Dying is better than living

 I came out from my room one morning to see mum crying bitterly and sobbing. There is blood from my virginal region.  I cried to mum, “Mummy look… look at blood all over my body”.  My mother was still crying, her problems are bigger than this world.  “Mummy listen to me! Look at blood…” I insisted but it seems mum is never in the mood to hear me out. “Go in and have your bath. I don’t have time for complains. You need to learn to take care of yourself. You are no longer a kid. I must not do everything for you.” She struggles to utter these world as she exit outside the building, probably to her friends place. “Why are crying? My child…” this was step father talking to me, I refused to answer at first because he has never been calm to me or my mother. But then, I hate my present state, probably he could give a solution. “I don’t know… I woke up this morning and the bed was stained with blood. When I looked around I saw blood all over my body” I innocently explained. “It’s ok my dear you are very fine my dear. You see, you are now a grown up woman, just like your mother. Just go in, have your bath and I will explain everything you need to know”. The excitement on his face got me curious, why is he acting so good and nice towards me, he has never been? These thoughts arouse my sense of curiosity and my eagerness to know why I’m dripping blood took me inside the bathroom.
And now I sitting with the same man I hated so much, the same man that I disgusted so much. The same man I wouldn’t hesitate to send to eternal rest. But here we are, sitting together. I wish after this, he would learn to love mum, I don’t want his love. “You are now a big woman my girl. You’re now my baby, my love and sexy mama! This blood stains are the signs of your maturity, they come every month. To some people it last for three days, others four, five and even seven days.” “I don’t like it, I don’t want it either, and it makes me sick” I don’t like the looks in his eyes. He is up to something which I can’t transcribe. He is looking at the centre of my legs, I don’t know why he is looking there. I think I need to leave now. “Thank you for the lesson” I thanked him and tried to make an exit. But he held me so firm, I felt the grip all over my body. He’s clutching his scrotums, licking his lips and as he looked at me with his eyes oscillating. “Why are you stopping me? Leave me alone!” I struggled with him but I was conquered. I struggled still, but his Rambo muscles and undertaker evil succumbed my struggling soul. He tore my shirt with just one pull. My skirt was as no a problem, I soon saw myself as plain as Eve, and then he started.  His first thrust couldn’t penetrate my narrow and shallow region. But then he wants to sail his titanic on top of my little stream.
“I was a thirteen years old girl, never had any relationship with any man before. I was a virgin. My stepfather made me to understand that one day I will lose my virginity to a hooker while hundreds of scars on my upper thigh. My parents divorced a couple of months after my birthday. My stepfather fist on me, he explored… he unleashed his dragon beast in me then I knew that my mother had taken me to another man indeed. As his six inches penis thrust inside of my poor little virgina, I couldn’t endure the poisonous pain, it was like hell. I was a virgin, a very tight virgin with a very tight virgina. He forced himself inside of me, I scream for hell to let loose and consume me, but my voice cracked, choking inside of my throat. It was horribly terrible. He couldn’t penetrate…then I thought he would walk away, but no! He forced himself inside of my little virgina. I was busy bleeding…he was still busy on me… dancing up and down. He sexed the hell out of me, even as I gasped for air, it became too corrosive to my nostrils.  My virgina became soft and fluffy…You can imagine when you have sex for the first time with someone you thought would have been your father.”
I was lying sleepless on the floor, how he got me clothes and put them on me, still remains a mystery. “Why are you crawling on the floor, like a baby? Stand up from the floor”. Mum in shock tries to raise me up from the dead ground. “I’m dying mother… I passing away like the morning mist, vanishing into the tin air. I’m gradually becoming the shadow of myself…” “What happened to you? I thought it’s just your menstrual pain. I know how it feels my child. The pains are sometimes severe. And this being your first time, I know it’s hell for you… come, let’s go inside and change up.” She doesn’t know what I’m going through, it’s not her fault. Her problems are too much, she couldn’t notice that I was gradually losing life. With acute pain and anger I managed to release the time bomb, “stepfather raped me. He forcefully slept with me.” Indeed it was a time bomb, this struck me so hard, and it’s too heavy for heart to bear and her ear to process. “What? Stepfather… raped you? I know him to be cruel, brutal, wicked, and heartless… but he cannot be so shameless and wicked as to defile my only daughter, his stepdaughter! Who taught you rape? What if your father hears you? “He is not my father, he is not my father…” uncontrollable tears floods my eyes. My mum is blinded, fear has punctured her pride and sense of reasoning.

Mum never believed her husband raped me, for her it’s not possible. The devil also have compassion she would say each time I cry out to her. She would tell me that her husband is not capable of such act. And now he has mastered my menstruation cycle, it is the best time for him to carry out his duty on me. I gradually became his sex slave and for years I remain. He would tell me how he loved me, more than my mother, and how he is willing to marry me if I accept him. He would tell me how he married my mother out of pity for her, that he doesn’t love her. Sometimes when he is done feasting, he would cry and apologise to me with gifts. Gradually he stopped beating me and my mother. He became nice to me, it’s been long I felt this way. He keeps buying gifts and making us happy. Mum is still in awe of the transformation and she would always pray and thank God for answering her prayers. I am happy for her because she is happy. Indeed God has a way of answering our prayers I guess. I stopped telling her anything about my sexual life and other biological development. I’ve come to love it, sometimes I asked him for it, I want it rough, hard and tough. Sometimes he complains of being tired after just four rounds. But I want more, I love it now. He would tell that I’m still very small and young and that he is getting old and weak. That if he continues like this, he might die one day. So he is even afraid to die? What about me that he killed six years ago. Now the ghost of the poor girl he killed haunts him, he is now the haunted hunter.
“Few months after the rape incident, I started bed wetting. I know I’ve passed the stage of bed wetting, but I could not relate it to my mum. She would either don’t believe me or reduce me to nothing for bed wetting. Because he always comes in the night like a thief, I don’t lock my door. One faithful night he notice the smell, and I explained to him. He was always giving me medicine I don’t know. I was pregnant for him severally and severally he made me commit abortions, of which I almost died in the process. I don’t see myself bearing children anymore, so the doctor said. At 19, I have lost my womb for my stepfather.
I got deranged, demented and traumatized.  I became psycho and close to insanity. Sometimes I would hold my head, swinging it in diverse positions. Sometimes shrilled screaming would interspersed the swinging. “I hate you! I hate myself.” With tears I would cut myself with the broken bottles I drank from. I love my drinking, my smoking and drugging. They are true friends and companions. I find solace in them. “I hate you!”  I will always scream these words and giggle and sometimes I will laughs hysterically. “Please help me… I hate this nightmare… stirring at my face, every day and night! Leave me alone. Go away! Get out of my head!” my illogical used of words and malapropisms is a clear indication of my psycho pathetic state. In my screaming and madness I bumped into stepfather. “It’s ok my dear. I am here for you.” He would sound so soft and sweet. I love it when he says he loves me. Nobody has said that to me, not even mum. He would want to make me feel loved, but I know he is taking advantage of me and my mum. I know we are his slaves and I, his sex doll and slave. And I really want to serve him anytime he wants me.

“Let’s go for prayers, your mother is not around”, he would say this with his eyes always oscillating. I love how humble he looks whenever he comes to me. For once I have power and can control someone as reputable has stepfather. But today I am not in the mood. I am unkept, cuts everywhere and he is not worried, and he doesn’t care. He is only concerned in swimming and today the river is dried. “I can’t, I am not feeling strong, beside I am not in the mood.” I explained, thinking he would understand since I don’t refuse him but he insisted, just to satisfy his thirst and relish. “I will kill you if we work today. Leave it for tomorrow I will give it to you hot.” “With you I want to die, let me go to hell because of you, I will happy to die a happy death”. My seductive pleading fell on thorny ears as he grab me by my breasts. He almost squeezed out glands immediately. He excavated me into my room. He said he doesn’t want to defile his matrimonial bed, and he doesn’t want my mum to catch us, so he preferred my room.
But he is sleeping now. But I don’t know when he is waking up. I just experimented a little by thrusting my new knife into his chest, just a little thrust into his devilish heart. I also cut off his penis, I mean, his manhood, he said it is mine alone.  So I want to help him fulfil that in his death. That’s the sign of true love and faithful to promises. I took it off. I will cook it and eat it with mother today… it’s disgusting right? But was not disgusting when he was always using it on me every day and night. Killing him is my greatest miracle. Let him go to God for his judgement without manhood. At least heaven will have a little comic relief. Judging a man without manhood! What will be his defence?
 “So Mr Executioner, I want to die, please end my miseries. End my pains. I want to sojourn to my ancestors. I want to die!” he is crying instead of him to kill me. Why would a military man trained in killing be crying to kill a convict? “Kill me!!!” I scream with the roar of a thousand gladiators to the quakes of the building. I attacked him, and in self-defence he shot at me. I felt the peace of the world. He is crying, he rushed to me, calling for help. “Please don’t cry I am happy for finally I have rest.” I have cried all my life. I cry no more, no more crying Mary.

*The end*

By penhouse

Jaja Godspower is a creative thinker and business strategist. He an award winning writer, blogger, author and a film maker from Nigeria. He is motivated with the desire to grow brands and businesses through adequate branding and visibility with his writing expertise. He is the founder of Penhouse Initiative, one of the largest growing writing hub in Africa.

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