This September will mark five years since the boy I loved crossed a line I never thought he would.

I was 15. He was 17. And what he did shattered something inside me. I had just completed SHS. We were good friends from the same neighborhood. I liked him in that fluttery, teenage way, so he became my boyfriend. And at that age, love meant what it meant to me: innocent, exciting, and free.

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I was still a child, really, though I didn’t know it then. I spent time around older friends, which exposed me to things I wasn’t ready for. Still, I was raised by deeply religious parents, and I took those values seriously. I wanted to wait for marriage before doing anything intimate. He knew that. He laughed about it sometimes, but I thought he respected it.

The day I finished my last WASSCE paper, he asked me to come over bags and all before even going home. I said no. The next day, he called again. This time, softer. He said he missed me and just wanted to see me. I gave in.

I lied to my parents and said I was going to visit my best friend. My mum was hesitant, but I insisted. That afternoon, I went to his house.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been there. It always felt normal, usually in the day, with his mother around. I trusted him.

This time, his brother and a couple of friends were home playing video games. He hugged me, said he missed me. Then, one by one, the others left. We were alone. That’s when everything started going off.

He looked at me and said something I’ll never forget: “So you… you’ve completed school without allowing anyone to ‘touch’ you. Today, you have to make me touch what has been untouched.”

I laughed awkwardly at first. I reminded him that I wanted to wait. I thought he’d back off like he usually did. But he didn’t.

I told him no, clearly, over and over. But he didn’t stop. What happened next… broke me. I don’t have the words to fully describe the pain or the fear. I cried. I begged. But he didn’t listen. He went all the way while I begged for help.

Afterward, he hugged me and said, “You’ve just done something special for me. You’ve proven your love. I’ll love you forever.”

Then he left and returned with a pill. As if it had all been planned. That was the day I met the darkest version of sadness. I didn’t know what depression was until then. In the days that followed, I felt like a shadow of myself. I was confused, ashamed, and deeply broken.

Two weeks later, I ended things after countless calls, guilt trips, and attempts to make me question my own reality. But no amount of apologies could undo what he had done.

I’m 20 now. I’ve finished university. I’ve moved forward in many ways. But I haven’t fully healed.

I sought therapy last year. It helped in just little ways; but I still carry the pain. I am still scarred but I don’t want to be silent anymore, and yes, I know people don’t talk about these things much here. These things are barely whispered in our communities.
Nonetheless, I want to take legal action against him. I don’t think I can carry this pain for the rest of my life. I want closure. I want peace and accountability.

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The hardest part? I can’t tell my parents. I love them dearly, but I’m not sure they could handle the truth. My mum’s health isn’t strong. And my dad, I fear he might unalive someone. That’s what makes this all even more difficult.

I need help. Not judgment. Just help.

If you’ve been here before, if you’ve healed, if you know what steps I can take especially legal ones, share advice. I’m scared. But I’m ready. I don’t want to carry this forever.

— Alberta

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