The Broken Woman: Faults in Our Stars By Blossom Obi | @BlossomObi3

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Darkness, truest darkness is not the absence of light but the conviction that light may never come.

Nobody is perfect, you’re only human that is what we continue to tell ourselves and choosing to revel in your imperfections and weakness believing that we would go far with such mind set. Rather Let us transform that imperfections into something great; something beautiful; something almost perfect.

“ahhhhhhhhh” I screamed in fear and terror, as his body weight buried mine, making my struggle almost useless.

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“Don’t bother, no one can hear you” he whispered, coming close to my already turned face.

This was a mistake coming to see him here, in a hotel, where he usually rested after a program or wanted an alone time with God, but he was my pastor nothing could go wrong and besides he was married with kids. That stupid consolation I got from my thoughts.

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I Knew I was done for, so I began pleading. Maybe he would come to some form of reasoning. “Sir please, please”, I begged with tears rolling down my cheeks, staining my dry face; and my struggle to gain enough balance to pull away seemed futile.

With his shirts already off, I could feel his dark brown skin, bringing more darkness to the terror and as he struggled, his protruding belly rumbled like drums of war. That well-polished skin that usually caught our eyes got wet from sweat as he struggled and instead of glittering, they looked scary like the furs of a lion.

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“Please sir, please, you’re my pastor, please, you’re my pastor”, I continued, his face was blank like a stranger had taken over him; the only bright things; his bulky eyes were just busy interpreting his actions; scaring my strengths away and I could do nothing about it.

“Please sir I’m begging you in the name of God and everything you stand for and hold dear” He didn’t even flinch at tears and sweat grimaced my face and my mind grew numbed from the reality of what was about to happen to me.

The struggle continued as my knee length gown was rolled up against my will and struggle. I turned my body to the right so any activity might not take place as I fought with my whole strength.

That was when he pushed me fast following my direction till I was fully turned and my back facing him, he held me down with his weight. He was of enough body mass, as his weight swallowed mine; I would have suffocated but my mind was too occupied with the other situation.

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My underwear was shifted and a rod-like flesh went into my warmth, as I screamed in tears.

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The night was short lived, thanks to God. But it was like forever to me. I didn’t know what to believe anymore, because all the walls that held my beliefs were broken just like me.

I wanted to die, because I was keeping myself for the man I hoped would be my husband, or some boy that I would love enough to share that part of myself with. My already not too high self-esteem dropped like the sound of thunder on a rainy storm.

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My life slowly drifted as I locked myself up and didn’t attend any lectures the following day. My head ached from all the crying at night and I took aspirin to quell the pain. Nothing made sense anymore, but I was still naive enough to answer when he called.

So I went to see him, after all he was my pastor and there could be a good explanation, and my naive self thought he would be sorry for what he did.

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I was wrong like and I got the shocker of my life because he gave me money saying I should get some contraceptives. He threw the money at face, making me look stupid when I told him I knew nothing about pills.

I sobbed silently as I picked the naira notes, begging him to accompany me. After much begging he obliged. We went to a pharmacy and got the drugs. I trembled as I swallowed each pill.

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Nothing changed much just that I lost zeal and didn’t believe in anything anymore. I became passerby in my own body and I didn’t want to feel any other way because this way helps me understand that everyone is after their own selfish gain, and they just camouflage in pillars, posts and tags.

So yes I am broken and I want to remain that way because nobody would wear my scars better than me.

Unchanged
As if we could turn the hands of time, we are consumed with hate, anger and pain for many things that we have been dealt. It’s almost impossible not to want to give up or give in to hopelessness but because you stand today, make a conscious decision to stand everyday; not because you’re strong but because you’re enough.

You’re enough to pull yourself out of the gutters; you’re enough to scale through and you’re more than enough.

 

Blossom Obi writes from Owerri, Imo State. For comments and responses, reach her via obiblossom8@gmail.com or Twitter/Instagram: @BlossomObi3

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