The Night Of Recokoning

Roslin's voice trembled as she began to share her haunting truth. "My cousin… he found out about what my uncle was doing to me. Instead of helping, he joined in. He molested me too." Her hands tightened in her lap, her voice growing distant. "My dad was brought home from the hospital by my uncle, but he was… he wasn't the same. He looked… lifeless, almost half dead. My uncle became the only provider because my dad couldn't do anything." She swallowed hard, the weight of her memories pressing down on her. "He barely fed us, me and my dad. Sometimes, I'd have to borrow garri just so we could eat."

Roslin shifted uncomfortably, reliving the painful recollections. "A year passed. I was fourteen then… that's when things got much worse. One night, my uncle was out, but my cousin came home. My dad was asleep next to me, and I was ready—ready in case my cousin tried anything. I slept holding a fork…" Her voice faltered, her eyes staring into space, lost in the darkness of that night. "When I felt his hands on me, I just… I just started stabbing him. Over and over."

She tightened her grip on the edge of the chair, trembling as the memory surged back. "He screamed… but I didn't stop. It was too dark to see his face, only his silhouette. My dad woke up… but all he could do was lie there, shivering. By the time I stopped… my cousin was lying in a pool of his own blood, barely breathing."

Mrs. Agbor leaned forward, her eyes wide in shock. "Did he… die?"

Roslin shook her head, her voice hollow. "No… he didn't die. But he was in so much pain, he passed out." Tears filled her eyes, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief. "Then I heard my dad… he was choking. I lost him that night."

As the tears streamed down her face, the garden fell silent, the gravity of her words hanging in the air.

Roslin broke down, her face buried in her hands as sobs escaped her. The weight of her memories pressed down on her like an unbearable burden.

Mrs. Agbor reached out, gently patting Roslin's shoulder. "Oh, my dear… I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice soft and comforting.

Roslin's voice was muffled through her tears. "I couldn't stay. I knew my uncle would kill me if he found out what I did to his son. So I ran… I ran that night and didn't look back." She sighed heavily, wiping her tears away with trembling hands. "I found shelter in a bar on the next street, and that's where I slept."

Mrs. Agbor frowned in concern. "And in the morning?"

"That's when Cuban found me," Roslin replied, a flicker of something perhaps nostalgia passing over her face.

"Cuban?" Mrs. Agbor asked, her confusion evident.