The warmth the day carried, how smooth the air in my lungs felt, little did I have an idea how
empty the night would feel. Village girl like me, city boy like him, what did I expect? All I knew is that we were friends and I liked him, he made me
happy, he made me smile, he made me jump for joy.
He invited me to his house; his house is up the hill where all city people who come home build their houses. I was elated, my first time going up the hill, I did not think twice before jumping on the offer. When I set foot in his mansion,
something in me felt it was wrong, but my joy subdued that feeling, it was the first time in his house; I was filled with joy, it was the last time joy took me there how stupid I see myself now.
It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon, he was at the
gate waiting for me with all smiles, we exchanged pleasantries and I followed him in, the house seemed empty and when I asked where everyone went he replied ‘everyone went out’. Shouldn’t I
have ran? Shouldn’t I have feigned faint? But no I did not, naïve me I stayed, I ate and I drank. Infact I wined and dined with a replica of the devil,
with no cloths and bare hands.
He then asked me about my big dream, my city dream. I said it was to go to the city and become a great artiste, to draw my dreams and make their realities. I am sure he was laughing hard in his head, I am sure he didn’t mean it when he
said he saw potentials in me, I am sure it was all flattery when he said I had a mind that is far
greater than the village.
He told me he was a collector of the work of art and he had a couple of them in his room, that he also had a lot of drawings, he told me how he loved the look of a pencil on paper, and then asked if I would love to see. Of cause I did want to see, of cause I didn’t know what he had in mind. Judge me not for been too trusting of a mortal, castigate me not for not been able to read between the lines.
I did go with him with the mind of seeing drawings, to see collections; I thought I was
going to see something that would keep my big dream afloat… Immediately we got in he locked the door, he pounced on me, it happened so fast
my clothes were taken off me, my underwear torn to expose the bushy unharnessed innocence of mine, I didn’t understand, I couldn’t process it, I was confused, I screamed, I yelled, I cried. I think no one heard, because before I knew what happened I was defiled, the veil that held the sacred below was torn *smiles*.
My mother had always told me how all the girls in our village should be married as virgins, now mine would be a different story. I have failed my mother, I have failed my village, and I have failed myself. I was bruised, I bled, but never did I tell anyone my little dark secret. How could I, what would I have said? And afterwards, he topped the cake with an icing, he gave me #500. Imagine so
my virginity had a price? How priceless.
Months later the whole village knew what they believed to be my story, they threw stones at me, they cursed me, they called me names, and they refused to hear my side of the story. They called the bump on my belly an abomination. Mothers told their daughters not to talk to me anymore.
Fathers kept their sons away from me and him; the father, he denied me.
My mother has cried her eyes and heart out, she asked God why she was so unfortunate to have given birth to me, my father doesn’t talk to me anymore. Let us just say I am a walking ghost.
Imagine me serving punishment for a sin I was
forced to commit, welcome to my society where the victim becomes the villain, welcome to my society where my real story will never be told,
welcome to my society where I shall be stigmatized for the rest of my life.
Everyone gave up on me, sometimes it felt like the warm air that used to flow in my lungs didn’t want to fill me anymore, my own saliva seem to dry too quickly, my eyes refused to produce tears.
Nowadays no matter how hard I try, my drawings come out without a face *smiles*. Welcome to the faceless world of a molested youth, every day
I drown deeper but then I fight harder.
