He Got Me Pregnant, Then Called Me a Fool

Genre: Nigerian Dark Fantasy
Content Warning: This is a work of fiction. Depicts violence. All characters are 18+.

 

Intro:

Rita gave him her innocence. He gave her a pregnancy and a lesson she never asked for. Her mother gave him something far worse.

Some men will promise you the world. They will swear on their family, their future, their very soul. And the moment they get what they want, they will look you in the eye and call you a fool for believing them. This is the story of one girl who learned that lesson too late — and a mother who decided the devil himself would have to answer for it.

Nobody goes to the Black Street District for good reasons. You go there when every other door has closed. When shame is louder than fear. When love has already cost you everything and you are willing to pay whatever is left. Mrs. Alison knew all of this. She went anyway.

The Weight of a Confession

The man removed the glasses from his eyes, not sure he was hearing what his daughter was telling him. He couldn't understand it. Tears spilled from her eyes like a stream, her hands clasped together and sometimes squeezing the hem of her dress. Her eyes were puffy, drool dripping from her nose, lips trembling, face red. He shook his head to clear it and bit down on the hard retort he had on his lips. Instead he asked, "I don't understand what you are saying. Please, Rita, can you say that again?"

Rita couldn't believe what was happening. She had let her parents down, and it hurt her more than the betrayal she had faced that morning from her boyfriend. She had met him that morning after seeing the sign, and she had thought he loved her. He had promised to marry her and swore the day she gave him her innocence that he was even ready to disown his family and sell everything for her sake. He had promised to give her the world, and when she had asked where those who already occupied the world would live, he had scratched his head, grinning like a fool — and she had fallen for him. She had believed him. Now the consequences of her actions were here with her, while Brian laughed at her as another girl sat on his lap.

What Brian Said

She remembered it all. "I have something important to tell you," she had told him as he sat there without even looking at her.

"Then start talking," he said, putting a toothpick in his mouth and flicking out whatever had stuck between his teeth.

"Can we go inside? It is important," she said again.

"If you're not ready to talk, then leave. What is so important that you're asking me to stand up? Don't make me angry," he said, after swirling a glass of water in his mouth and spitting.

"It is a matter of life, and I don't want people to hear it," she said.

"Then you're wasting your time. Say it now. As you can see, I'm busy."

She was taken aback. Brian, sitting there doing nothing, said he was busy. This was not the Brian she knew. This was not the man who claimed to love her and promised her the world. Tears started falling as she came to her senses. His attitude and the words coming from his mouth told her everything — she had been used. But she fought that spirit of truth and said, after taking a deep breath, "I'm pregnant, Brian. And you're responsible."

He paused from picking at his teeth and sighed with a detachment she never expected to hit her so physically. What came out of his mouth was worse: "You're pregnant, so? Are you the first person to get pregnant? Please go and look for your baby daddy and let me be. I'm busy. Leave."

She cried then and there. She tried to drag him by his trousers, but he pushed her away. "Brian, you swore you loved me. You promised to give me the world," she said, sitting on the ground, too weak to stand.

"You're a fool," he said, grabbing his own ear and gesturing for her to listen. "A man will say anything and do anything just to score a goal. Once he has had his fill, he walks out. Take it as a life lesson — so the next one to come will not make you let the next man use you the same way. Now get up and get out of my sight."

The Confession at Home

She had gone home angry, used, and rejected. She had thought about harming herself but didn't have the will. Now she knelt in front of her parents.

"Say it again," her father asked.

"I'm pregnant," she said, still crying. "I'm so sorry, Father, Mother. I let you down."

Silence fell as the man looked at his wife. He didn't know what to say. He thought the gods were paying him back for what he had done in his own youth — he had gotten his wife pregnant while they were dating and had been forced to marry her. Mr. Orlando was a man in his mid-fifties, a civil servant with a government agency, tall and handsome, with broad shoulders and an air of confidence. But at that moment, he had no words.

His wife, Alison, was another matter entirely. A hard woman who had instilled strict discipline in her children, this moment made her look like a failure — and he could see it in her eyes. He cleared his throat and looked at his daughter. Rita, at twenty, was brilliant with a promising future as a medical student. And now this. No, he said inwardly.

"Who is responsible?" he asked.

"A guy named Brian," she said, coming to terms with her situation.

"And what did he say when you told him you were pregnant?"

"I told him I was pregnant.

He laughed.

Then he called me a fool.

For a second, I thought he was joking.

But he wasn’t.

And just like that, I felt stupid for ever believing he cared.

"He rejected it.

He kicked me out.

He said I’m a fool… and I should learn from my mistake."

At this, the mother could no longer hold it in.

She wailed, "No… no, not my daughter!"

"He will pay—he can't insult me!"

She shot to her feet, her hands trembling, her voice breaking.

Her husband grabbed her arm.

"Calm down."

 He said. "This is not the end."

"I will not calm down!" she roared, spittle flying. "He will pay!" And with that, she pushed her husband aside and left the room.

The Black Street District

Her husband searched the house for her but she was nowhere to be found. He tried reaching her by phone, but it was not going through. "What is wrong with this woman? I hope she will not do something stupid," he said, lying on the bed and waiting for her.

Mrs. Alison could not bear the shame. She remembered her own youth and her own unwanted pregnancy — the stigma, the depression that followed. She could not face that again, and she would not let her daughter face it either. Everyone knew how strict she was with her children. "No, just no. This can't happen. I need a solution," she muttered as she walked down the street toward the cab stand.

One thing was clear in her mind: that fool would pay. How dare he think he could play her child? How dare he think he could damage her daughter's life — a promising medical doctor? She reached the cab stand and hailed a cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked, stopping. He could feel the heat of the woman's anger. His father had warned him about passengers like this. A happy customer brings you more bucks and a happy tip, but an angry one brings plenty trouble.

"Just drive," she said, glaring at him.

"Ma'am, you need to tell me where you're going."

"I said just drive. Are you deaf? How dare you question me?"

"Is it a crime to ask where you're going? I can't drive blindly — gas is costly these days."

She glared at him for a while, eyes shooting daggers, then finally said, "Drive to the Black Street District."

He froze. He had heard of that area. It was one of the places his old man had told him never to visit. That area is a place you go into intact and leave with part of your body or soul missing. Just stay clear of it.

And now this woman was asking him to go there. He debated kicking her out. But another voice said, You can cash out on this. This is an opportunity. It came down to choosing between money or wisdom, and money won.

"That'll cost you about $2,000," he said, starting the car.

"I'll pay you $3,000 if you get there before 9 PM," she said.

"Deal," he said, putting the cab in motion.

Buy One, Get Two for Free

The ride went smoothly, both of them silent, each lost in thought. It was about two hours' drive to the Black Street District — an area set on the outskirts of town, nestled in a pass between two mountains. People said the place was like another universe. Once you entered that district, you felt like eyes were watching you, and sometimes you walked into invisible walls — spirits roaming freely in the land.

The driver, Eliot, was hoping for quick cash. Just drive in and out with nothing to distract him. There's a first time for everything, he told himself, and after that, it's called experience.

Mrs. Alison had heard plenty about the Black Street District from a friend who had visited to solve a problem of her own. The friend had been barren for twenty years. After a visit and a ritual, she was pregnant within two months and delivered triplets.

What Mrs. Alison didn't know was that of those triplets, one was a real baby and the other two were spirits. At a certain age, they would begin tormenting their mother and bringing more trouble than the barrenness had ever brought. The motto of the Black Street District had always been simple: buy one, get two for free.

A Road With No Landmarks

The journey was not memorable. No good landmarks, just stony hills and a sky that showed only a darker void. At a certain point on the road, they passed between two white transparent curtains, and each time they did, they felt something like a cold hand caressing them — not in a pleasant way, but in a way that froze their blood and made them see things they never would on a normal day.

Eliot began to think twice about his life, and not about the money anymore. He wondered if going against his old man's wisdom was finally catching up with him.

She Could Feel the Power

Mrs. Alison, on the other hand, nodded her head. She could feel the change in the atmosphere and muttered, "This is the right place. I can feel the power. That fool will never see what hit him."

It was a sombre mood for both of them as they approached the entrance to the Black Street District — each carrying a different kind of hope. The two mountains on either side of the entrance were imposing. You couldn't see their tops, and a red cloud hung above them with twenty-four bats perched on either side.

The Man at the Gate

They were stopped at the entrance by a man wearing a black robe with a hood. Only his mouth was visible, and his teeth were all sharp and pointed like vampire fangs.

"Payment before entrance," he said, in a voice that sounded like two pieces of glass scraping against each other.

"What is the payment?" Mrs. Alison asked, opening her bag.

"First time here?" the hooded man asked, with a smile that showed all his teeth.

Eliot swallowed hard. This was not what he had signed up for. His old man was right, he thought — but he couldn't turn back now. He had already come this far and he needed that cash. He tried to extract himself by saying, "I think here is far enough for me to stop."

No Going Back

The hooded man's head snapped toward him, and Eliot could have sworn he saw the man's throat bulge. He quickly averted his eyes.

"There is no going back now," the hooded man said. "You are here. You have passed the two mirrors along the road."

"Mirrors?" Eliot asked, looking back.

"What looked like white curtains on the road."

Eliot remembered exactly what he had felt passing through them — the hair on the back of his hand had stood up and his blood had frozen in his veins.

"Yes, that answers your question. Now — payment."

"What is the payment?"

"Since it is both your first time, blood will suffice. A little from each of you."

The Demanding Passenger

"Stop wasting time, Mr. Cab driver, and do as he says," Mrs. Alison said, glaring at Eliot. How could he be wasting time when the solution to her problem was just a few streets away? She frowned as the idiot stared at her with his mouth open like a fish out of the river. She had to snap her hand in front of his face to wake him from whatever place he had been. "Be fast with it."

The Reluctant Driver

Eliot couldn't believe his eyes. He thought what he was hearing must be a joke. How could this woman ask him to do this when he was not even part of anything that brought her here? He was only a driver.

"Ma'am, what has this got to do with me?" he asked her. "I'm just a cab driver."

"You're here, and the only thing stopping us from proceeding is your stubbornness," she said angrily. "Cut it off and give him your damn blood."

"I only agreed to drive you here, and not be part of your ritual."

The Hooded Figure

The hooded man who had been impatiently waiting for them had had enough. He growled, drawing their attention to him. "You both have one minute to comply, or I will take drastic measures and it won't end well," he said, baring his sharp teeth and taking a menacing step slowly toward them.

He could see the frightened look on the man's face, and that spurred him more. He could feel the fear fueling his desire to drink their blood. He looked at the woman, who stood her ground with determination. He paused on reaching her, watching as she extended her hand toward him. He nodded his head and opened his mouth as two fangs protruded from his upper teeth. He punched a hole and started drinking.

The Blood Ritual

When he was done, he raised his head up, and his hood fell. Mrs. Alison, who had been standing her ground, took a weak step backwards. He had no eyes—just red balls in his eye sockets. The hooded man opened his mouth and roared a blood-chilling sound. They watched as her blood spilled out of his mouth and spiraled toward the red cloud at the top of the mountain.

The Escape

"Ma'am, this is where I leave you," Eliot said. After giving his blood with no more argument—after seeing what the hooded man had done—Eliot knew it was either he gave willingly, or he would not be leaving there alive. And so he had given his blood, and the hooded man had done the same thing with it, but he had been grinning after that. Only one word came out of his mouth: "Coincidence."

"What do you mean leaving?" Mrs. Alison asked him. "You will have to take me back."

"I'm done. Because of $3000 my blood was taken. No, I'm leaving now."

"Fine," she said, opening her bag and counting out the bills. "You can go, and the hell with you," she said, slamming the door.

The Strange Drive Home

Eliot never cared. He was happy to be free from her and that cursed place. How could they take his blood? He floored the accelerator, and when he passed through the white curtains again, he now knew it was a mirror.

The engine didn't sound the same after the mirrors. It sounded like a heartbeat—erratic, heavy, and wet. Eliot gripped the steering wheel, but the leather felt like cold skin. He had his $3,000, but as he looked at the cash in the dim light of the dashboard, the ink seemed to bleed like fresh blood.

The $3000 Fare

The driver couldn't help but wonder if he had gotten more than he bargained for. Will this $3000 solve my problem, or will it add more trouble? He knew he should have listened to his old man's wisdom. They say the old advise from experience — not just words, but things they have gone through in life.

He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and touched the crisp bills of the three thousand dollars the woman had given him. That was when he saw the ghost in his rear-view mirror.

He slammed the brakes and looked behind him, but he saw no one. When he turned to drive again, he saw words written on his screen in blood-red letters — YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO YOUR OLD MAN. YOU HAVE BOUGHT TWO PROBLEMS.

Stranded Near The Mirror

He tried to start the cab again, but it wouldn't start. He swore under his breath, looking around at the desolate place where he had stopped. He could feel the air getting colder. He had passed the mirror, but since he was still near it, the effect of that area was still haunting him.

He brought out his phone and dialled a towing van.

Mrs. Alison and The Hooded Figure

Mrs. Alison was angry the driver had to bail on her. How would she get a ride back home? she wondered — but first, let her finish her business. She would worry about that later.

She turned to the hooded figure who was watching as the driver and his cab faded into the distance.

"What was that coincidence?" she asked him.

"Oh, you heard me," the hooded figure said, smiling wider. She could see his teeth still gleaming red from their blood.

"When I tasted your blood, I knew why you're here. Your blood revealed your shame and the vengeance you carry. But when I tasted that driver's blood — it seems the one you seek vengeance against is his kin."

"What!" She exclaimed, squeezing her fist until her knuckles turned white. Her face twisted in a grotesque way. Even the hooded figure could feel death roaming about her head. "How dare he insult me. How dare his blood follow me here."

"That is enough," the hooded figure said. "You're here — make use of the best of your anger, but be warned—"

He never completed his warning before she angrily moved on, not bothering to look back. She hurried to a door tagged Quick Solution at the top, knocked once, and entered.

Andrew's Price

The phone on the other end rang, jolting the man sleeping in the back of the van awake. He cursed and swore when he saw it was an unfamiliar number. He checked the time and swore again.

Who could be calling me this late?

It had been a rough week. Business had been slow and his bills were mounting up. He had been hiding from his kids because they'd been asking for a present he promised them but couldn't get now due to lack of cash.

"Andrew Towing Company — it's late, what can we do for you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the voice at the other end said angrily. "I need a towing van now."

"And you are?" Andrew asked.

"Name's Elliot."

Andrew wrote the name down. "And your location?"

"Just a few hours ride from The Black Street District."

"Wait — say that again," Andrew said, sitting up now.

"Black Street District," Elliot repeated.

"Have you passed the mirror?" Andrew asked.

"You know about the damn mirror?" Elliot asked.

"Sure. Have you passed it?"

"Yeah."

"$6000 bucks."

"What! That's ripping me off."

"Then forget it. Call another van," Andrew said, ending the call.

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