By Tashinga Wazara, Zimbabwe:
Going to bed that evening, I was restless and uneasy. I knew Michael's father was going to come for me but I didn't know when. Every little sound I heard I thought it was him. I wore jeans to bed. If he was going to come and take advantage of me I figured I might as well make it hard for him. I prayed for my period to come. But knowing that filthy man he still would have violated me anyway. I know you're probably thinking, 'Christina, you're a prostitute. You should be used to sleeping around with different men. This should be easy for you.' But it wasn't because every time I slept with a man, it was always on my terms. I set the conditions. But this time, it wasn't going to be on my terms and it was against my will. It was rape.
I waited for what felt like ages but only turned out to be about an hour then I heard the door open slowly. I heard him creep into my room and buried my head in the pillow bracing myself for what was about to happen. He came and sat on the bed next to me and started rubbing my back. His touch repulsed me and I said, 'Quit the crap and get it over and done with already.' And he said, 'What are you talking about baby?' His voice startled me and I looked up and saw that it wasn't Michael's father but it was actually Michael himself. A huge wave of relief went through my body and I let him into my bed. He was still a bit puzzled by what I had said and he said, 'What did you mean, 'Get it over and done with? What was that all about?' and I said, 'Sorry honey. I think I must have been dreaming because I was having a really bad dream before you came in.' and he said, 'Oh ok. You had me a bit worried there.'
He stayed with me for about an hour and we were just cuddling and talking in the dark until he said, 'Let me go back to my room hun. I don't want my father catching us together.' I didn't want him to go but I had to let him go. He kissed me goodnight and he left. I waited for the creep to come but it seemed he had forgotten or maybe he had changed his mind and so I fell asleep.
In the morning I woke up and the first thing I did was smile. I smiled because my worst fear had not come true. Michael's father had not come into my room and raped me, and now it was too late for him to do any harm to me. Nobody had come into my room and forced me to sleep with them against my terms. I hadn't been raped.
I got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. The house was awfully quiet and I figured that everyone else was still sleeping. It was about 7am. I got into the shower and started shampooing my hair. Suddenly, I was distracted by the sound of the door closing. I opened the shower curtain and saw Michael's father standing there in his boxers. I hadn't locked the door. I screamed and as I did so he started laughing and he said, 'You can scream all you want. Michael and his mom went for a walk so it's just you and me. Now come here!'
He walked up to me and grabbed my arms, forcing me onto the ground. He sat over me and began taking off his boxers. I tried to move but I couldn't. He spread apart my legs began pounding me. I screamed, and screamed and screamed, but it was to no avail. I tried to kick him off and move my arms but he was way too strong. Eventually I stopped screaming and I stopped kicking and lay there like a lifeless corpse with tears streaking down my face. I had flashbacks of when my uncle did this to me when I was five years old. How he had forced me onto the floor of my bedroom and I had screamed but nobody heard me. It was as if today, in this moment, that five year old girl who had her innocence taken away from her far too early was awakened and was screaming for the help she never got but still nobody came to help.
When he was done, he spat in my face and said, 'You dirty whore. You're never going to marry my son.' 'All you're good for is sex, nothing else' His words added to the insult I was already feeling and I felt a lump in my throat that was hard to swallow. He got up and left the bathroom. I also got up and came out of the bathroom and I went to the garage outside. I was angry and for a moment I had completely lost my mind. I was looking for something, anything I could use to beat the living crap out of this man. I just wanted to hurt him.
I got into the garage and looked around and found a metal pole lying in the corner. I took it and went upstairs to Michael's father's room. He was in his bathroom shaving his beard and whistling along to some song in his head and I got in there and as he turned around I hit him on the side of his head. He fell to the ground and while he was still in a daze I hit him again, this time harder. He passed out and in seconds, there was blood everywhere. It was only then that I realized how hard I had hit him. I started freaking out and ran over to him to feel a pulse but there was nothing. He was dead.
I looked around and tried to figure out what I should do. Michael and his mother would be home soon and they couldn't find him like this. I ran to the bathtub and I filled it with water and I dragged his body into the bathtub. I would say he had slipped while getting into the bathtub and hit his head on the bathtub and drowned. I then got some towels and I wiped the blood off the floor and off the walls. I took the metal pole and the bloodied towels, put them in a black bag and went and put them in the trunk of my car. I then ran to my room shaking and crying and, waited.
Michael and his mother came back home; I waited. Moments later I heard Michael's mother screaming and I heard footsteps of Michael rushing to her. When Michael got there I heard him scream, 'Noooooooo!' It was a scream of agonizing pain and grief. It's what I had been waiting for. I rushed out of my room and ran to where they were, in Michael's parents' bedroom. His mother was sitting by the bathtub crying. Michael was standing at the door in a state of shock.
I walked in and as soon as I saw Michael's father I also screamed and I also started crying. 'What happened?' I said, pretending to be distraught. 'I don't know' Michael said, clearly in a daze. I offered my crime scene prognosis: 'I think he fell while he was getting into the bathtub' I said. My words seemed to have snapped Michael out of his daze and he said, 'You know what Christina, I would love to believe that, except that my father hasn't taken a bath in over twenty years…'
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