I once visited my uncle in Lagos when I was in High School, I think I was about 15 years old, I remember I was in SS1. I was taken to the park for my journey back home by my cousin after my holiday was over, I remember being seated beside an old man, a lot older than my dad at the time, my cousin asked him to look after me as I was traveling alone. Our car broke down as we traveled on and it took a very long time to repair what was wrong, which made us journey into the night, I was so tired and sleepy, everyone was tired. The old man was already fast asleep, or so I thought, so I laid down on his lap and slept off but I can’t remember exactly for how long, I woke up to a hand in my very little breast, tugging and squeezing, I froze and didn’t understand what was happening but he kept pushing at my cloths and rubbing my breast; I sat still and pretended like I didn’t know what was happening, then after a while I stood up and turned away from him to face the aisle in the bus, I never made a sound or confront him but I didn’t turn to his side or sleep in the bus again until the bus got to my town and I got off. I never told anyone but I’ve never forgotten about it and for a long time I felt the imprint of his hands on me, no matter how much I scrubbed I would still feel it and I hated it; but I think hating it made more impact than the actual act because every touch on my skin, no matter how innocent made, me recoil in disgust and people didn’t understand why I always stood far off from everyone. But it’s better now, I actually reach out to hug some people, thank God for time.
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