18: an

An instruction from heaven. Trust and obey for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus than to trust and obey.

*Wink wink*

"Bless me father for I have sinned. Its been eight months since my last confession." I told the priest, after he made the sign of the cross. His head was bowed down, as if he knew what sins I was about to confess.

"My sins are lying, being disobedient..." My breath had caught in my mouth, "and fornication."

An image of Somto comes to mind as I say this last part. He was my first love.

The first time we kissed, was at the back of my mother's shop. My mother owned a big restaurant and he was a regular customer, always coming with his BMW to buy akpu and onugbu soup. Then he would finish it off with a bottle of beer, Star. Other days he would request for take away and would go wherever he goes to eat it. On some occasions if he had change left, he would ask me to keep it. Then we would talk till he had to go or my mother called me.

He had come to put on the generator. My mother must have begged him to do it because Ahmed the errand boy was not around. He was shocked to see me but when he recovered, he came closer to me then went on to tell me how beautiful I am and how he enjoyed our little conversations.

He bent his head down till our lips touched. I had stood still and when he stuck his tongue out, I parted my lips, granting him access. He had tasted of beer.

"The Lord doesn't want us to be far away from him..."

My head was bowed down now, in shame.

The first time we had done the deed, I had cried. It had been painful, blood on the bedsheets of The hotel we had stayed in. The romance novels I read had lied, it wasn't pleasurable. My thighs felt sore after that. When my mother asked why I kept walking a certain way, I told her I started a new exercise and earned a suspicious look from her.

We did it again, and again until it became a part of us. Sheraton Hotel being our favourite hideaway.

One night, he called me. He was in front of my house. He needed to travel, something had come up. We had done it in the car. It was the last time we did it. He had died in a car accident.

"For your penance, say the..." The priest continued.

I met Ozor two weeks after Somto's death. He had come to our shop and had ordered for akpu and onugbu soup with Star. Whenever he did come, I would avoid him. He reminded me of Somto, the way he would raise his hand up to call Ahmed's attention or the way he said thank you when paying for his meal.

When we did it, it barely lasted 10 minutes. There had been no kisses or soft spoken words. I had felt so much guilt and avoided him soon after.

A few weeks later, my mother began to ask why I was always sleeping. My friends said I lookedfresher. I read no meaning into it until I missed my period. I called Ozor out of fear, who told me he wasn't ready for a child.

The next day, I was in a hospital.

"Its normal to have late periods. As a result of stress, too much thinking, our period can be delayed. Sometimes for as long as three months." The female doctor on seat had explained to me.

"Are you sexually active?"

"Yes." I replied after finding my voice

"I wonder why you young girls have unprotected sex when you are not ready for what might come out of it."

Head down, I thanked her and took my leave. She had refused payment, saying she hoped I would be more careful.

The priest lips moved, "I absorb you ... In the name of the Father ..."

The kneeler creaked under my weight as I stood up.

The next time and other times Ozor called I didn't pick.

* * *

"Bless me father for I have sinned. Its been eight months since my last confession." I told the priest, after he made the sign of the cross. His head was bowed down, as if he knew what sins I was about to confess.

"My sins are lying, being disobedient..." My breath had caught in my mouth, "and fornication."

An image of Somto comes to mind as I say this last part. He was my first love.

The first time we kissed, was at the back of my mother's shop. My mother owned a big restaurant and he was a regular customer, always coming with his BMW to buy akpu and onugbu soup. Then he would finish it off with a bottle of beer, Star. Other days he would request for take away and would go wherever he goes to eat it. On some occasions if he had change left, he would ask me to keep it. Then we would talk till he had to go or my mother called me.

He had come to put on the generator. My mother must have begged him to do it because Ahmed the errand boy was not around. He was shocked to see me but when he recovered, he came closer to me then went on to tell me how beautiful I am and how he enjoyed our little conversations.

He bent his head down till our lips touched. I had stood still and when he stuck his tongue out, I parted my lips, granting him access. He had tasted of beer.

"The Lord doesn't want us to be far away from him..."

My head was bowed down now, in shame.

The first time we had done the deed, I had cried. It had been painful, blood on the bedsheets of The hotel we had stayed in. The romance novels I read had lied, it wasn't pleasurable. My thighs felt sore after that. When my mother asked why I kept walking a certain way, I told her I started a new exercise and earned a suspicious look from her.

We did it again, and again until it became a part of us. Sheraton Hotel being our favourite hideaway.

One night, he called me. He was in front of my house. He needed to travel, something had come up. We had done it in the car. It was the last time we did it. He had died in a car accident.

"For your penance, say the..." The priest continued.

I met Ozor two weeks after Somto's death. He had come to our shop and had ordered for akpu and onugbu soup with Star. Whenever he did come, I would avoid him. He reminded me of Somto, the way he would raise his hand up to call Ahmed's attention or the way he said thank you when paying for his meal.

When we did it, it barely lasted 10 minutes. There had been no kisses or soft spoken words. I had felt so much guilt and avoided him soon after.

A few weeks later, my mother began to ask why I was always sleeping. My friends said I lookedfresher. I read no meaning into it until I missed my period. I called Ozor out of fear, who told me he wasn't ready for a child.

The next day, I was in a hospital.

"Its normal to have late periods. As a result of stress, too much thinking, our period can be delayed. Sometimes for as long as three months." The female doctor on seat had explained to me.

"Are you sexually active?"

"Yes." I replied after finding my voice

"I wonder why you young girls have unprotected sex when you are not ready for what might come out of it."

Head down, I thanked her and took my leave. She had refused payment, saying she hoped I would be more careful.

The priest lips moved, "I absorb you ... In the name of the Father ..."

The kneeler creaked under my weight as I stood up.

The next time and other times Ozor called I didn't pick.

* * *

"Bless me father for I have sinned. Its been eight months since my last confession." I told the priest, after he made the sign of the cross. His head was bowed down, as if he knew what sins I was about to confess.

"My sins are lying, being disobedient..." My breath had caught in my mouth, "and fornication."

An image of Somto comes to mind as I say this last part. He was my first love.

The first time we kissed, was at the back of my mother's shop. My mother owned a big restaurant and he was a regular customer, always coming with his BMW to buy akpu and onugbu soup. Then he would finish it off with a bottle of beer, Star. Other days he would request for take away and would go wherever he goes to eat it. On some occasions if he had change left, he would ask me to keep it. Then we would talk till he had to go or my mother called me.

He had come to put on the generator. My mother must have begged him to do it because Ahmed the errand boy was not around. He was shocked to see me but when he recovered, he came closer to me then went on to tell me how beautiful I am and how he enjoyed our little conversations.

He bent his head down till our lips touched. I had stood still and when he stuck his tongue out, I parted my lips, granting him access. He had tasted of beer.

"The Lord doesn't want us to be far away from him..."

My head was bowed down now, in shame.

The first time we had done the deed, I had cried. It had been painful, blood on the bedsheets of The hotel we had stayed in. The romance novels I read had lied, it wasn't pleasurable. My thighs felt sore after that. When my mother asked why I kept walking a certain way, I told her I started a new exercise and earned a suspicious look from her.

We did it again, and again until it became a part of us. Sheraton Hotel being our favourite hideaway.

One night, he called me. He was in front of my house. He needed to travel, something had come up. We had done it in the car. It was the last time we did it. He had died in a car accident.

"For your penance, say the..." The priest continued.

I met Ozor two weeks after Somto's death. He had come to our shop and had ordered for akpu and onugbu soup with Star. Whenever he did come, I would avoid him. He reminded me of Somto, the way he would raise his hand up to call Ahmed's attention or the way he said thank you when paying for his meal.

When we did it, it barely lasted 10 minutes. There had been no kisses or soft spoken words. I had felt so much guilt and avoided him soon after.

A few weeks later, my mother began to ask why I was always sleeping. My friends said I lookedfresher. I read no meaning into it until I missed my period. I called Ozor out of fear, who told me he wasn't ready for a child.

The next day, I was in a hospital.

"Its normal to have late periods. As a result of stress, too much thinking, our period can be delayed. Sometimes for as long as three months." The female doctor on seat had explained to me.

"Are you sexually active?"

"Yes." I replied after finding my voice

"I wonder why you young girls have unprotected sex when you are not ready for what might come out of it."

Head down, I thanked her and took my leave. She had refused payment, saying she hoped I would be more careful.

The priest lips moved, "I absorb you ... In the name of the Father ..."

The kneeler creaked under my weight as I stood up.

The next time and other times Ozor called I didn't pick.

* * *

"Bless me father for I have sinned. Its been eight months since my last confession." I told the priest, after he made the sign of the cross. His head was bowed down, as if he knew what sins I was about to confess.

"My sins are lying, being disobedient..." My breath had caught in my mouth, "and fornication."

An image of Somto comes to mind as I say this last part. He was my first love.

The first time we kissed, was at the back of my mother's shop. My mother owned a big restaurant and he was a regular customer, always coming with his BMW to buy akpu and onugbu soup. Then he would finish it off with a bottle of beer, Star. Other days he would request for take away and would go wherever he goes to eat it. On some occasions if he had change left, he would ask me to keep it. Then we would talk till he had to go or my mother called me.

He had come to put on the generator. My mother must have begged him to do it because Ahmed the errand boy was not around. He was shocked to see me but when he recovered, he came closer to me then went on to tell me how beautiful I am and how he enjoyed our little conversations.

He bent his head down till our lips touched. I had stood still and when he stuck his tongue out, I parted my lips, granting him access. He had tasted of beer.

"The Lord doesn't want us to be far away from him..."

My head was bowed down now, in shame.

The first time we had done the deed, I had cried. It had been painful, blood on the bedsheets of The hotel we had stayed in. The romance novels I read had lied, it wasn't pleasurable. My thighs felt sore after that. When my mother asked why I kept walking a certain way, I told her I started a new exercise and earned a suspicious look from her.

We did it again, and again until it became a part of us. Sheraton Hotel being our favourite hideaway.

One night, he called me. He was in front of my house. He needed to travel, something had come up. We had done it in the car. It was the last time we did it. He had died in a car accident.

"For your penance, say the..." The priest continued.

I met Ozor two weeks after Somto's death. He had come to our shop and had ordered for akpu and onugbu soup with Star. Whenever he did come, I would avoid him. He reminded me of Somto, the way he would raise his hand up to call Ahmed's attention or the way he said thank you when paying for his meal.

When we did it, it barely lasted 10 minutes. There had been no kisses or soft spoken words. I had felt so much guilt and avoided him soon after.

A few weeks later, my mother began to ask why I was always sleeping. My friends said I lookedfresher. I read no meaning into it until I missed my period. I called Ozor out of fear, who told me he wasn't ready for a child.

The next day, I was in a hospital.

"Its normal to have late periods. As a result of stress, too much thinking, our period can be delayed. Sometimes for as long as three months." The female doctor on seat had explained to me.

"Are you sexually active?"

"Yes." I replied after finding my voice

"I wonder why you young girls have unprotected sex when you are not ready for what might come out of it."

Head down, I thanked her and took my leave. She had refused payment, saying she hoped I would be more careful.

The priest lips moved, "I absorb you ... In the name of the Father ..."

The kneeler creaked under my weight as I stood up.

The next time and other times Ozor called I didn't pick.

* * *

"Bless me father for I have sinned. Its been eight months since my last confession." I told the priest, after he made the sign of the cross. His head was bowed down, as if he knew what sins I was about to confess.

"My sins are lying, being disobedient..." My breath had caught in my mouth, "and fornication."

An image of Somto comes to mind as I say this last part. He was my first love.

The first time we kissed, was at the back of my mother's shop. My mother owned a big restaurant and he was a regular customer, always coming with his BMW to buy akpu and onugbu soup. Then he would finish it off with a bottle of beer, Star. Other days he would request for take away and would go wherever he goes to eat it. On some occasions if he had change left, he would ask me to keep it. Then we would talk till he had to go or my mother called me.

He had come to put on the generator. My mother must have begged him to do it because Ahmed the errand boy was not around. He was shocked to see me but when he recovered, he came closer to me then went on to tell me how beautiful I am and how he enjoyed our little conversations.

He bent his head down till our lips touched. I had stood still and when he stuck his tongue out, I parted my lips, granting him access. He had tasted of beer.

"The Lord doesn't want us to be far away from him..."

My head was bowed down now, in shame.

The first time we had done the deed, I had cried. It had been painful, blood on the bedsheets of The hotel we had stayed in. The romance novels I read had lied, it wasn't pleasurable. My thighs felt sore after that. When my mother asked why I kept walking a certain way, I told her I started a new exercise and earned a suspicious look from her.

We did it again, and again until it became a part of us. Sheraton Hotel being our favourite hideaway.

One night, he called me. He was in front of my house. He needed to travel, something had come up. We had done it in the car. It was the last time we did it. He had died in a car accident.

"For your penance, say the..." The priest continued.

I met Ozor two weeks after Somto's death. He had come to our shop and had ordered for akpu and onugbu soup with Star. Whenever he did come, I would avoid him. He reminded me of Somto, the way he would raise his hand up to call Ahmed's attention or the way he said thank you when paying for his meal.

When we did it, it barely lasted 10 minutes. There had been no kisses or soft spoken words. I had felt so much guilt and avoided him soon after.

A few weeks later, my mother began to ask why I was always sleeping. My friends said I lookedfresher. I read no meaning into it until I missed my period. I called Ozor out of fear, who told me he wasn't ready for a child.

The next day, I was in a hospital.

"Its normal to have late periods. As a result of stress, too much thinking, our period can be delayed. Sometimes for as long as three months." The female doctor on seat had explained to me.

"Are you sexually active?"

"Yes." I replied after finding my voice

"I wonder why you young girls have unprotected sex when you are not ready for what might come out of it."

Head down, I thanked her and took my leave. She had refused payment, saying she hoped I would be more careful.

The priest lips moved, "I absorb you ... In the name of the Father ..."

The kneeler creaked under my weight as I stood up.

The next time and other times Ozor called I didn't pick.

* * *

"Bless me father for I have sinned. Its been eight months since my last confession." I told the priest, after he made the sign of the cross. His head was bowed down, as if he knew what sins I was about to confess.

"My sins are lying, being disobedient..." My breath had caught in my mouth, "and fornication."

An image of Somto comes to mind as I say this last part. He was my first love.

The first time we kissed, was at the back of my mother's shop. My mother owned a big restaurant and he was a regular customer, always coming with his BMW to buy akpu and onugbu soup. Then he would finish it off with a bottle of beer, Star. Other days he would request for take away and would go wherever he goes to eat it. On some occasions if he had change left, he would ask me to keep it. Then we would talk till he had to go or my mother called me.

He had come to put on the generator. My mother must have begged him to do it because Ahmed the errand boy was not around. He was shocked to see me but when he recovered, he came closer to me then went on to tell me how beautiful I am and how he enjoyed our little conversations.

He bent his head down till our lips touched. I had stood still and when he stuck his tongue out, I parted my lips, granting him access. He had tasted of beer.

"The Lord doesn't want us to be far away from him..."

My head was bowed down now, in shame.

The first time we had done the deed, I had cried. It had been painful, blood on the bedsheets of The hotel we had stayed in. The romance novels I read had lied, it wasn't pleasurable. My thighs felt sore after that. When my mother asked why I kept walking a certain way, I told her I started a new exercise and earned a suspicious look from her.

We did it again, and again until it became a part of us. Sheraton Hotel being our favourite hideaway.

One night, he called me. He was in front of my house. He needed to travel, something had come up. We had done it in the car. It was the last time we did it. He had died in a car accident.

"For your penance, say the..." The priest continued.

I met Ozor two weeks after Somto's death. He had come to our shop and had ordered for akpu and onugbu soup with Star. Whenever he did come, I would avoid him. He reminded me of Somto, the way he would raise his hand up to call Ahmed's attention or the way he said thank you when paying for his meal.

When we did it, it barely lasted 10 minutes. There had been no kisses or soft spoken words. I had felt so much guilt and avoided him soon after.

A few weeks later, my mother began to ask why I was always sleeping. My friends said I lookedfresher. I read no meaning into it until I missed my period. I called Ozor out of fear, who told me he wasn't ready for a child.

The next day, I was in a hospital.

"Its normal to have late periods. As a result of stress, too much thinking, our period can be delayed. Sometimes for as long as three months." The female doctor on seat had explained to me.

"Are you sexually active?"

"Yes." I replied after finding my voice

"I wonder why you young girls have unprotected sex when you are not ready for what might come out of it."

Head down, I thanked her and took my leave. She had refused payment, saying she hoped I would be more careful.

The priest lips moved, "I absorb you ... In the name of the Father ..."

The kneeler creaked under my weight as I stood up.

The next time and other times Ozor called I didn't pick.