My elder sister and I are like Siamese Twins, with striking physical resemblance and critical social indulgence. Though six years older, we influence each other in strides, style and street sense. In spite of this tendencies, I hold her in high esteem and I’m mostly in awe of her respect, loyalty and fidelity to her husband, Franklin Davidson. This is partly why I’m filled with regrets when I consider the height of heist, extent of torment and depth of destruction I have brought upon my sister’s hitherto blissful matrimony.
Was it really my fault? I moved to Port Harcourt eight years ago, after my secondary school education in Bonny. My sister received me warmly and we have lived together in one accord though not without occasional hiccups. In other words, she scolded me when necessary. But in all, she was my mentor, my mother figure and my guardian angel.
Unfortunately, in return of her benevolence, I have been beastly and bestial. Oh not so. I think I’m a victim of circumstances.
Her husband is to blame.
I was barely one month old in Port Harcourt when Uncle Frank began to harass me with subtle caresses. At first, I thought he made a mistake when he tapped my buttocks while trying to draw my attention to something. On another occasion, he used his elbow to touch my nipples while walking in front of me. On yet another occasion, he asked for sizes of my bra and pants. That he wanted to do some shopping for me. I politely declined the offer. That was the day I knew he wanted to sleep with me. Initially, I was afraid to tell my sister simply because I didn’t want to create problems in their marriage. Then, he called me aside and said he couldn’t take his eyes off me. I reminded him of who I am to him. Rather than stop, Uncle Frank became frantically audacious with daily harassment. I decided to open up to my sister.
Surprisingly, she didn’t believe me. Instead, she warned me to desist from wearing clothes that could tempt her husband. Her reactions multiplied my fears.
I later gained admission to the university. I heaved a sigh of relief. I thought that leaving the house would put an end to my brother in law’s amorous advances. I was wrong. It actually increased his desperation.
I still remember that fateful morning. My sister and her husband left the house with their children. I was alone, arranging my things ahead of resumption. After putting everything together, I entered the bathroom for a cold shower.
Since I was the only one in the house, I locked the entrance door but didn’t bother to lock my room. I came out of the bathroom nude and met
Uncle Frank naked, rubbing his palm on his turgid dick! I slumped.
By the time I opened my eyes, my brother in law was sweating on top of me, forcibly having sex. The spectacle was frightening. And when he eventually stood up, I noticed that the bedspread was bloodstained. Ha! Uncle Frank had defiled me. I wept inconsolably. He blamed it on the devil, shamelessly prostrated several times and begged me to save his marriage.
Not only that, he washed the bedspread, lifted me from the floor where I was crying, took me to the washroom and bathed me like a baby. Afterwards, he drove me to a nearby pharmacy and bought some drugs for me. He assured me that what happened was a grave mistake and won’t reoccur again. Did I believe him ? Not really? But, somehow, he invaded my heart with unusual generosity. He took my bank account details and transferred one hundred thousand naira (100,000.00) to me for shopping. Yet he personally bought virtually everything I needed for me. He warned me not to tell my sister of the largesse so that she wouldn’t suspect anything. I obliged.
A day before I departed for school, he sent me a text message that he wanted to come home for lunch and to discuss something with me.
Lunch? Discuss with me? Especially when my sister was at work and the children, in school. I smelt a rat. But I resigned to fate.
To my greatest shock, Uncle Frank showed up at home before noon. I didn’t know when I said: ” It’s not yet afternoon sir…I have not prepared your lunch, I’m just about to…” He interrupted me: ” Never Mind, Judith. The discussion is more important than the lunch”
He started by apologising to me and promised to make me forget the agony that he put me through on the first day of sex.
He drew close, kissed me lightly, stealthily tickling my ears and caressing my braids. He unzipped my jean trousers, dipped his hand underneath my pants and I began to pant in helpless surrender. He made love to me on the couch.
That was the turning point. Uncle Frank became my first love. He visited me every weekend and lavished me with cash, care and consumables. On the campus, I was a big girl, feeding fat on sacrilege.
After graduation, I waited at home in anticipation of mobilisation for the National Youth Service Corps, NYSC. We continued our sexual sleaze day and night. Yet my sister didn’t suspect. And I became pregnant! While in school, I had five abortions and so, I vowed never to tread that path again. Besides, Uncle Frank dominated my life and didn’t allow any of my potential relationships to work. I had no boyfriend.
In the midst of my determination no to have an abortion and his confusion on what to do, he hatched a plot. He hired a man who came to pose as my fiancé who lives in Europe.
So, I told my sister that I was pregnant and that my fiancé would come home to see her. She informed her husband. A week later, my rented fiancé showed up and we all acted the script as written and produced by Uncle Frank. My sister fell for it hook, line and sinker.
Six months later, I was delivered of a baby boy. Uncle Frank transferred one million naira to my account, asked me to withdraw the money and pass it to my sister. I told her that my fiancé sent the money for the naming ceremony. Uncle Frank also hired two women who posed as my fiancé’s relatives who participated actively in the naming ceremony. Everything worked out as planned.
Now, I have just moved out of my sister’s house. Uncle Frank has rented a flat for me and our son. As far as my sister is concerned, I’m a lucky girl who has a rich fiancé in Europe. Indeed, she is living in illusion. And me? A classic case of hallucination. I just need the courage to walk up to my sister and end this theatre of the absurd.