chapter 8

I counted my steps silently as I walked home in a bid to distract my mind, in turn to prevent me from crying.

When I got home, greeting my mum normally took the grace of God. In order not to sell myself out, I quickly walked past here, heading to my room before she suspected anything.

I thought I was strong. I deceived myself with;

"If you could handle Samuel perfectly you can handle anything, boy."

But I guess I wasn't as strong as I thought cos I broke down the moment my aching butts touched my bed.

I cried so hard that I was afraid that my parents would hear me across the room, but I didn't care. But then, a part of me was grateful they didn't though.

I skipped dinner and stayed in my room all night. Not that I was hungry anyways.

The next morning when my dad walked into my room to check up on me I guess, I shut my eyes so hard and pretended I was deeply asleep.

For the next few weeks, I withdrew from everyone and everything. But I guess my parents barely noticed since they were barely at home.

I stayed in my room all day, downloaded a bunch of high school series to keep me from turning into a depressed teenager.

I stopped going to church because I couldn't bring myself to.

The thought of going to church and having to face Pastor Ebuka sent shivers down my spine.

For a minute I thought he would call to apologise, send a text or something, but he never did.

I didn't know I had become a good liar until my mum asked why I stopped going to church and I told her;

"My church has a national conference at Lagos, so service won't be held here for a month."

So when the strike got called off by the academic board, I couldn't help but be more grateful for another distraction.

The moment I started school, I made a mental note to mind my business, do what I have to do every day and return to the only place where I was guaranteed safety. My parents' house.

And minding my business included ignoring Andy anytime I saw him in school and pretending he does not exist.

However, I guess my excuse didn't last long as my mum barged into my room on a Sunday morning and ordered me to dress up and go to church immediately.

Apparently, a "concerned" church member that knew my mum stopped her on the road and asked her why I stopped coming to church.

Did I mention that my parents and I attended different churches? Well, now you know.

I wore my clothes grumpily and left the house a few minutes to 10:00 AM.

I got to church just when the sermon was about to begin and the preacher for the day?

Yeah, you guessed right. The dearest Pastor Ebuka. I bet he froze the moment his eyes met mine or maybe not.

Funnily, the topic of his sermon was "The Sin of Fornication." Nice!!

Filled with rage, I watched him preach his heart out, describing fornication with all iota of disgust.

I think I had enough that moment he said "some choir members will involve themselves in an abominable act of fornication and stay away from church because of guilt" and he looked my way.

At this point, I was ready to talk. I was ready to let the leaders of the church know about what he did to me, so I marched confidently to church the next day knowing the pastors usually have their meetings on Mondays.

But before I could step into the church, my phone beeped, signifying a WhatsApp message.

I clicked on my WhatsApp and noticed it was a message from my church forum. The one that had the majority of the church members in it.

Surprisingly, it was from a phone number that has no name and no display picture.

The content of the message?

Pictures of Andy and I lying naked on my parents' couch, cuddled up with each other in the living room and videos showing the used c o n d o m s and lubes.

And yes! My face was boldly shown and displayed in the videos….