by The year your father died was the year your mother got married to Mr Hosea, but she calls him King Hosea, the love of my life. He was indeed her king; he bought all her shoes and expensive make up and she drove his Nissan Armada around the city in Abuja.
That same year your elder sister eloped with her high school boyfriend, Great Steven. She called you months later to say they were married and expecting a baby. You felt sorry for her, but again, you felt relieve that she finally had someone to provide for her even though you knew she did not love him. But the world is a cruel place; you don’t have to love someone before you eat their money.
Right from the first day Mr Hosea packed into your mother’s apartment, you knew he wasn’t there for good. He looked at you in a way that made you tremble. You feared him more than darkness but your fears increased on August 12 2015. You were down with malaria and your mother had travelled to Lagos for a conference. A knock came on your door at about 8:57pm, you knew it was him but you hadn’t the slightest idea what he wanted. Maybe he had come to do one of his step-father to step-daughter sermons.
“Come in”, you said with an exhausted voice.
He came in and bolted the door, you sprang up from bed immediately but the sight you met when he turned on the light frightened you more. He
was standing before you stark naked, his penis fully erect. He held a pistol in his right hand.
“Get out!” You yelled.
He smiled softly as he moved closer to you. You kept moving back till your back touched the wall.
“Come here baby girl, I don’t bite” he said seductively.
You didn’t move.
“Now!” He roared, pointing the weapon at you.
You obeyed.
“You will suck me till I come. If you stop, a bullet will be buried in your skull”
You knelt before him and blow-jobbed him dutifully. One hand controlled your head, the other held the gun to your ear. You felt his substance swim in your mouth, and you almost threw up.
Later that night, you squeezed yourself in bed after you had brushed your mouth till you almost bled. You wished you could have a tongue transplant or have scrapper travell thoroughly in your mouth, down to the throat. The salty taste of his sperm hung in your throat. Mother didn’t know the kind of monster she had married.
“At least he didn’t rape you”, You heard a voice inside of you. You consoled yourself with that thought and waited for morning to come.
Mother will return.
Your mother’s response to your ordeal frightened you more than Mr Hosea’s actions.
“You see this house?”, She said with her two hands clasped between her thighs and her eyes staring searchingly into your eyes as if the house was in there.
“He renewed the rent. How do you think I get all the money to pay your fees and go for all these conferences eh!? He does all that!.”
She was speaking.
“Do you know how much food you consume!? Your sister is not here, it makes work easier for me. Your father did not leave shishi before he died”
She waved her empty hands to illustrate her point.
“So when Mr Hosea asks you to do something, you do it without questioning. You hear me!?.”
You didn’t find the strength to answer. You stood there, defeated. And tears covered your face.
Farida Adamu, Nigerian writer
Farida Adamu is a short story writer and a final year student of mathematical statistics. She loves to lazy about her house and is highly opinionated.
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