Sunday, 24 March 2013


For a few seconds, with the knife still in the air, I began to whisper “I can’t, I’ve never killed anybody before, I don’t know how to”. With those words, the knife dropped from my hand on the floor as I began to sob gently. Even if I killed him, I wasn’t going to succeed in killing the pain he had planted in my soul. An inbuilt pain, which was going to remain with me, unless someone saved me. In tears, I picked up the knife and left the room. I cried until there were no more tears in my tear-gland, I cried till I slept off with dried tear stains on my face. At about past one (1) in the morning, I heard a knock on the door and before I could respond, someone crept into my room. In my sleepy state, I tried to rub my eyes to find out who it was when I noticed that the person began to touch me. Instantly, I knew that Uncle Lugo had come to end the remaining ruins of my life again. I tried to struggle but it was no use, he over-powered me and raped me. This was the tenth (10) time he had raped me in ten weeks since my aunty commenced the job that took her to Abuja every weekend. I kept mute in cold tears as he inflicted me with pains just in a bid to satisfy his own pleasure. When he was done, he left without apology, without a word, he slammed the door and went to his own room.

Two (2) days after, aunty returned from Abuja. I wasn’t excited even though she had bought so many things for me. She tried to act like my mother but the truth was self-evident, she could and would never be my late mother. I watched as she kissed her husband in front of me talking about how much she had missed him, I was disgusted. Not out of jealousy “God forbid” but out of “what kind of wicked life is this?” With that on my mind, I stood up angrily and walked out of the sitting-room. Just as I was about to enter into my room, I noticed a Bible on the table. My first reaction was a hiss but for some reason I couldn’t explain, something moved me to look at the Bible. I picked it up and noticed that it belonged to my late father; apparently, he must have given it to my aunty before he died. Immediately, I began to recall all the times he sat me and my twin sister down and taught us the word of God every morning and night. That was when life was still going great. But now, I definitely couldn’t say the same. Then, daddy would give us assignments to study a verse in the Bible and talk about it. At the thought of how things used to be, I began to shed tears. I had completely strayed from my faith in Christ and the thought of what my late father would think if he knew my reaction to things that involved God, made me cry even more. I felt more miserable than ever. I went into my room, and tried reading the Bible. The first page I open was John 3:16 and it read “For God so loved the world that whosoever believes in him would not perish but have everlasting life”. At that moment I recalled the first time our church pastor preached using this scripture, that was the day I gave my life to Christ. It was over nine (9) years ago but the testimony wasn’t the same now. With the Bible still opened on my bed, I felt a nudge from within telling me to look for my phone which had been switched off since my life switched off. I put it on and was surprised at the millions of text-messages that had been sent by friends and well-wishers. Just then, a call came in. Initially, I wanted to ignore the call but it felt like something was controlling me so I answered the call.

“Hello” I mouthed into the phone. I listened as one of my few friend ranted how she had searched for me, wondering why I hadn’t been coming to school and never stopped dialling my number. After a very long conversation, she invited me for a crusade that was to hold next week. The call ended with a promise from me not to allow for us to lose contact. I dropped the phone and was about to pick the phone when I felt an urge to vomit that was coupled with a nauseous feeling. This went on for several days and thankfully my aunt didn’t noticed. Eventually, I took up the courage to go and see a doctor on my own. And then, my worst fears were confirmed.
“You’re ten (10) weeks pregnant” the doctor confirmed.


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