I was sixteen when my mom’s boyfriend lured me into his room and tried to take it by force. I had closed from school when I met him along the way to my house. He called to me. He said he had something for my mom, so I should follow him to his house and collect it for her.

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Immediately after we entered his room, he pounced on me. I didn’t see it coming. I was so naive; I believed every word he said to me until he pounced. I fought him and started shouting. He tried covering my mouth, but I bit him. Then, a man in the compound screamed his name, thinking I’d done something wrong and he was punishing me. The man said, “It’s OK. With today’s kids, if you follow your heart, you might end up beating them to a pulp.”

The man walked toward the door while he was talking. He sensed the man’s approach and got off me. I sneaked out and took to my heels. That same evening, he came to see my mom, and when he got me alone, he whispered his warning, “If you dare tell your mom, you won’t see tomorrow’s sun.”

I told a distant aunt about it, and out of rage, she confronted my mom’s boyfriend in front of my mom. Aunt Bee fought like a tiger, wanting to strip the man’s shirt and embarrass him so the world would know who he actually was. After the fight, she told my mom never to bring such a man close to her daughter because he had no good intentions.

My mom turned her anger at me instead of the man who nearly robbed me of my dignity. She screamed, “If it’s true, why didn’t you tell me first? Why did you decide to tell a lie just to embarrass him?”

She labeled me as adwaman, locked me out, and told me to go to my aunt since she was the one I had told. I slept outside the door that night while she was in there with the same man who nearly raped me. When she saw me in the morning, she threw my things out and told me to leave. When I kept sticking around, she poured kerosene on my clothes and lit a match to them. I could only recover a few. The rest got burnt while I watched.

I had no option but to go and tell my distant aunt. She took me in, but she still went to deal with my mom and questioned her parental status. My mom said, “It’s you who don’t have a child; keep her.” Aunt Bee retorted, “I wonder why God won’t give me one, but gave a heartless woman like you one. Which mother would abandon her own daughter because of a borla man?”

She took me back to her home, and that was the beginning of the life I have today. After I had lived with her for a year, she was transferred to another town. She went to my mom again, hoping she would take me back as she prepared to travel out of town to her new station. My mom insisted that if Aunt Bee didn’t want me anymore, she should leave me on the street where I belonged.

Eventually, Aunt Bee left with me. I started SHS once we settled. I went to the Polytechnic, got a job, and went back to get a degree. Through it all, Aunt Bee was by my side. I remembered my mom only in shadows. I thought of her, but not fondly. I wondered about her whereabouts and how life was treating her, but I didn’t want to find out where she was.

One day, my aunt called and asked me to come home over the weekend to visit her. She usually used my favorite food to lure me in: “Come over. I’ll make your food special.”

I got home, and my mom was there with her. She had struggled to find my aunt so she could find me. She was seated peacefully with a smile on her face, as if she wasn’t the woman who had chosen my rapist over me. I greeted her and gave her a warm hug. Aunt Bee told me my mom had come looking for me.

She came with a lengthy apology, calling herself stupid and heartless, and calling the way she had treated me devilish. Aunt Bee added, “She has regretted it. Listen to her. She’s the only mother you have.”

I retorted, “She gave birth to me, and I’m grateful for that. Aside from that, I don’t owe her anything, not even forgiveness. She left me alone, so she should continue leaving me alone.”

It had been eighteen years, and I was seeing her for the first time. According to her, her boyfriend had gone to prison because he did exactly what he tried to do to me to another underage girl, and this time around, he was arrested. He had two kids with my mom. She called them my siblings. I told her I had no siblings, since I’d lived my life with no sibling by my side.

I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone

I left that very day. I didn’t want to spend the night and prolong the conversation. My aunt gave her my number. When she called, I blocked her. Now, it is my aunt trying to convince me to forgive my mom, but this heart in my chest beats softly for everything else except her. I don’t want to hear her name or hear anything concerning her. My aunt told me I shouldn’t wait until she dies before I forgive her. I told her I won’t even attend my mom’s funeral.

I could have died when she threw me out at that tender age. I am here because of my aunt, and I am never going to replace her with anything.

—Nina 

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