The Horror, the horror.

The Horror, the horror.

After it happened, I think my spirit vacated my body. I could not move, I could not scream, I couldn’t even cry. I remained rooted to the spot, not believing that this had just happened to me. ME. I was good, kind and decent. I did not deserve this. More so, it happened in broad daylight. Things like this don’t happen in the day. Or do they?

‘Move!’ My brain finally kicked into gear. I had to get out of there before it happened again. My rendezvous with the girls was quickly forgotten. All I wanted was to get home without further mishap. The 8 minute walk was the longest of my life. The pedestrians I had previously ignored were now shifting shadows and potential attackers- ready to pounce at any minute. I shivered under the noonday sun.

The shivers escalated to rigors the moment I walked through home doors. The familiar faces; mom, dad, my sister, her boyfriend… It was too much. I crumbled to the carpet.

‘What happened? Oh my God! What happened? Were you attacked? Who died? Talk to us now…you’re scaring us!’

I felt my mother’s hands all over me as she searched for blood, cuts or sores. Poor woman, she was working herself up to a frenzy.

‘Tell me what happened baby…’

I must have been 13 the last time she called me baby. I remember telling her that as a teenager I did not appreciate being regarded as a baby and to buttress my point, she was to answer to mom, as ‘mommy’ was so pre-teen. I looked up and saw my dad with his arms crossed, preparing for the worst. He had aged 10 years in less than 10 minutes. My daddy. I couldn’t. Not in front of him. It would kill him. Mom caught my look and signaled to the boys to leave. The door shut behind them.

‘Mommy’ I whimpered.

‘They’re gone. It doesn’t matter what it is- you can tell me.’

Deep breath. ‘I can do this’. I told myself.

‘I was just walking down Ajakaiye avenue and out of nowhere, this boy just ran up to me  and… and… Mommy he hit my bum!!

I didn’t even know I was holding it all in until I burst into tempestuous tears. How I sobbed! What was that other sound though? It didn’t sound like my sister wailing or my mother raising her voice in a dirge…wait a minute… The heifers were laughing! The boys burst into the room unannounced- obviously believing that we had gone berserk with grief. Imagine their confusion when my sister fell to the floor in spasms, while mom forced herself to take a huge gulp of air before gagging out to dad:

‘Someone hit your daughter on her bum-bum!’

And so the merry making continued.

‘My friend snap out of it! So a stranger hit you on your butt… So what? It must have been shaking very well. You should take it as a compliment. We thought something serious had happened! You’re too sensitive jare!’

How is a random guy sexually harassing me on the street a compliment?  Whose butt doesn’t shake when they walk? Should we all pad our behinds with notebooks? What if he had grabbed me elsewhere? Should I have blushed prettily if he went for my breast instead? It jiggles too doesn’t it? Or is it all about location?

My sister meant well, but at that moment, I would have given her up for slave trade.

It’s been two hours since I locked myself in my room and I still haven’t stopped crying tears of hurt and fury. Mad at myself for being the victim. I should have chased him, thrown something, cussed him out- anything! I just stood there! Furious at my family for laughing at me. Hurt that they aren’t even trying to understand.

‘Thank God at least it wasn’t rape’

Wasn’t it? He stole from me. He took without asking, and left me frightened, violated  and confused. Was I really asking for it? After all I was wearing my killer jeans. What if it happened again? What if they were several of them at different junctions just waiting for me to wriggle past? Should I change my wardrobe? Was this all my fault?

Down came the proverbial ton of bricks. Precious. Bubbly, nauseatingly gorgeous, with a body made for sin, Precious. Everything she wore hugged, stretched, plunged and revealed. She was respectful enough, but didn’t get respect back in return. She was altogether too blatantly sexy to be given the benefit of the doubt. The cars that graced her parking space were proof enough that she was peddling her assets. And so the verdict was final- she was the neighborhood slut.

Precious was raped 2 weeks ago. They broke into her house to take nothing but her. And they did. Over and over again. Empty platitudes were offered, but behind her back, men and women cackled like witches. ‘She brought it on herself,’ they said. ‘Maybe now she will invest in native’.

Wiping my tears, I got up, went to the kitchen, found a basket and packed a meal of rice, chicken, fruits and juice.

Even the doorbell sounded sad. The door cracked open after I identified myself and I came face to face with a pathetic, hollow creature clad in a baggy sweatshirt and boyfriend jeans. Is this what she had to become to get some sympathy? I’m filled anew with loathing for man’s inhumanity to man. A peek into the house revealed bare walls and the chaos that accompanied moving. Made sense- she had no choice but to run from her nightmare. Her gaze shifted between me and the basket and then her eyes filled with a longing so deep my heart shattered once again.

‘I’m sorry Precious’, was all I said before we burst into tears.



26 thoughts on “The Horror, the horror.” by Admin2 (@admin2)

  1. Awwww… She learnt a valuable lesson from that one encounter…Lovely story..Good job Ce Ug!

  2. I laughed at the sheer irony of the story to its title; you’ve have thought the world had ended. And it indeed had. I agree: “is it about location?” Would it have been worse or better had it been her breasts that were grabbed? How does that translate to being childish? I like that her interpretation of her encounter helped her empathise with another’s pain. She could understand it, so she could help.

    I wonder how often we are guilty of being judgemental without even knowing it?
    ce ug: I doff my hat.

  3. I love this, ce ug. I love the way you brought the story round from what most people take as simple ‘disrespect’ to the horror of violation.
    I hope we all learn from it.

  4. eyah…you made a good point with this story. and it also helped empasize that maybe…just maybe it wasn’t Precious’ fault.
    lovely story with good morals.

    1. Maybe, just maybe it wasn’t Precious’ fault. Hmmm Beautiful, that’s really it.

  5. Mazi Nwonwu (@Fredrick-chiagozie-Nwonwu)

    Nice one, well told. Keep it up.

  6. Wow! unexpected twist there. and a good lesson learnt. The empathy shown towards Precious was timely. well done!

  7. Thanks a mil guys..

  8. You’re nuts!!! When I saw that sentence in bold I must have broken somethin internally while I laughed. Sweet Jesus! The irony was redunculous. I soo loved how you brought us back to earth though. You try, dis babe. You try…

  9. Okay, this is supposedly a funny story with some emotional twinge to it but I kinda have some issues with some things here.

    I guess you were talking about the dread and fear the main character felt when she was assualted and felt it could have been like Precious’ experience. But You didnt do enough justice to the Precious part. I had to read the part where you talked about Precious to understand that it was another girl. There were some detachments that I felt you may need to join together and make more understandable.

    Secondly…I don’t think the title is apt. The title is more like part of the story’s body. And again it may be a far fecthed title to use.

    Besides that, you write well…you have lines that are quite funny and striking:

    ‘So a stranger hit you on your butt… So what? It must have been shaking very well. You should take it as a compliment.’

    ‘My sister meant well, but at that moment, I would have given her up for slave trade.’

  10. Thanks cikko.. we do try…

    @ Afronuts … Thanks for the critique. hmm. First off, the title is mostly tongue in cheek, until you reach the end and wonder if there wasn’t really a ‘horror’ to her situation after all. 2) I deliberately made the reader work a little to know Precious was a girl- just for kicks… I could just have easily chosen another name. 3) Precious isn’t the focal point of the story- she’s the didactic element and I didn’t want to whack everyone over the head with the horrors of rape- for the most part, people have a fair idea. Still, you’ve given me something to think about. writing can always get better. Merci!

  11. Meena-Adekoya (@Olajumoke-Adekoya)

    very thought provoking work…shows exactly how much bad things people take for granted…like i always say…what is wrong is wrong, shit is still shit even if u cover it up with perfume and tie it with a bow…

    1. True dat Meena!

  12. I could almost feel the relief of her mother and sister. I’d actually thought maybe the world was ending or something. Twas a bit confusing the way Precious was introduced, though. Had to go back and read it again to really get it. All the same, I always enjoy reading your work.

    1. Thanks Uche! i’ll try not to pumish u again :D

    2. Thanks a lot Uche! i’ll try not to punish u again :D

  13. you got me scared for a minute there, Nice reading..

  14. Well, the story flowed for me and the introduction of Precious didn’t stall it.

  15. Thanks 2cute4u.

    @abby ur a gem! thanks!

  16. Nice work Ce Ug. Keep it up…u set very high standards to follow..I go try sha..

  17. Thanks Diva Divine! That’s really high praise!

  18. I loved it… and believe me, I’m really picky.
    well done.

    1. Thanks Tamoi!

  19. laughed hard after which i thought hard too.
    your story gives something to think about.
    this one is a great job.

    1. Many thanks Anderson!

  20. i loved the way you shocked me, you tell stories well too, maade me hink it was more serious than that, good job.

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