulted.
"After everything I have done for this girl," he muttered.
He stood up.
He had convinced himself that marrying Osaro to Mr. Okhizu had secured her future.
He did not want to hear that his decision had destroyed her.
More importantly, he did not want the village to hear it.
If Mrs. Iruson received this letter, she would demand answers.
She might confront Mr. Okhizu.
The matter could reach the elders.
People could begin questioning his decision.
Mr. Iruson could not allow that.
He folded the letter and placed it inside his pocket.
His wife would never see it.
"She wants to turn my household against me," he said bitterly.
He walked into his room and brought out a sheet of paper.
If Osaro wanted to involve people in his family matters, he would make sure she regretted it.
Mr. Iruson wrote a message to Mr. Okhizu.
He told him that Osaro had secretly attempted to contact her mother and complain about matters within her husband's household.
He described Osaro as stubborn and disobedient.
He warned Mr. Okhizu to watch her carefully.
He ended the message with one instruction:
She must be taught obedience.
After sealing the letter, he called a young boy from the village and paid him to deliver it to the Okhizu compound.
---
Two days later, the message reached Mr. Okhizu.
He sat under the shade of the veranda when the messenger handed him the sealed letter.
He opened it and read.
His face remained calm.
He did not shout.
He did not throw the paper down.
Instead, he read it again.
Then he folded it carefully.
"So," he muttered, "the girl has started sending messages."
He slipped the letter into his pocket and stood.
There was something frightening about his calmness.
He walked into the compound without saying another word.
---
Osaro knew nothing about the letter her father had intercepted.
That afternoon, she sat near the kitchen, sorting melon seeds into a small wooden tray.
Her body was still painful, but she was beginning to regain some strength.
She reached beneath her wrapper and touched the little piece of cloth her mother had sent.
The tiny red stitches reminded her of home.
She smiled faintly.
Mama knows now.
She believed that with all her heart.
She imagined her mother's voice.
She imagined her mother's embrace.
For a few moments, the walls of the Okhizu compound seemed less frightening.
Osaro looked toward the sky.
The clouds were slowly moving across the afternoon sun, casting a brief shadow over the compound.
She breathed deeply.
For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to believe that her life could still change.
She did not know what her father had done.
She did not know that the letter meant to bring her mother closer had instead placed another burden on her shoulders.