It's funny though, I always find it funny. You know those sarcastic laughs you give yourself when things are completely beyond your control? Yeah, I had one of those on right now. Head aching, mind shattered in little tiny particles as i walked through Ikeja, more confused than a Chicken running in a gridlock of traffic. I knew I was smiling and talking to myself as I walked on. But who cared? Certainly not me. No, screw this! No one cares, why should I? This is completely perfect, just perfect, I was laughing now as I walked past a mosque. Muslim by birth but I never understood the concept of religion, so I usually tell people I'm waiting for God to show himself to me. That had better happen soon as I am not even sure how soon I can hold my centre, prayer they say is the last resort of a scoundrel anyways. I smiled some more as I approached the Ikeja bus top, touched my pocket and realised my wallet was gone, apparently the last person that bumped into me wanted more than a forced hug. I swore beneath my breath. Great Just Great. Luckily my destination was a fairly walkable distance.
I walked towards my Dad's house, it took a while for the Gateman to come open up. I didn't feel too tired but my Legs definitely didn't agree with me. The gateman opened the door after a few more loud bangs on the Gate. He greeted me In his usual casual manner and asked if I had my own keys to enter the house because chief travelled this morning. Travelled? I quizzed. How can he travel? How can he leave me like this? I know my Dad was never around much but the least he could do was provide somewhere for me to sleep. Shit. The gateman continued about it being an urgent trip and would be back on Monday. I didn't get the rest of his talk as I walked towards the house, unsure of what to do with my life. I walked to the backyard there was usually a spare key in a flower pot there, I could swear I was praying out loud that I find that key. Luckily I did. This was the only thing that had gone right this week. I sat in the house a few minutes later, depressed and alone with my thoughts. The last few weeks had gone from bad to worse.
The previous week I had been a writer at a major lifestyle magazine in Nigeria (I'm sorry I can't mention names because of the sensitivity of this story). Relaxed and hardworking, I was constantly busting my ass off for this magazine, despite the measly pay for a magazine of its reputation. I was the youngest writer on the crew, so I was subjected to so much slavery so to speak from everybody else on the magazine's crew, I never complained though, go bring this, go buy that, carry this, carry that. I never complained even never took the occasional insults personal. There were days it got really bad and I got close to the edge but because I believed deeply in karma, and karma states to be able to give bullshit, you must take bullshit (well of course not literally but you get the idea, right?) i still laid back a bit and relaxed. I worked my ass off, day in day out, so I could get a permanent spot on the journalism outfit. My life was centred around not much besides my work at the magazine, school was out on strike, my parents were divorced and didn't seem like they cared much. Dad was constantly travelling as he had done now and Mum lived somewhere in the middle-east and came around Nigeria, once in like every three months. I had siblings I didn't really talk to except I needed money, it's was never really like that but don't judge me. So because of the above stated reasons I was more of a loner by default, despite being ridiculously young, the absence of any major authority in my life accorded me freedom, many Nigerian youths my age could only see in movies (the freedom is overrated by the way, in case you're curious).
I lived with my Boss for the time being, which at that time didn't seem like a bad idea, despite his bi-polarity and his gay sexuality. While I could never be gay in a million years not even for money, I was not a judgemental person, and prejudice was just beyond me. I won't bore you with details I promise. The real drama that had me writing this story started a few weeks ago. I had woken up to my Gay boss coming onto me, for some reason I could not tell if he was super horny or just playing on my complex homophobia. Days before that he had been going on and on about me having to cuddle him, begging me at some instances. I just considered he was trying to get a reaction from me, which I usually gave by way of a smile or a mock sympathetic nod. The night before he had told me I was like a brother to him and some how got me to sleep on the same bed with him. No cuddling or touching just to sleep, so we slept on the same bed, no biggie. But this morning started off weird. He usually didn't get out of bed till about early in the afternoon and I usually didn't get any sleep till anytime after 3:00am, so i automatically had to wake up late too. I was there in the dark room that morning when i felt someone trying to feel my privates from my clothes. I jolted out of my sleep like "What the Fuck?" I could never in a million years imagine he would touch me, I thought we mutually respected each others sexuality to that level. He asked to suck me off, as I tried to joke off the advances, the grips grew stronger and the desperation in his voice and atmosphere had doubled over 10 times. In a short while we were In a full scale quiet tussle as I struggled to get out of the bed. I didn't imagine myself ever getting raped again, i'm 6 ft 1 for fucks sakes as much as I tried to shake off the thought, it's seemed a lot like that was what was about to happen. My boss' bi-polarity causes him to want people around all the time so most of the other people on the crew lived in the house too. The house also make shifted for my boss' home office so i knew at that time of the day, it was not empty and i believed someone will soon hear struggle, but nobody came through the door. I didn't scream yet, because I was still unsure of what was happening or about to happen again. Not Again.. Fuck. Not again
Yes you'll notice I used the word "Again" let me give a short flashback. When I was younger like about 8 years old. My parents travelled for a holiday in the U.K and asked my mum's younger brother who was a medical student at Unilag to look after me and my younger brother. That holiday was the worst 2 weeks of my young life. My pervert Uncle repeatedly molested me, he waited till my younger brother who was not more than 3 years old then, and the house help to sleep. Then he would come to my room and molest me. He would stuff clothes In my mouth so I couldn't scream. I was several times brutally raped and left bleeding. He left Injuries he would also treat by himself and threaten to kill me if I ever told anybody. My life was a living nightmare from a terrible Nigerian movie only, this was not a movie. My young body was battered, and my mental state of mind completely scarred. By the time my parents returned I had become a complete recluse folding into myself, afraid of the world. My self esteem was brutally murdered. It felt like I was dying on the inside. Many a time I even contemplated taking my own life or killing my uncle when I grew up to be strong enough, most times I usually concluded on the former than the latter. By the time i was 13, I had attempted suicide twice. My worried parents had flown me to the U.K one summer. Where I had sessions with a child psychiatrist for the whole of my summer holiday. Till today I don't know if that summer was of any help, the only thing I learnt to do was to repress the memories, not particularly able to forget or get past how weak I was. Although I remember the ruckus I created in the family after my parents read the report from the doctor. Nobody believed me except my parents, my aunties pointed fingers, saying my Mum was trying to destroy the family and was using me as an Instrument.
I t took me time but I slowly recovered from those dark times. Recovered well enough to even abandon my homophobia and live with actual gay people. And now this? The tussle with my Boss continued for a while, till I was able to break free and run out of the room. I had to admit though? Gay people are freakishly strong. My Nose was bleeding and my heart was pounding. I sat in the office area ruffled, nobody there seemed to notice the upset in my eyes or the casual grip on my nose to stop the bleeding, as I greeted everyone casually with a light smile as I panted like I had been running a mile. That night i slept on the couch in the living room, though my boss apologised and promised me my safety. The rest of this weird story unfolded a few days later when a new guy joined the house, he was a tall, bisexual model, funny, witty and very intelligent. The sync between me and the new guy was almost like we had been buddies for ages. What i didn't know though was the new guy was a replacement of sorts for me, since I didn't give in to the sexual needs of my Boss. My boss automatically didn't like the sync between us and felt like threatened by my relationship with the new guy, I didn't even like the new guy beyond guy-guy level, but my boss saw otherwise, because apparently the new guy had been turning down my Boss' advances because he had feelings for me. Wow right?.. I know
The events of that faithful morning had left things tense between me and my Boss so we rarely spoke, but at that point he made life completely unbearable for me and all his actions were drawn towards having me out of his life. His insecurity about who i had told what happened, couldn't let me do it right away. I didn't tell anybody though, I bore it all with a smile, like it was nothing, like I was not afraid or having nightmares or melting on the inside. A few days later I moved out of the Home Office back to my Mum's old house. I came to work from home. Despite that he made my life a living hell. Every single comment i passed was offensive, everything I did was wrong, despite all my work, when a new edition of the magazine was released for that month and none of the numerous articles I had written in the past month and half made the magazine. I was so angry that all my work had gone to waste, I forwarded him an email to air my grievances and that's where I made the mistake. He forwarded the email to the Production Manger and Editor of the Magazine, which would have been fine if he hadn't edited my grief for insults. Insults intended for him and everyone else in the upper positions. Instantly the manager invited me to his office and relived me of work with the magazine without even hearing my version of the story. I had not only according to the mail insulted my superiors, I had also been accused of mismanagement of company funds and plagiarism and would have to report at a police station the next day. I know what you're thinking "Was it that Serious?" Well that was the same thing I asked myself.
I lay here on my bed depressed and disoriented. I had abandoned my Ego and taken all that bullshit for nothing? I let myself be used, dragged about, licked everyone's boots only to lose it all to one one man's sexual greed? The worst part was I knew I had not only lost my Job, I was also afraid to sleep, because I know those nightmares from my young past are here to haunt me again. Worst of all, I have nobody to talk to about it, my parents are not here to fly me to any shrink for professional help. I am here with my thoughts. The same thoughts that drove me to the edge of suicide a few years ago. This is madness. Who do I even tell this story to? Besides I always kept a face with a smile through all this time, who do i tell now that I had been falling apart inside? I am unsure of what I might do to myself in the next few days.
(Based on A Series of Not Too Fictional Events)
Twitter: @ToyeTrill
Dude your story is quite disturbing
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