POSTED 01/29/2017 18:09:57
I sat at one corner of the room, my knees drawn close to my breasts, supported with the clasps of my palms and my back against the wall like a timid prey looking intently at its predator. I was paper white and my eye bags gave away my sore inside; the dark world seemed to be revolving round the complexity of my life, my life, my guilt. They say you never know what it is like till it happens to you and I didn’t just know what it was like, I felt it, it became a fragment of what I knew, it became inside-out.
I just felt his cold arms around me as he said; It will be alright Nkem, give it 2 days and then my eyes traced my blouse down to my skirt and then my legs as I beheld blood marks like a careless painter drawn all over my legs, streams of tears flowed down my cheeks. I was lost in the dysphoria of the moment, my heart beating slower and slower, fading away as my mind played a panoramic flashback.
“Come and sit beside me let me ask you about school” Uncle Emma called at me from the other end of the sitting room where I sat admiring the natural artifacts he hung over the picture of Aunty Rita, his late wife.
“But I can hear you from where I’m sitting uncle” I replied quickly trying to hide my hatred for him.
This was Thursday afternoon and mother had left for mid week service, she was quite religious and always talked about a place she would go to one day. Uncle Emma was my mother’s elder brother, a retired office clerk. He would be in his late 50’s and he had only one child, Richard, who was abroad enjoying the fantasies of the white man with his wife.
Richard had long forgotten he had a father, maybe because of the last brawl he had with Uncle Emma, his inside didn’t do any better by not torturing him. I had been Uncle’s favourite niece since I was born; he had a very passionate love for me, or was it more than passionate? I had to take care of him since he was diagnosed of cancer and his needs were incessant. He didn’t want to employ a maid after he heard of Mr. Raymond’s mishap.
“You’re looking beautiful today and I love your dress, it looks good on you” he said casting glances on my lower side.
“Thank you sir” was my reply as I adjusted the almost body hug dress I wore, stretching it further down.
“Excuse me sir, I want to go inside” I said dropping the ebony magazine I was reading as I served him his favourite Okpa, made of bambara nuts and a dash of pepper as he liked it.
He always said he never liked when I left him alone, that it reminded him of his wife and he would feel bitter having left her in the cold hands of death.
“Mr. Emmanuel!” called a husky voice from behind the door and I immediately recognized it as “Junior’s.”
He was my class teacher last year and he made a great deal from students that year. It was time for me to leave, Uncle Emma had become so engrossed, his Okpa was growing cold and Junior’s talk was becoming more intriguing.
“Junior! What will we get you?” he asked motioning to me to find out what Junior needed.
“Anything Sir, I take anything” he replied.
That wasn’t an answer. Cow dung is anything, what if I served him that? I asked in my mind.
“Ok! Just get me a bottle of malt” as if he read my minds rhetorical question.
I served “Junior” a bottle of chilled malt. “I’m at the balcony sir” I said shuffling my feet into my slippers and narrowing down a short corridor to a poorly lit room unto a balcony that opened up to a grotesque building opposite Uncle Emma’s.
The balcony was very close to the parlour, eavesdropping became inevitable. “She’s quite a beauty” Uncle Emma said clearing his throat after a quick cough. My head expanding on the inside, I chuckled as I looked on at the dark skinned models on the magazine I held.
“No! I’ve been paid my pension for the month! I’ll be leaving the country next month” he said.
Ah! Uncle Emma never told mother he’ll be travelling abroad. The when and the who was known but why and where in particular was what I didn’t know. I got engaged with the children playing in the adjacent compound, I didn’t notice when Junior took his leave as I sat watching them play. I dreamt of having my children one day but they wouldn’t be as disrespectful as Richard.
“Nkem!” Uncle Emma called.
“Yes Sir!” I returned making my way to his room where the picture of his mother, Mama hung on his door.
“Yes Sir” I repeated opening the door.
He sat upright on his bed with droplets of water from his head.
“I just finished having my bath and I need a quick rub of this cream at my back.” This was a favour I did him for the past 2 years.
I picked up the cream, eliminating all possible outcomes and got to work. I rubbed his cream, spreading the white round the expanse of his back. I kept the cream as soon as I was done.
Seconds later, a pair of hairy black hands grabbed my waist and pulled me close, muttering incoherent words in my ear and pulling me close to his groin.
“Sir, please stop!” and before my statement was complete, he had slapped me hard and thrown me forcefully on the bed without hesitation.
He pulled his immaculate white towel and his member stood red hot in front of me, charged for work.
“See that blade on the table, if you shout, ill cut off your nipples” he fumed ferociously as he forced his thing into my mouth, masking any noise I would make.
His pubic hair smelt of nauseating medicated soap and I wretched for a second. The beautiful gown mother bought me fell in a cascade of shreds as his power basked at the sight of my organs.
“Allow me to put it in there” he said hitting my head with his vicious fists.
“Uncle Emma, no I will no...” Before I could finish, his charged soldier was parading my inside.
My pushing only fuelled the fire. He covered my mouth.
“Stop shouting, it’s not painful” he said sweating profusely as he pressed against my jugular.
He had full dominance, I was like a forbidden slave left to wallow in her master’s bed. Like a magnet, his penis seemed to be attracted. Each thrust brought me shame; each thrust brought him ecstasy, fulfilled enjoyment. His Alpha-ego had yet not failed him again. Tiny jets of blood flowed down my virgin legs.
“Hmm! You’re still a virgin?” he asked surprised.
“Be happy that I’m the one breaking it” he continued , not some village boy as his peak dwindled fast, like a quick dying sinusoidal wave. He pulled out and spilled his liquid on the bed sheet that was already ruffled from much struggling. I was terrified, my eyes showed shame and disgrace. Uncle Emma didn’t care; he wasn’t ready to engage in a pity patty with me. He pushed me off the bed and my head banged against the wall.
“Didn’t you enjoy it?” he asked returning to his spot to tie his towel. The bulge was still clear but my mind had been scarred, my life was lost in the midst of a myriad of thorn bushes. I was like one looking for the smallest piece in a foggy field as I leaned against the wall rubbing soothingly the wounds he had given me with his thirsty blows. He had found me inside his room.
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