what i seek

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


A young lady is drawn into the web of humiliation and emotional objectification .

Submitted: December 14, 2017

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Submitted: December 14, 2017

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Uncle Tom was my favorite uncle because he always stood up for me when my mum and dad accused me of indecency and waywardness. It was never my plan to grow up inquisitive but hell yeah I did. Now there is no going back. For one, I was a playful girl in primary school always hanging around boys. I preferred them to girls. One other thing was that I loved was reading from our Better English textbook. The passages were so colorful and I always loved a new story, waiting for the twists and mostly the end. During the long reading sessions I sat with Richie, Brukewe and Deolu . They were my play mates. I loved the way they squinted and made me run round the school breathless. I didn’t see it coming but one reading session of the resuming week, a new student came and soon we became five jolly play mates. we were inseparable.  As we joined tables and old wooden benches to form one long bench enough for us and two other primary five boys, I opened my better English and was told to share with them so I sat in the middle of the boys while Brukewe, Deolu and Richie sat sharing another copy of the text book. As the reading session began with the familiar loud voice in the far corner of the class I couldn’t concentrate and decided to play. The first boy whispered to me that they would dip their hands under my gown and I laughed. I wondered what this new game was. I let them put their hands there and I laughed but I stopped them because I was aware of the teachers in the class and I felt some sort of shame so when they decided to ask for the same favor, I declined. I knew it was a game but it felt weird and ever since then I started avoiding them. Then the proprietress’s son often raised my sportswear while we wrestled in the sand. I loved the ‘catch me game’ but I felt weird each time. I was just a child. What did I know? 

  One other thing about Uncle Tom was the butt rubs he gave me whenever I ran to hug him. I don’t know if mama ever knew.  He had always been a good listener, still is.  Boarding school was hard for me but playing truth or dare was my favorite. I didn’t like the dares so I ducked under the truths. I remember Ireti, my dear bunk mate who set me up with Evans on his birthday night after sneaking out of the hostel. His room was empty that very night and I was tipsy and sleepy so I slept in his room comfortably. The sheets were cold from the rolling fan I loved the smell of coffee, gum and detergent. I woke up to a dark room, a body beside mine and I quickly rushed to the door. Evans beat me to it and quickly locked the door. I spoke loud and his hand reached or my mouth. His index finger touching his full lips, ‘ssh!.. do you want them to know that there is a girl in the hostel? do you want to get suspended?’, the loud hostel generator came on as the fan continued rotating. I saw that look in his eyes. I recognized it from the one in Uncle Tom’s eyes. I felt fear not warmth. I was wearing a short gown and wooden heeled sandals which I already took off. His face well lit was handsome and his lips full and reddish. His curly hair was an indication of the fact that he was a ‘Molato’. I pleaded with my eyes but his eyes were fixated on the roundness peeking from the v-necked black gown. I begged him but he walked slowly towards me like one possessed,making me walk backwards to the bed. I ran again and this time he grabbed my waist and pushed me to the bed peeling each layer of clothing carefully till our fair skins met with a creaking of the bed and my soft cries through the little gaps between the fingers he laid over my mouth. That day he drew blood and tears and laughed with a sick satisfaction on his face. He changed the sheets; I washed up and was pushed out into the cold night finding my way back to my hostel through teary eyes.

  My so-called friend Ireti stopped talking to me and soon the rumor spread of me begging to sleep with Evans and that he did it to put me out of my sexual frustration. I think of all these as I lie under Uncle Tom as he forces himself into me, I lie still, motionless, lifeless, because I do not live. I wish for death as he lets out a loud groan. Aunt Mirabel had gone out to buy groceries. I dress up quietly as he pulls out ten notes of one thousand naira as extra pocket money for me. I force a smile and lock myself up in my room. The tears pour down freely but my soul can never be free. School resumes tomorrow so I dress up and pack all the necessary things I would need for university life. Throughout the drive I am unusually quiet because Raphael, Uncle Tom’s son keeps staring at me oddly. His father meticulously avoids traffic lanes and is so busy that he doesn’t notice Raphael’s hand up my skirt. I protest but I realize it is his word against mine. I want it all to end. I open the car door and jump out to enjoy the freedom that my parents will forever enjoy. I feel peace.


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