My Last Confession

He was smiling and giggling as we walked down to his lodge that evening. He had told me so many times that evening how beautiful my eyes were, how delicious I would be if I were to be food. We all knew him. He was the good guy amongst all. All my female friends wanted to have him smile all day with them, hold their hands like he held mine as we bump into each other, his shoulders brushing mine.

Early that afternoon, Maggi had come to tell me that she had zeroed her mind when it comes to ‘those guys’; the words reeled off from her mouth and were burnish with emotions untold. She spoke without breathing and I patted her back gently. Maggi was tall, slender with flawless chocolate skin and pretty eyes that pierces into one’s soul, especially when she is asking for a difficult favour from someone. Chiara had envied her often time saying men were at her beck and call.

But now, I had to tell my story, not to Maggi nor to Chiara because the angel they saw as my boyfriend was the one diluting my spiritual life, quenching the ecstasy in my pen. He was tall, black and slender with his skin cut hairstyle and his beard forming a ‘U’ shape. His eyes were as white as his teeth could be. I loved him and I could tell he loved me too. I had not said what happened that evening still and I needed to say it all because my priest sat the other side of the confessional. It was going to be my last confession. 

“I loved him father, but that evening he mocked my story. He knew my father had sexually abused me since I was a child, I told him that night when I was glued to his embrace, I was thinking he is the best person to hear that story just for the fact that he understood me more than Osas, Ikechukwu and Izunna. How could he mock me when I told him I gave my life to Christ already? When I told him that I would abstain? Why did he say that abstinence was not for people like me whom their father has explored? He had touched my wound.

I paused, the eyes of my priest was rimmed with eagerness. He would have asked me to go on but he knew how long and exhausting it was to get me to say something. I commenced because I wanted that to be my last confession. 

“I was lit with anger, it burnt through my whole body and submerged my patience, so...I went to the kitchen after I laughed hard at his supposed joke and stabbed him in his tummy. At first it was scary, but it became fun afterwards. I had died so many times in my Father's arms, it didn't matter to me what would happen after that." 

My priest trembled. It was obvious in his voice the words were hard to say; he must have imagined the monster that I was. I didn't plan on being a monster but life made an option B for me. I don't know what my priest was going  to say to me, but I knew that was my last confession and I was going to give my life to Christ again.

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