You sit naked on the bed wallowing in shame. ‘How could he do this to me?’ you think. ‘How could my own father…’ You watch him get up, clean the sweat off his face and pull up his trousers over his protruding belly. He tells you he loves you, you look away. He disgusts you and you disgust yourself. He tells you he’ll take you shopping the next day for a new wardrobe.
You remember what he said when he pushed you into him and your mother’s room the first time two years ago. ‘I know you’re only 13, my little angel, but I’m preparing you for your near future. This can happen at any time and you may not know how to control it.’ you wondered what he was talking about and why he was unbuttoning your shirt and covering your breasts in his hands. You shrugged but he held you tight. You were so naïve. ‘Ah, Angel, you are beautiful.’ He said as he unhooked your bra. You didn’t know what to say. He pushed you unto the bed and the large weight of his body slammed yours unto the bed. You felt his thing enter you. It was so painful that you had to scream. You screamed at the top of your voice but it was no use and he knew it too because your mother was out of the country working, there was no one else around. It has happened many times, since then, you struggle every time but he always wins. He tells you of the harsh ramifications that will befall on you if you mention it to a single soul and it always stuns you to silence, you’re afraid.
You contemplated running away but realised you would definitely not be able to cope and there was no one to run to. You thought many times about telling your mum but she was never around, always working. Even if she were around, she wouldn’t listen to you. She despises the fact that you’re a girl; she’s always wanted a boy and it seemed like a dry spell got cast on her womb after your birth. Your Dad is always there for you, he always has time for you and you loved him dearly before he started doing this to you. You are close, he has watched you and ‘trained’ you through puberty but you still love him because he cares.
‘I’m pregnant again.’ You say to your father who is now fully dressed. ‘I’ll take you to the clinic tomorrow.’ He says to you without any thought, it’s normal. ‘I can’t this time, dad. The doctor said the next time I do it, I can die.’ He hisses. ‘You will not die joor.’ ‘I am not getting an abortion.’ You say firmly and fold your arms. He walks over to you and hits you hard on your face. ‘You brat! Do you know what they’ll think of you? You’re 15 and you’re pregnant. You must get an abortion, you hear me?! You will not die. You will get it before your mother comes back.’ He says then storms out of the room.
You run away, the doctor seems nice enough so you tell her your story. She sympathises with you and accommodates you in her small but comfortable house. She later tells you that you have to tell your mother, no matter what. Now, your bump is evident. You can’t hide in here forever. You have to go back; it’s already been two months. You thank the doctor for her hospitality. You leave and take a cab to your house. Thankfully, your father isn’t around, no one is. You ask the gate man if your mother is back. He tells you she’s at the office and looks at you pitifully, he knows.
You’re too scared to bother mother at work. She’s always serious about it. It’s like a child that she’s nurtured so thoughtfully, a child that she cares more about than you. You summon up the courage and get a cab down to her office. You pass her secretary and walk straight into her office. She looks at you pointedly then laughs. ‘So, you ran away to be with a lover, right? And now, you’re pregnant. Olorigbeske, you shame me.’ She says and faces the paper work on her desk again. ‘I don’t have time for your nonsense. Please, get out.’ she says with a scary cold demeanor.
You stand your ground for once. ‘Have you ever had time for my non sense?’ you ask sarcastically. ‘No, I am not going.’ ‘What rubbish?!’ she shouts standing up. ‘Listen to me for once.’ You say.
‘You were never there. You’ve always neglected me. Dad was, he took care of me then he raped me, continuously. This is not the first time I’m pregnant. I’ve had several abortions always before your return.’ You say your hand groping your belly.
‘Anjola. What?!’ she says tears starting to stream down her face. ‘Oh. Now you care? You never did, you let me suffer but I’m keeping this one. I’m keeping this baby.’ You say firmly. ‘My baby, I’m sorry. I am a fool. I’m so sorry… I’m-I am so sorry.’ She says. You start crying too. She walks over to you and takes you in her arms; you can’t remember the last time she did that. You wet each other’s clothes with your tears. ‘I just needed you to care.’ You say repeatedly. ‘Baby, I do now. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of this.’ She says rubbing your back.About the author: Oyindamola Depo-Oyedokun is a 14 year old genius who was planted into the Depo-Oyedokun family as the last born. She is really smart (scary smart people). She can really dance (I wonder where she got that from because the rest of us were not blessed with that talent). She enjoys drawing as well and is becoming obsessed with sciences. She is a God fearing child who strives to live in accordance to God’s will. She also gives good advice, I can testify to that. Oyindamola enjoys writing (I passed that gift down to her, lol) and she will rather engage in deep conversations than pretend she is enjoying shallow discussions. 1