ILL FATE

by Dahmie

ILL-FATE

There I was, staring at her motionlessly on a hospital bed. Uncontainable memories rushing through me irrepressibly. It was her, I couldn’t believe it.

I shouldn’t have? I shouldn’t have gone for a drive back through the slum where I had run from maybe I wouldn’t be back here, I wouldn’t have come back to the most regrettable moment of my life.

Now here I was, sitting bedside in tears by the innocent girl of 5 years back that I caused dark pains and the memories took over. ILL-FATE!

She had been a carefree young girl; strong-willed and intelligent born to a drunkard who wore out himself by pounding his wife under the force of his fist as compensation for her straightforward advice in a bid to change him but the duo became parted by the cords of death which trapped in one fateful night around the body of it’s next as the strong influence of alcohol took the wheels into a deep canal leaving its auto in ruins, its driver in death and the family; in bitterness leaving the young mother to tussle alone to provide for the toddler.

The kid grew to a beautiful teenager, almost sixteen; who took her next-door neighbour as the big brother that she never had. The associate she could go to for talks, the comrade she could run to for directions, the playmate she could always feel free to be with easily at all times. Unknown to her, a goat and a lion can never be friends, if it isn’t the breakfast; it would sure make it up for dinner. And so it happened that cool evening, I was expecting my partner for a lustful session but I waited all day to receive a call that something came up.

AAAhhh, what is to be done, I was in the mood, my body was full, I have prepared myself, drank my mix to boost myself and then just in the thought, she came in, back from school, wanting me to use my bachelor degree certified knowledge of microbiology to put her through the reproduction assignment from her biology class.

Oh God, why?

Couldn’t it have been something else? Osmosis? Digestive system? Or even respiration because right then, I couldn’t breathe.

I tried to concentrate but the mention of the male genitals having to go into the female reminded me of the great pain I was causing my body by not taking it on the journey I had prepared it for. I was getting uncomfortable in my pants and then the thought came in when she tried to readjust her laying posture and her free gown came to free town, exposing her beautiful ass trapped in the confine stretch of her clean black pants. That was red for the bull. I charged!

It started with some shoulder touching, and before long, I walked my hands to her blossoming bosom and gently squeezed, I wanted to see her reaction, but she didn’t say a word but kept on with her mission. So I thought she was cool, I thought she was in tune, I thought she was game and so I kissed her on her cheek

“Why would you do that?” She beat back

Am sorry; I said apologetically as she wrapped up to leave, being in control became unbearable, I lost it and pulled her by the gown and unto the bed that was the only furniture in my room and quickly laid on top of her. I told her I love her and before she could try to reply, my face was already creating a heat on hers. She pushed me back, but her strength couldn’t tilt me, I pushed my lips further forcefully, she started to resist, I could feel her strength increasing but I was already on top, I moved my face away and she tried to make a scream but I quickly used the pillow to shut her,

I mightily ripped her black pants to tear and saw her beautiful spot, she was clean. I heard her voice increasing, she whimpered “No! Don’t do it, please stop, don’t”

I love you and I would take care of you, I promised emptily and broke the hymen.

She cried all through, she scratched, she punched, she slapped but none stopped the devil in me at work.

It was done, I had done the most dishonoring act I could, and as she laid in tears, weak! in blood. I began to plead, I began to plead but what could my medicine cure after death has taken the confirmation of the deed.

She dragged herself out of my room; weak, broken in pains, wet with tears and blood. I waited for the cavalry to come and persecute, but nothing happened. When the silence had its place, our paths never crossed again. I enquired of her from her non-attentive mother but she said she was only down with acute malaria and needed rest with the self-medication she was already on to.

The shame wouldn’t avail me the confidence to knock on her door. Then I created a new plan. I moved out.

5 years now, fate took its time as our paths drew. I just had to be the driver of the car that knocks her for a ride to the hospital. From her appearance, I could tell she hadn’t lived the kind of life she had dreamed of. She wasn’t looking bright. Her spotless brown skin of then now had cuts and black spots and marks in so many parts while her fingers had discolored; maybe from using cheap and inferior beauty cream or maybe, she was unable to maintain and stopped?

Wait, did she get pregnant? The thought sipped in

It could be because I recall I wasn’t sane enough to pull out, and if she did, did she keep it and let it out into the world or did she terminate it?

Do I have a child?

I kept questioning no one but my shameful self.

She moved, yes I saw her move, and then her eyes flickered and open for our meeting but when it dawned on her, she made out a loud scream pulling up and sinking back into the bed unconscious again, I fidgeted like a leaf in the cold. The nurses dashed in.

“What did happened?” One asked

“What did you do?” The other queried as they checked her vitals

“Am sorry, I RAPED HER”