At the ripe
age of 15 years
was when it
first happened
I had filled
out,
like a well
written letter, punctuated in the right place
and from the
stares and open admiration visited on my body
I'm a sight
for sore eyes
I had just
discovered pleasure
lurking in
the recess of my body
from touches
purely accidental
to the ones
from Ugo's able finger
I was a
miracle waiting to happen
or so I
thought.
That hot
afternoon in November
mother's
'honey-Joe' offered me a chilled glass of orange juice
I saw the
looks they exchanged
but I was
too parched to care,
I mean it
was after all from my mother's husband
Weeks later
I would replay waking up
my skirt
still on but half up my thighs
strangely
I'm not with either of my tights or panties
a strange
bitter-sour taste hangs in the beginning of my throat
I felt sore
in between my thighs
blood stain
and another I couldn't describe.
I would go
on to tell mother that night
she shrugged
it off as those things dream does to you
strange she
wouldn't look me in the eyes
somehow I
know I had been had
especially I
wake up from strange sleeps at odd periods
often
preceded by drinking something mum gave me or good old honey-Joe
I got my pen-knife
two days ago
it's double
edged and razor sharp
that snaking
piece between honey-Joe's legs
is gonna be
taken surgically from him
it would be
my first surgery
after all
mother said I would be a doctor.
Oh and I did
detach it
so much
blood and squealing like a pig
he's
starting to stare at Chioma's budding breasts...
Oluwole.
