THE ILLUSION OF PERFECTION 12

The van lurched forward, Tayo's head slammed against the cold, corrugated metal side. The impact sent a fresh spike of nausea through his already spinning head. 

He was crammed tight; his designers suit a mockery of luxury pressed against the rough clothes of the men who had been fighting—the area boys he’d dismissed as insignificant and had so desperately tried to avoid. Their earlier aggression had dissolved into a sullen, simmering silence, punctuated only by heavy breathing and occasional low curses.

The cold, grimy reality of the police van felt like a cruel unfunny joke. The thick stench of unwashed bodies, stale sweat, a hint of fear, and the metallic tang of something he could not place its source.

Tayo fought the urge to gag, the dryness in his throat intensifying his panic. The handcuffs were viciously tight, the cold steel biting into his wrists, branding him with a physical humiliation he had never imagined even in his dreams.

How could this be happening? It was as if the universe had handpicked him for punishment. All of this because of a simple dead phone battery? He racked his brain, frantically searching for answers, for the moment he could have steered away from this catastrophe, but nothing made sense. 

Tayo closed his eyes, conjuring and grasping onto memories from hours earlier: the successful penthouse shoot, models lounging in bikinis, eager to please for a few crisp bills. His lifestyle, though draining him slowly, still carried the promise of being lucrative. For that singular reason, he was determined make it in this life. 

The memories stirred a sudden intrinsic,  burning urge and his mind screamed for his phone. That device had cost his father’s plot of land in the village—his only inheritance. It wasn't just a phone; it was his entire existence. Every contact, every password, every bank app, every social media account that validated his fame and status was locked inside. Without it, he was just... Tayo. 

And tonight, by a stroke of bad luck, he was Tayo the suspect, headed toward an unknown fate.

He wondered who would be the first to realize he had gone missing. "Certainly not mother." She only called twice in a year— at Christmas and on her birthday. He had made peace with that reality a long time ago.

A new thought slipped into his wandering mind; will Nadia go looking for me?  That thought twisted into sadness as he recalled he never got the chance to cancel their plans. Sighing internally, Tayo suddenly realized he had nobody, no family. 

Someone will soon notice my absence—Deji! Of course. How could he have forgotten? His guy would definitely tear the city apart to find him. With that thought, hope flickered inside Tayo, sharp, fragile but alive. 

He subtly shifted, trying to put some distance between himself and the man pressed against his side, a hulking figure with a scarred face.

"Don't move," the man growled in broken English, his voice low and gravelly. "You think you're better than us, abi? Look at you now. Fine suit and all. We go enter same cage." 

Tayo flinched at the comparison but kept his mouth shut. 

Just then the van came to a screeching halt. The doors were flung open, followed by the loud voices of the police officers.

"Out! Everybody out! Face the wall!"

CONTINUE