When I was about fifteen years old, my aunt’s husband forced himself on me. I was living with them, and through it all, he had been a great guardian. This experience shook the life out of me as a kid. I became a ghost and walked without footprints. The pain was too much, both physical and emotional.

He warned me not to tell anyone or I would die, but the pain was too loud. It started announcing itself to everyone who was watching. My aunt asked what was wrong with me. I said I was fine. She knew from the way I walked that there was something wrong. She took me to the hospital, and it was at that point that I confessed what had happened to me.

My aunt acted like a wounded tigress and charged at her husband. Something that was supposed to remain secret became the talk of the town. I was sent back to my parents, so I didn’t know how the story ended, but later I learned my aunt had left the marriage and pushed her husband out of the house.

Because of this incident, I pulled away from the love of men. Even my own brothers began to show me love, and I was scared of them. I called friends my age who had boyfriends bold. I knew men were dangerous, and keeping one to yourself was like raising a baby tiger. One day, it would consume you.

I folded like Mimosa pudica at the touch of love until Alex came along, touched my wounds carefully, and I opened up slowly to him. I told him my secret, something I had hidden from any man who came close to me. He consoled me like it had happened yesterday, so I found a safe space with him.

I started loving a man, and for the first time, it felt safe. But I wouldn’t agree to intimacy because I was still not sure. The thought of it scared me, but I assured Alex that with time, I would open up. He tried on several occasions, and I said no. He respected my no and let me be. I was growing in confidence to take on other activities in the name of love.

We had gone almost a year without intimacy, and I was clapping for him, calling him the best man I’d ever known, until one day during a kiss, he pushed his hand harder and further beyond my no. I kept telling him to stop, and he kept going. Then he started forcing himself on me, so I had to fight back.

He was strong. All of a sudden, the images of my aunt’s husband started flashing in my mind, so I kicked him in the crotch with my knee, and then he quickly got off.

I realized I’d hurt him, so I started apologizing. He started insulting me and calling me a witch in his life. “Do you think I don’t know you’re pretending? You enjoyed it with your uncle and made him lose his marriage. You think I don’t know you moaned while it was happening? You’re here playing the victim.”

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I was so shocked I couldn’t open my mouth to say anything apart from cry. I rushed out of his place, knowing it was the last time I was going to be there. We didn’t talk for days. To me, what we had was broken beyond measure. To him, it was just an interlude. So he’s here days later asking for one more chance.

After everything he said to me, calling me a witch who destroyed her aunt’s marriage with lies, he’s back and wants me to take him back. Who sold this type of audacity to him? I told him, “The next time you get close, I will report you to the police. What you did was rape.”

—Edith

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