Madam had travelled to one of her numerous trips. I had been happy to have the home all to myself as usual, but was greeted with surprise when she called to inform me her son was coming home from school for an unexpected holiday.
I was eager to meet him as I had never seen what he looked like. Madam would occasionally talk about him but that was it.
Madam had given me instructions on what to do to prepare for his coming. I rushed up to his room to begin necessary cleaning.
While dusting the side cupboard, a frame fell to the floor and broke. As I bent down to retrieve the image from the shattered glasses, a voice pushed my lungs far deep into my chest. I was startled and turned to find a rather lanky, curly haired boy on a free hanging shirt and jeans, staring at me with anger and disgust.
“What have you done to my photo frame? Are you stupid? Do you know how priceless this was?” he barked at me.
Like an armadillo, I rolled into my shell. My legs had some tingling, funny sensation going on in them. I wobbled and took some steps back. His hands looked like they were about to go strong on my face.
My lips were apart, vibrating to the pulse of his rage. “I….I mean……I’m sorry …..” I swallowed hard, ”…..Sir,” I wretchedly added.
“What is happening to me?” I pondered—words have failed me miserably. I was always verbose but today, something changed. I had never seen so much fury, in all my life.
He stepped stealthily towards me. I could feel his nostrils vomiting heat like an infuriated bull as I prepared my body for the worst but instead he grabbed the picture from my hands.
“Get out of my room this instant!” he said, pointing the way to the door like I never knew of its existence.
“I’m so sorry Sir,” I turned to say while walking out, hands attentively by my sides.
“Moron!” he added banging the door behind me.
What had I just witnessed? Oh God! How can I live with such an angry person alone for two whole weeks! No miracle would save me from this kind except Madam decides to cancel her trip and come back home.
As I prepared the table that night, I wondered how I was going to call him down for dinner. I stood making sure everything was perfect—from the knife to the spoon, to the plates. After I was satisfied, I tiptoed up the stairs towards the hall of impending danger.
I rapped gently at his door in two uncalculated moves, listened in and heard his footstep making its way boisterously to the door. I took a few steps back to create a distance, or at least I thought I did.
He appeared at the door, with only his boxers. I swallowed my saliva but it formed a lump in my throat. I just stood there, staring at what he obviously wanted me to see.
“Dinner is ready,” I forced myself to say, still feeling the lump grow in my throat and walked briskly away like a petrified cat.
The next few days seemed more like a ritual—I’d wake up in the morning, make breakfast and begin the chores while he was having breakfast. This was the time I took out to clean and arrange his room. He was always at breakfast table and I did ensure that I wasted no time doing all this so I would get out of his way.
It all went on like this until one fateful day. I had prepared his breakfast as usual, snuck up to his room to clean it up while he was downstairs having his breakfast.
The door sprung open to reveal my worst fear. It was him and he had not obviously had his breakfast. I stood up frantically, adjusted my overwhelmingly long skirt, went over to the other side of the bed, and bent down in pretense of arranging it. All this while, I could feel his eyes penetrating my skin but I feared to look up to see what he was up to.
And then I felt his hands encircling my waists. “This is so not happening!” I recall assuring myself but I was so wrong. I stood up with disbelief in my eyes to face him and it was then I noticed his eyes.
His sclera were of the finest quality of crystal, with somewhat green pupils. They sang me the heavenly hosanna! I could have sworn I wore a halo right there. Was I smiling? I couldn’t remember. What else could have prompted his next action?
He kissed me and I just melted like butter in hot flames. I was so gullible and couldn’t resist the strange pangs of lust in my belly. I lurched forward and reciprocated his kisses.
My moral thoughts slapped at my back, cautioning me, hard. It kept saying, “this isn’t right! This isn’t right!”and then I did what any girl in her right senses would. I pushed him away and made for the door.
I locked myself up in my room for the rest of the day. The whole thing felt so weird. I had never kissed anyone before and then this guy came and taught me how it felt like to be struck by intense desire.
I felt I had come undone so easily without as much as a fight; I felt dirty worse than any sinner to have walked the earth. I perceived I had failed my upbringing woefully. What had come over me? I allowed him go on for like three minutes—I was obviously enjoying my sins.
I recited my prayer of contrition for the umpteenth time; my heart was telling me this was an unforgivable sin. I did the sign of the cross over and over again. My heart threatened to jump out of its reserved cave.
I resolved to go for the Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation. But how do I tell the Reverend Father that I have lost the way of righteousness? I was going to go to Church very early, make my confessions and hope the Father forgives me.
Dinner was never prepared in the house that day! The next morning, I woke up very early, had my bath and dressed up for Church. The thought of it all have refused to leave me. I was struck with grief and shame. How do I look anyone in the eye? I thought.
I had never been in such a situation before and there was no page in the encyclopedia of upbringing that showed me how to deal with this!
Mom has never taught me what to do when approached by a man in this way, I was only told to keep away from boys, which I have done all my life. But what do you do when a boy comes to you in all his awesome manliness?
I gently opened the door of my room, snuck down the staircase, felt a relief when I made for the parlour door to leave the house. As I opened the door, my heart jumped out of my chest.
There he was, right outside the door of the house. What do I do now? I made to walk to the gate but he held my hands. I felt wet instantly, in my undies. Was it urine? What was it? I didn’t have time to find out.
He dragged me back into the house while I faintly resisted. He was obviously stronger and I didn’t know what he was up to. My hands still in his, he made for the stairs and when I realized our destination was his room, I tried to force my hand out of his strong lock.
But it was too late! I was in his room before I could say, “Jack!” He flung me to his bed and began undressing himself.
I remember begging him not to do it… whatever it was he wanted to do, I knew it was no good for me.