'Help me buy sugar for Aboki hand', Nasiru belched into my faded ears.
' I no well', I retorted in a shy defiance.
His eyes over ran the complexities of my feminine aesthetics with salacious interest.
'Abeg , help me buy am ', he said . I took some drips for my stubborn malaria and only came out to use the bathroom as my eyes ache feverishly.
I limped through our passage with my hands resting against the wall for support .I got the sugar to him .
' I want play with you small,' he said.
He threw my frail soul on the bed , unlocked his erotic wand and roared with a devious smile wrapped in contempt as he poured his semen on my hair.My eyes went ajar . I felt a big pot set on fire in my stomach. I became deaf ,dumb,numb,cold,afraid ,bewildered and blank. I stared at him and the ceiling with hate, agony, pain and rage. I was too weak to scream for help.
He took some tissues and wiped himself , then threw some wraps at me.
I wanted to burn his soul to stupor.
I felt ashamed of myself. I could have fought back. My head was spinning .
A thousand thoughts criss crossed my mind about suicide and its mode.
I lay in the pool of blood with a wish. My wish was to see him in his own pool too.
I hated men. I love women.
I and Stella became great friends. We do things together since then. Interesting things that Mum would disapprove if she knew. But, I hate men.Nasiru fled. I see his apparitions around the cracked,mud screened bathroom every sunset .....................after I saw his brain splashed across the gutter some miles away from our home while he was raping the daughter of a vigilante guard in broad day light behind a brown wooden kiosk.
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