When we started dating, he told me he liked my place because it was calm and away from the noise, unlike his place. He came around just to sleep some afternoons. On some nights, when he was hiding from someone he didn’t want to meet, he came to hide at my place. I loved his presence because I had the opportunity to be with the man I truly loved. A few months into our relationship, I gave him the spare key so he could come around anytime he wanted.

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Because he had the spare key, he didn’t call to tell me he was coming to my place. One day, I told him, “Sometimes just let me know the time you’ll come around so I can make something for you.” He didn’t. Some days, I would close from work and come to meet him in the hall working.

He had become my co-tenant, and I grew to accept that. He was helping with chores whenever he was around. He even helped with the payment of utilities. I had nothing to complain about but to love him like he deserved to be loved.

One day, he came to my place with a small bag. He said he was coming to spend a week so he could complete a project he was handling. I didn’t complain. After all, he owned my place with me. All week, I cooked and cleaned after him. When he had time to spare, he worked with me and played with me. My house was turning into a home without my knowledge.

One evening, when I waited for a while and he wasn’t coming around, I decided to visit his place because I was bored without his presence. I picked my bag and went to his place without informing him. I saw his car parked in the compound, so I knew he was around. I got there, knocked, and he came out to open. He was smiling when he opened the door, but immediately he saw it was me, he frowned. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

He tried all he could to stop me from entering his room. I suspected there was someone in his room, but when I entered, there was no one there. He wouldn’t allow me to spend the night with him. He was snobbish and confrontational for no reason. He later told me to take my bag so we could go to my place instead.

We got to my place very late that night, and this guy was so sweet to me, as if he wasn’t the same guy who nearly beat me for coming to his place without telling him. He warmed food and served us. He even massaged my feet and apologized for being harsh. We ended up spending the weekend together.

He called one afternoon that he was coming, so I should cook something for him. An hour later, he called to tell me he wasn’t coming because there was an emergency at work he had to handle. I asked if I should bring his food to him at the office, and he said he would manage with what he already had in the fridge.

Late that night, when he texted that he was still in the office and was missing me, I had a crazy idea to go to his office without wearing anything underneath, just to give him a surprise.

I got to his office, and the place was dark. I didn’t see his car either. Just when I was about to call his phone, I saw a man walking through the main gate to the office premises. I asked him, and he said no one had entered the place. “Are you sure?” I asked. He answered, “I’m the security here, so I would know if someone entered.”

Someone wasn’t telling me the truth. I continued to his house, and his car wasn’t parked there either. I walked towards his door and called, and I heard his phone ringing from inside. When he picked up, he said he was still working and would call me later. I said, “I’m at your door. Please open the door for me.”

He pushed the curtains aside to look outside, only to see me waving. He ordered me to turn back and leave. I realized he was trying so hard not to shout. That told me there was someone in there.

I forced myself inside, and he picked me up and threw me outside. It wasn’t an easy battle, but I was determined to see what was happening. When he threw me out, I left his premises, but I didn’t go home. Later, I looked through a hole in the window leading to his bedroom. There were two women sprawled on his bed, and he was between them, doing things I can’t describe with words. I didn’t get the full view, but what I saw was enough for me to piece things together.

I hit his window and started screaming, “I see you. Those girls will not come out today. Stay there with them forever.” I was there until morning, when I saw the ladies walking out. I saw the tattoos on their skin, how dark their lips were, and the mean faces they wore. I couldn’t say a word. I let them go and went inside to meet him, drunk and high on drugs—something I had never witnessed from him.

Those two women were prostitutes he picked from the street. “So you did it with them raw?” I asked, scared. He answered, “How is that your problem?”

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I came home and scrubbed my body like I’d fallen into a gutter. The next day, I went to the hospital to check for HIV and other STDs. I didn’t have any. I changed my door locks and warned him never to get close to me again.

I didn’t see him for several weeks until one day he called to say he was a changed person. Those kinds of girls were his addiction, but he had prayed and God had rescued him. I told him, “Then go and join God’s sheep in the pen and leave me alone.”

—Brago  

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