Fatherless
Episode Nine
The three of them took tūrns on me, passing me to one another until they got tired.
Then they opened the door and left the house, leaving me to my fate.
I was completely speechless, shutting myself out of the cruēl world I was in.
I went to the wardrobe, locked myself in, and cried myself to sleep.
I felt unbearable pain down there, so I managed to boil water and used it to find some relief.
I had lost my strength, and there was no food in the house to eat.
I went and knocked on my neighbor’s door.
The woman had been kind to me since I came to the house.
I explained everything to her, and she gave me food to eat.
Then she said, “Go to the police station and report to them.
Just tell any car to take you to the nearest police station, and when you get there, explain what happened to them.
When you’re done, I’ll give you money to go to the hospital and run a test.'”
She was crying while saying this, imagining why a young boy should be treated that way.
After I ate, I went inside the house, thinking about going to the policē stātion the next day.
I kept asking myself questions like, “Will they believe me because I’m not a girl? How do I even tell them?”
I vividly remembered what the women told me, that nobody would believe me if I tried repōrting the case.
Because people don’t believe boys when they say they were rāped.
I burst into tears. Then my aunt came back and saw me crying in a corner when she stepped into the house.
I asked her, “Why did you leave me in the hands of those wickēd aunties?”
I asked her, knowing that whatever happens, I was ready for the wōrst.
She looked at me for the first time, and I could feel in her eyes that she felt bad.
She came over to where I was sitting, and I shifted back, shivering.
She examined me closely and then asked, “What did they do to you?”
I had to let it out. With tears flowing from my eyes, I said, “They rāpēd me.”
My aunt was shāttered, and I could sense it.
That was the first time she ever felt bad for me.
She didn’t say any more words. Instead, she dropped her bags and left the house.
She couldn’t even look me in the face again.
She didn’t come back that day again, and I knew it might have been hard for her to face me.
Early the next morning, before anyone else woke up, I had already broken my little savings box where I saved money.
I was planning to use it to move out of the house.
I used the money to pay my way to the police station.
I didn’t even know where I was going, but I told the driver to stop at the nearest police station.
He did, and I also looked for a signpost with my eyes.
I got off and went inside the police station, but it wasn’t open.
I had to wait for them to arrive
. When they finally did, one officer saw me and asked, “Little boy, are you strānded?
Is there any way I can help you?”
At that moment, I felt like help had come, so I told him, “I want to open a rāpe case, sir.”
He looked at me, seeming confused and checking if I was with someone else.
Then he called another police officer so it wouldn’t seem like he was hearing things.
He told the man everything, and then he asked again, “Where is the girl that was rāpēd?”
I replied, “I’m the one that was rāped, not a girl. Some women rāpēd me.”
He lost control, while the other officer laughed at me.
He said, “Does this police station look like a joke to you?
How can a man with something down there be rāped by a woman?”
At that point, I knew nothing could be done, and I wouldn’t get the justice I needed.
The other one asked me, “What’s your name and how old are you?”
I felt like he was willing to help me, so I told him, “My name is Nathan, and I’m fourteen years old.”
They both looked at each other and started laughing, calling me “Nathan.”
Then, when I turned to leave, one of them asked, “Are you trying to tell us that you didn’t enjoy it?”
That was the silliēst question someone has ever asked me.
I just walked away while they continued to laugh, even calling other police officers to join in.
I took another car home without talking to anyone.
I went inside and slept, feeling seriously āngry at the world.
Early the next morning, my aunt came again, but this time with good news.
She walked slowly and said, “Your father won’t let me rest.
He cries everywhere I go, asking me to return you to your mom.
I can’t stand the tears anymore.
Go inside the house and get your things. I’m taking you back home.”
I felt a sense of bliss, as if someone had poured cold water on my head.
Thessycute Ekene
