Nightmare

I still see him, not only when I try to sleep at night or when I watch a scene of a man and woman making love, but also when I’m forcibly sent on an errand at my aunt’s.

Even my sleep won’t let me forget, I see him as a beast eating up my flesh, can you blame me for thinking that?

After all, he’s a beast and he has eaten up my flesh.

Nothing filled my mind than his smiling face, and hairy chest, and how his hands couldn’t let go of my waist while I was begging in sincere agony.

Scars were left not only on my body, but also in my heart, memory and soul – they never cease to stop appearing every moment that passes by.

No amount of cleanser could wash me clean of his filthy touches.

Whenever he smiled at my mom or little brothers, my mind rushed back to the day he smiled at me while crumbling my flower.

His smile made hearts, with the exception of mine, melt and I didn’t think that people would believe that such a nice and good looking man was an abusive, manipulative molester. A gentle beast that devoured his prey while making them feel like they deserved whatever he was doing to them.

I watch how he rushes to rescue my 5 year-old cousin whenever she is crying or angry.

Which led me to wonder, “so he’s acquainted to girls’ screams and tears after he ignored mine that day when I was crying in anguish, begging to be freed of his clingy claws.”

Before he polluted my thoughts, the word “insecurity” never crossed it; I never knew how vulnerable I was until then. My brothers were still below 10, and the only man I thought could stand up for me at that time had already stood up against me.

“If you tell your mom, she won’t believe you and even if she did, there’s nothing she would do about it. That also means you and your brothers will stop schooling.”  That was the “after sex talk” he gave me.

After all, he was right. My  mom didn’t believe me till she saw it herself.

She warned me never to tell anyone; that if I told anyone else my aunt could lose her marriage and that my little cousin was too young to live without a father around.

I never thought that a person’s few minutes of pleasure could be another one’s lifetime trauma.

Couldn’t believe that my flower was rotted out before it even got the chance to bloom. He had withered what was meant to glitter.

Authored by: Rose Teebeh Nyounway

Featured Image by: Oladimeji Odunsi on Unsplash