Sunday, 1 September 2013


On the 15th May 2007, I had just finished my examinations as a junior student in Thelma International School. I hopped out of class excited when my father’s driver yanked me angrily and stated that we had to get home immediately. That was his usual style so I wasn’t surprised and obeyed willingly.
As soon as we got home, I ran up into my room angrily wondering why I didn’t get the chance to celebrate the end of junior class with my other class-mates. I was still fuming when I heard a gentle knock on the door. It was Uncle Musa, my father’s driver. Before I could utter another word, he pounced on me.
I tried to scream but he held my mouth and promised to kill me if I told anyone about it. The next five (5) minutes took me on a journey of misery that was going to lead to even more problems for my life. Uncle Musa raped me and when he was done, he threw me on the ground like a useless rag and left. We never heard of him or saw him after then.

That night, when my parents returned; I was about to inform them on what had happened to me when a knock was heard at the door. On opening it, a gang of young teenage boys came into the house with guns in their hands. After demanding for all the money my parents had, the oldest looking boy dragged me angrily and threw me on the floor. At that point, my father began to beg them not to do anything to me while my mother was crying hysterically on the ground. Their pleas fell on deaf ears and one by one, each of these rascal teenage boys raped me.
By the time they were done, I was thrown on the floor mercilessly. The last thing I saw was my mother running towards me before I went into a black out.


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