Moving forward after my last experience. I decided to move to my grandfather’s place. My mother’s father. I felt out of place there at first, I felt like an outsider but l did not have so many options so I had to get comfortable.

I was forced to go to church every Saturday all day SDA, I did not like it. I failed to connect with everything but again, what choice did I have. I was at church a lot, on weekdays too for services and prayer groups. Please note, it was not by choice.

This is where my other story began. l met this quiet young man who was so nice to me and who loved the Lord and served in the church. I loved the choir, I thought I would be a singer one day. He is a fun fact, everybody in that church looks so innocent, believe me when I say that they are not. He always greeted me, I didn’t think much of it. In my eyes, he was a holy man.

One day he approached me and he told me that he liked me. l really didn’t expect it, so in turn, l just ignored it. Besides l still had so much going on in my mind. As time passed l grew closer to this person but it wasn’t on a personal level. It was because of the music, we served in the choir together. That meant practice time and all the church gatherings l used to attend l would see him and he would always be in church. So l started to tell myself that he could be one of the good ones.

Today Netflix & chill will get you in messy situations but what got me into one was choir practice. So one day he asked me to come over for practice, I was naive, I believed that’s all there was to it. I expected to find other people practicing and l thought l would find his family there as well only to find him alone.

For a moment I wanted to believe that he loved me, truly I did. But shortly after, I was uncomfortable with the reality that I was in a closed place with this man, alone. I wanted to go home.

l tried to leave but he was stronger than me l was overpowered. He raped me and apologized. This man had the audacity to apologize and talk about his love for me right after. I couldn’t believe it had happened to me again, I could not bring myself to talk about it cause who was going to believe me? It was my fault anyway, what was I doing there. I cried the whole way home and tried to straighten up when I got to the gate. I didn’t want the questions because I did not have the answers.

l still had to go to church, l still had to see him. He begged me not to say anything and claimed that he loved me. I almost believed him. I missed my period, I was scared and I did not sag anything. My step-grandmother noticed a change in me, they always do. I could not move my lips, I could make a sound. But I had to say something and when it was known that I was pregnant my grandfather decided it would be a great idea to go and dump me at this boys house. Guess who was a wife?

His mother hated me, believed in her son more than anything. In her eyes, I was out to ruin his life and his reputation. Only I saw a monster when I looked into his eyes. So she slaved me, she wanted me to hurt and leave. I wanted to leave but where would I go? I lost hope, I felt unloved, unloveable and unwanted. Where was God in all of this? If he loved me, where was he? So death looked like an option, I drank poison and I was 5 months pregnant by then.

Since I am writing this, you know I survived. And I went back to playing slave, did I mention he had left the country. Relocated to South Africa so I went through this all on my own, with a child. Then one day he called and asked me to join him in South Africa.

I thought this was the beginning of something better in a new land. I saw better days ahead of me, I had a bit of hope. What is hope for a black woman? I met the devil, I stayed with the devil, I woke up next to the devil daily. He beat me up for the smallest of things. He snapped so easily and it was always bad. But what he didn’t know is I was an angry ticking time bomb too.

He tried me one day and I fought back with all I had. That was the worst incident in our ‘marriage.’ It ended in a pool of blood, I had a broken nose and scars. It was horrible, I couldn’t nurse this from home. I had to go to the hospital but I didn’t want to report the case but they couldn’t treat me until I did. Finally, I spoke about it, for the first time.

They opened the case and guess what, nothing happened. The man still walked and lived his life like he had not ruined mine. Like he had not left me living with trauma and filled with fear. He was a free man, I was a bound mother. Then we wonder why women choose to not open cases, I can’t wait for the time when authorities actually take this seriously. Will it ever come!?