My pulse keeps racing as the weight of what I’ve done keeps dawning on me afresh. I can still hear them rejoicing and laughing from the dining. They don’t know what I have done.

I stand over the gas cooker, peering into the pot of soup, shaking as the single phrase that chills my blood continues replaying in my head.

I have done something terrible.

I’m a murderer.

My name is Mosuirat and when you read this in the newspaper tomorrow, you’re going to hate me. I don’t expect you to understand but I have to explain myself, explain what pushed me down this one-way road of no return so that my story can serve as a lesson to the world about the wickedness that resides in the heart of man and how a beautiful soul was turned dark and a kind hearted girl was turned into a murderer.

Okay, I don’t have much time. Before I let the emotions overcome me let me sit down and tell you my story.




::::::::::::

I come from a village in Osun State, Nigeria. My parents had more children than money and my earliest years growing up was filled with so much memories of sleeping hungry and waking with tummy aches carried all through the night. But I was happy.

I had brothers and sisters and we would play together and run round the compound and at night we took turns in telling stories under mango tree while the moonlight provided a luminescent illumination that seemed to add some kind of flavour to the night’s tales.
I was the youngest child of my parents. I had 3 elder sisters and 4 brothers and right from the moment I could walk, I was expected to contribute my own quota to the family growth.

My parents had a farmland and our daily routine was simple enough; go to the farm and till the soil, water the earth, harvest the crops. It all depended on the stage and the season of the crops.
Other days I assisted my mother in our shop where she sold provisions. But sadly, the business was not really moving. We didn’t get as much customers as we normally should have because our next door neighbour also had a shop. And two houses down, there was another shop. They both sold the same goods we did and more. Their shops were even much bigger than ours, more attractive and painted with bright colours with the goods arranged and displayed in a beautiful manner that just seemed to call to the customers, while ours was a rundown shop with peeling paint and cracks in the walls. If I were to be a customer, I know where I’ll be going to buy the things I needed. Still I loved our little shop. I would arrange the Coca-Cola bottles in the crate, imagining they were my pupils and I was their teacher. I had a dream to be a teacher, to educate little children and tell them that no matter how poor they were or where they came from, they didn’t have to let the background define them, they could still change their lives and make it better.

I attended the community school a stone’s throw away from my home and my father decided my daily trips to the farm be suspended till weekends. And so every afternoon after school, I stayed in the shop with my sister while my mother went to town to run some errands.

The woman who would change my life came to the shop on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. After school, I had gone straight to the shop as usual so I was still in my uniform, hunched over the broken fridge in the corner as I tried to tackle the quantitative reasoning homework our teacher had given us. I liked math and always enjoyed calculating our customer’s bill and subtracting their change from the cost.

I was hungry, I hadn’t eaten that day and until my mother came back from the market to cook, there was nothing I could do but wait. Although I could easily take one of the biscuits we sold in the shop, but the last time I had done that, my mother had given me a thorough beating for stealing. After my tears had died down, she had hugged me and told me not to cry anymore, that all I had to do was ask. She said she didn’t want me to grow to be a thief and from that day she frequently bought little treats for me from the market.
Till today I don’t know how she found out about the biscuit I stole but no matter how hungry I got, I always preferred to wait for her, knowing she would get me something and if she didn’t, I only had to ask. Besides they had taught me in my social studies class about stealing and I never wanted to be a thief, never!

On that faithful day, I was alone in the shop. My eldest sister Simbiat always left me to go God knows where every afternoon, but she always came back before my mother returned from the market, making my mother think she had been in the shop all along. I suspected she went to see a boy because he had accompanied her back once. I didn’t understand what she saw in boys, they were rough and dirty and always insulting the girls in my school. But my sister didn’t share my thoughts about them, so I was usually alone in the shop for two hours every afternoon.

I was cracking my head over the quantitative exercise, tapping my pencil on my head when the jeep drove to the front of the shop. The shiny colour of the vehicle caught my attention immediately and I shut my textbook as I admired the way the sun glinted on the gleaming red surface.

The moment the woman got down, I began to fear. I don’t know why, I don’t know what it was about her but I found myself wishing she wasn’t coming to our shop but would pass and go to the more attractive and neatly arranged shop of our neighbour. But she proved me wrong and approached our shop. I got up immediately and smiled just as my mother always instructed me. A friendly service would always bring the customer back, again and again.

So I smiled, looking at the woman as she approached. She removed her glasses slowly and her eyes almost caused my smile to disappear. There was something in her eyes. Something hard that made me want to run away. But I was determined to make the sale so I greeted her, “Good afternoon ma”

She swept my whole length with her eyes and looked round the scanty shop. She didn’t seem impressed, by either of us. “Are you the only one here?”

“Yes ma, my mother went out”

“Hmmm….” she looked at me and I began to feel uneasy. “What’s your name?” she asked

“Mosuirat ma.” I replied

“Mosuirat, how old are you?”

“I’m 11 years old ma”

“hmmm……and you’re handling this shop. Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes ma, I know the prices of everything.”

“hmmmm….okay I want to buy eggs.”

She continued watching me with her narrow eyes as I selected our freshest eggs for her. When she was done, she gave me a thousand naira note and instructed me to keep the change.

I was overjoyed. I watched her walk back to her car and even waved at her when she looked back once more. Later, I told my sister about the woman with the wicked eyes and the kind heart and how she had left over 800naira behind which was about half the week’s profit in one single day.

My mother was also overjoyed when she came back and she gave me not one, but two biscuits from the shelf.

I slept happily that night.

:::::::::::
The rest of the week went on as usual; I went to school in the morning and kept watch in the shop in the afternoon. Saturdays were spent in the farm. It was hard work, digging the soil and pulling out the cassava root crops and piling it into the basket but I loved it. It was my favourite day of the week because I got to play with my brothers and sisters.

That Saturday, I was running around with my empty basket on my head, laughing and shouting while my brothers clapped and drummed on theirs and my sisters sang. We may not have had much, we were yet to even eat breakfast but we were happy.

When my mother burst onto the clearing, the singing stopped immediately and we all scattered to our respective spots, feigning serious devotion to our duties. But my mother didn’t scold us or pay us any attention. She had a spring in her step and a glint in her eye as she shouted my name and beckoned me to follow her.

“Mosu, God has finally answered our prayers….come with me, drop the basket.” She held my hands and walked briskly and I had to skip to keep up with her.

“Mama what is going on?”

“My child you’re going to have a better life….a family has come for you, they will take you to the city and provide quality education for you and take good care of you.”

“But mama I don’t want to go” I tugged her hand and she held me fast.

“Look here Mosu, I’m your mother and I know what is best for you. Do you know how many people are looking for this opportunity God has decided to bless you with?”

I was silent.

“Now when we get to the shop, I want you to be on your best behavior okay?”

I nodded solemnly and she hugged me, “it is well my child.”

From the distance I could see the very same Jeep I had seen earlier in the week. It still gleamed in the early Saturday sun and I suddenly knew who had come for me.

The woman sat on the only chair in the shop while another man leaned on our broken fridge. My father was standing in the corner, still in his singlet, his skin caked with the patches of sweat that had dried at different stages that morning. He looked nervous and was shuffling his feet nervously. I did not like to see him like that. When we entered the shop he gave a sigh of relief; “Oh there she is. Mosuirat, these nice people are here because of you”

“Good afternoon ma, good afternoon sir.” I knelt down as a sign of respect.

“Oh, what wonderful manners,” the man said and when I looked at him, I felt a great fear at the way his eyes narrowed at me. I quickly looked away and my eyes ran into the glare of the woman. Her eyes were still hard but she had a thin smile. It was not comforting but scary.

I didn’t want to go with these people.

“Okay honey. I guess we’ll take her.” The man said and straightened up.

The woman he called ‘honey’ also stood up from the chair. She turned to my mother, “we’ll be here tomorrow morning, please ensure she’s ready."

“Yes ma,” my mother half knelt in gratitude and I didn’t like it either. I didn’t like the way my parents were shaking at the sight of these rich people with the wicked eyes.

I watched the four of them as they left the shop, irritated at the way my mother kept bowing her head in reverence and the way my father kept shuffling his feet. Still I wondered what was really going on.

Then I saw the man bring out a wad of money and count it before handing it to my father, who also half bowed in gratitude.

I held my head with both hands as a feeling of trepidation came over me. Did my parents just sell me?

:::::::
Moving to Lagos was like a dream come true. A dream I never knew I had. The drive was a quiet one and I tried my best not to cry as I remembered the teary goodbyes I had shared with my siblings that morning. I missed them already. I wondered when I would see them again.

But then; the buildings began to catch my fancy, the people standing at the road, dressed colourfully, the cars and bikes, the yellow and black buses, the young men standing on the road, collecting money from the buses, the numerous colourful signboards. It was something I had never seen before in my life. For the first time, I began to feel I was really lucky. What did my mother say earlier; that a lot of people dreamt of this kind of opportunity and here I was, in Lagos to live the dream.

But I would come to learn that there are dreams and there are nightmares.


I was to call her madam, and call him Oga. I was to wake up every morning by 4 o’clock and sweep the compound and mop the floors, rewash the dishes I washed the night before and wipe the furniture in the house till it sparkled. Then I was to wash the clothes I had soaked the night before, wash the toilets and bathroom so that Madam and Oga could have their bath. If I performed my duties diligently, then they would send me to the public school in the neighbourhood. If I kept on with my duties without slacking and making mistakes, then they would withdraw me and place me in a private school.

“We don’t want any useless liability in this house, am I clear?” Madam snapped after telling me my duties. I nodded hurriedly.

My instructions were very clear and it became my mantra, chanted over and over along with the multiplication table they had taught me in my former school.

The first few weeks I started living with them, I cried myself to sleep most times because I missed my family, missed my sisters and my brothers and missed my parents.

I performed my duties because Madam had a temper. She never hit me but she would always go through the dishes, checking for any trace of oil, or running her finger along the center table, for any trace of dust. It was always clean but I began to imagine if they would send me back home if I slacked in my duties, to be honest I wouldn’t mind. Oga on the other hand hardly paid me any attention. He was not interested in the cleanliness of the house and only shouted at me if I did not polish his shoes properly.

The days went by in a monotonous routine and became a blur. I found release only at night, when my tired limbs were stretched on the bed and I had few hours to myself to reminisce about my village and remember the fun times I used to have with my brothers and sisters.


Then one night I was pulled out of the sweet escape of my dream. I was back in the farm, dancing, with my basket balanced on my head while my brothers clapped and my sisters sang when a hand suddenly clamped over my mouth and pulled me out of the sunny dream to the reality of the dark room.

Oga was in my room and he had his trouser on the bed. He was naked. Residues of the dream and sleep still clouded my senses and I was confused. What was going on? I could still hear the clapping and singing from the dream deep in my head and I thought maybe I was having another dream, somehow dreaming inside my dream.

The pain that spread from in-between my legs was unbelievable and it shattered every illusion. I cried out but Oga’s hand was over my mouth.

“shhhh….if you make any noise I’d kill you and your poor parents would die of hunger. I bought you….you’re my property now.”

His big hands muffled my sobs and his animalistic grunts filled my ears. I would never hear the beautiful songs of my sisters, or the clapping and drumming of my brothers again. That grunt is all I would hear whenever I closed my eyes.

:::::::::::
He left as quickly and silently as he came although it felt like forever. I lay in the dark, crying softly as the pain spread to my very soul. Just in one moment I had lost everything, I was broken, I was confused and I felt betrayed.

I never wanted this, my parents had betrayed me for money, all in the guise of sending me off to a better environment but in reality they had sold me off to slavery. I was a slave, a modern slave but a slave nonetheless. I spent the night crying, unable to sleep, unable to forget what Oga had done to me but unwilling to remember it.

The cock crowed by 4am which was my normal alarm to get up and begin my daily chores but I ignored it. I remained on the bed, drowning in my tears which continued to flow.

Madam shouted my name in the morning when she didn’t see any sign of me washing the dishes.

“Mosuirat!”

I couldn’t answer.

She stormed into the room and saw me sitting on the floor, my hands around my folded legs as I swayed dejectedly, sobbing in the corner. She looked round the room then saw my bed sheet was stained with blood.

She didn’t say anything but crossed to where I was and dragged me roughly to my feet.

“You piece of filth, make sure you scrub the sheet and do your work, I’m going out.” Then she slapped me, a backhand slap that dazzled me and made me see stars. The slap left a ringing in my head but I still heard her hiss with a lot of venom before she stalked out.

That was the first time madam slapped me, but it would not be the last. From that moment, any time madam gave me an instruction, she would always leave an exclamation mark on my face.

Oga paid me another visit that night, and the night after that. I begged him and pleaded but he seemed to enjoy my tears. Seeing his eyes reflected by the little moonlight that seeped into my room, I noticed he looked happier and smiled as I cried and begged him to stop. Whenever he left me, I would crawl to the floor and promise myself never to cry again, never to give him the satisfaction of my tears. But then he would creep into my room the following night and I’d begin to cry and beg him to leave me alone.

And Madam would always hit me and beat me. She got a leather belt and would always be on the lookout for any mistake I made so she could beat me. No matter how careful I was, nothing was ever good enough for her.

I had no one to confide in. I was yet to receive the education that had been promised me, I spent all my days locked up in the house like a prisoner.

:::::::
The day my father came to see me, I sat in the chair stiffly while he kept on bowing and thanking my captors for taking me into their loving home and providing food and clothes for me. He could see I was unhappy. I had tears in my eyes but he chose to ignore me like I didn’t have an opinion and whatever I said or felt didn’t matter. I had long since learnt to lock myself deep into a room in my mind, a room where I could continue to dance with my basket while my brothers clapped and my sisters sang. That was the only place I could be happy, even though it was a mirage, even though the memory was now black and white and devoid of colour and life.

So I sat in the chair, looking at them while I found reprieve in the fantasy of memory.

Still I made a last minute effort. I cried after him and told him I wanted to go back home with them but my father just hugged me.

“Don’t worry Mosu, you’ll come and spend some time with us at home, and Jumai would come and join you soon, so you’ll have someone to talk to and play with. I love you okay?”

I doubted if he loved me as I watched Oga count some money and give to him. He showered praise on them and left.

I was ashamed of my father.

That night Madam brought out the belt again. “How dare you cry that you want to follow your father?”

She beat me and sent me to bed without any food. And later that night Oga woke me up.

:::
I have been raped and abused for 10 months. What was my crime? Being poor? Born into a poor family? Having parents that didn’t really love me as they should? What did I do to deserve this? I was suffering for the sins of my parents. For the illiteracy and primitive mentality that made them think we were not good enough and had to serve other humans.

I was too young to go through all these but I had long accepted my fate, dreaming of the day I would run away and find freedom was the only thing that kept me going.

But days after my father left, I kept on thinking of what he had said; my sister Jumait would be joining me soon in this hell. She was going to suffer just like I had. Madam was going to beat her and Oga was going to touch her with his filthy hands like he did me.

I cried almost every day, either when Madam was hitting me or whipping my back with the leather or when Oga was crushing me with his weight, grunting and grinning at me but as I thought of my little sister Jumai going through the same fate, I cried. This time the tears were different. It drained me off energy and left me lying in bed through the day. By nightfall I had made up my mind. My sister was not going to suffer the same fate. I didn’t know what I would do about it, but I had to do something.


Then the rats attacked. Somehow they found their way into the house through the sewage plumbing. Big, black sewer rats with long tails and slimy furs. They scurried about the house, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. They; nibbled the edges of the curtains, nibbled the television cables, nibbled on Oga’s work documents and Madam’s sandals. They destroyed everything and Madam couldn’t stand them. She would scream and scream at each sighting, shouting;

“Filthy rats! Filthy rats!”

Her screaming annoyed me because I thought she was just being hypocritical. Compared to her husband, the rats were almost spotless. Her husband was the dirtiest animal and she knew it. I had seen the way she looked at me, the way she looked at him and I know she knew. She knew the terrible things he did to me but she overlooked it.

Madam hated rats so much she bought a carton of rat poison home one day from work. I watched her as she mixed the powder with pieces of meat and fried fish and placed it in strategic positions around the house; in the dark corners the rats always disappeared to, under the sink, behind the cupboard, behind the cartons in the store.

Two days later, an unbelievable stench filled the house. She instructed me to find all the dead rats responsible for the smell and dispose them before she came back from work that evening.

I followed the smell and found 4 big dead rats around the house. I disposed them outside and returned to the spots to spray disinfectant and mop the floors and I marveled at how effective the poison was. I began to wonder how it would be if ingested by a human.
I took a box and hid it in my room.

That was last week.

I went through the rollercoaster of emotions all week. Should I or shouldn’t I? Could I or couldn’t I? But all it took was one more visit from Oga and I knew I couldn’t survive the abuse anymore. I couldn’t let my sister come and suffer the abuse too.

I waited patiently for my opportunity.

Now that my mind was made up the opportunity wasn’t forthcoming. I waited all week, growing frustrated with each passing day, each passing slap from Madam and each passing night visit from Oga until today. Today I finally carried out my revenge.

Lately Oga had been coming home earlier than usual. And whenever he got home before madam, he would hold me roughly and instruct me to do dirty things to him. He came home earlier today and immediately called me to his room but before he could get started we heard the sound of the gate opening.

“Madam has arrived. If I hear you say anything, I’ll kill you.” He shoved me roughly and buckled his belt. I ran out, adjusting my gown and managed to enter the kitchen before Madam.

“Welcome Ma.”

“Idiot! Hurry up and wash this fish then put it on fire!”

I already turned my cheek, expecting the slap which she dished out happily. I hurried to the sink while my cheek throbbed.

I stayed in the kitchen with madam, to lend a helping hand as she prepared dinner, fetching the ingredients she needed, being helpful but I was waiting for my chance.

When she put the soup on low heat and left the kitchen I waited till I could hear her voice in the room talking with Oga then I quickly opened the cupboard and emptied the whole box of rat poison in the soup. Then I rushed into my room and shut my eyes. I had finally done it.

“Mosuirat.”

“Yes ma.”

I rushed to the kitchen as my heart pounded. Somehow she had found out about what I had done and I was in big trouble. But she was already dishing the soup. The melon soup smelt delicious and I looked at the large quantity she had put in the bowl for she and Oga. They loved eating together and this was their last supper.

“Go and set water to wash hand on the dining table.” She snapped and I hurried away.

I stood at the entrance, with my heart in my throat until they began to eat and then I began to smile. But my smile disappeared when I heard the words that hunt me to this very hour;

“Honey guess what, I’m pregnant!”

:::::::::::::::::

So here we are. They continue to laugh and talk as they enjoy their last supper, making plans for the child.

They don’t know the child would never see the light of day. Tears begin to trickle down my face as I dish my own soup. I’m too young to have made the kind of decisions I made today, too young to have gone through the physical and emotional trauma of the last 10 months.

At least Oga and Madam are not going to put another child through their abuse. My sister isn’t going to suffer what I suffered. They are going to pay for their sins.

If you hear my story, I plead with you to search yourself, there are other young girls and boys going through what I went through, suffering physical and sexual abuse and they have no one to stand for them and speak for them. Please, don’t be like my parents, don’t sell off children for money and don’t turn a blind eye when you see a child crying because most times the tears run deep, deeper than we can ever imagine.

There are wicked people in this world who enjoy torturing and abusing helpless children just because we can’t fight back. Please don’t let us suffer for sins we did not commit.

The truth is that two children are going to die tonight, the unborn child and I, for the sins of our parents.

If you read my story and still find me guilty, I agree with you, my innocence was stolen after all. But first, let me eat my meal in peace.



The End

This work of fiction is dedicated to the memory of Ochanya Elizabeth Obanje. You will never be forgotten,
Rest on.

Roll call;

Samexdx stephengee12 hadampson dview001 rachealfst alarmednigerian vakjay08 meneski yommy20 prettyrose bibijay123 oyindawealth maltaleeza bakeuhappy supizino queenitee honourable356 debbycreamy dabila olufemiwhit kimkardashian Kimberly west iamloyalty countrygirl ayoshewa donteanz smokeydrinky chisiudeh dupsai sirgoldejike vincad skillful01 captainpower sikells castleberry maryclaire1 modik rhayne kunbeex princessadeola soulminister heemah osch10 Nmaglit forzarush sofiaamrozia misselocon jazmiynne mobecs damselbae igyeseh nanadeeva01 tolezy001 eitsei raintaker slimberry123 segibambo ladysunshine94 khennykhay rchilee dimssy boderline politicalthug Rodriguez12 prisivileth pweetywizzy charytea laraemi emzyme tillaman niwdog jekonmor officialflex bleeze2 cjizzy citygold121 aminatope247 jaesharp emmyn donnad diegonakel ogmeekzy07 hardeybay princesam10 bleeze2 cruzyteekay freshestmanny oluwaemmanuel sleekhoyen sexyolori pinkfeet ayodijex cyber5 succyblinks jupitre cindymorgan shurley22 ayodijex damibiz criis costal alamiendagash jide219 switkera renybenks osmon1996 queendd oroolorun shawdey tlordz toyin223 funnyfun precial419 boldndbeautiful tenniebae mightyfortress rosalieene nawtielizzie yourradiance tzminaj adeculate creeza go4success swankmee marvwhite aka sherlock Holmes
Dominicnuel skeetz gallantemory senatorpope holar1993 clemsworld donkelz beetunez44 myself2 ironlion1 blendmanuel mrsochy patjane seven jasmine2013 dreyman21 lyrink matherson tuba69 heeyhun sistaj komforth sowole007 dztzl johngainsville deadrat gmekx stainless239 queensiju niphmmy subtlemee in4matic ephay mzztega ayomicome kingsamm anaselizzy elvisojugo erudite202 korinnesta ebydarling bossy512 wapapod light4life chommieblaq dinabella surddick Godsmileforever officialbazor bibi294 Queen golden tenderblaze areros honeydawealth shotunz mariinee kukoyi larride oluwabuqqyyolo gabsi422 pinkberry5 zaheertyler hantonia jagugu88li oscardafuscar heymorse spdazzy omorlehwah itxayce kpagogin missnande chimeluv mrintegrity247 sussybae theabider bigbauer neenie phayth tife101 biggietreasures emmy091 queenjuli barag connkg emmydan hottadiva kinah favouritetega osch10 queen494 civilizedtyger sleepingqueen25 itsjezzy sheycrown dupsai yaronjos heirapparent cruzyteejay jaybee96 mrgudmood amikeem horlorlardaey kemam sexyfire911 kikiwendy neurojosh erock247 teekaycarter moonnstar negudugrace rayvelez xlozer timmyshot gamesound shekinah190 waacut elshberry bammylee002 iamdaquin01 bestie93 crislyn spiceybae holuwaphlexy gr8skillz virtuedagirl lildiamond seunnla cerowo kingsuave medrehab roastedcorn yemsy13865 snowboi360 hormobolanle jeedope hobbyheart mhizfavour juniho77 johncasey1 moyenii chinedubrazil sapy apostolate kendrickmykell slayer2 cindy1000 cbella brohimot royh mhizclair bankiev anneboyo2 lizzyparx lorlahlizzy dotwillis1 omomifamily patotelli thiannah observer3 mexzzy47 nikz marvin902 helenbee mhizterauto kayceerilyn iwakacome twinkle004 centitan kajsa08 babeflenz nickibeauty chillgist iralife tjpromise mancrimes oluwafeolami do4luv cynicgod queendaisy smartgenius10 kingphillip inkdbetty ksslib hidhris gracito smileing trggasg geektrovert matrycx osedagal qasar4life peppirina jey4all boywest1 drachel1993 folake25 lugar14 iheyhun connoisseur selimdeon kasey18 chigold121 erudite202 kayus621 kerr9 geosilye iamlynn lordshola billirayz augustinesilva ceecane2 hardeydun schlastica16 julietbae adfijem aries26 olueaseun15 dreyman21 virtueblazer harkinlowyeh gracyblaze donblzer10 ayokunmi24 mhizsuccess veevean0 amanda24 chinachris chara019 mexzzy47 chemicalreaction herosakin777 emerortj93 elshberry tomzz gotios latbons nerdychukz tijehi chigold121 mzposhberry90 tuhndhay brendy01 danyceo trendytessy hobbyheart lecdope okeyben10 itsandi jtofineme tripplexon biggysmolz oluwasheenah awalat172 steediamond antonineutron classicladyk moseph arabaribiti chiexcel retake89 authorityspeaks bensam2040 sleekhoyeen ultimategeneral officialflex stainlexxx tobymoore go4success kingzero lordpeckxy chinacriss ikechizoba obicoolnino fadahunsilegend seteejax optizzycute teebilion dammypat olori1992 ladybandie sussybae incredible2017 mickeyjaggers40 labelle123 akiewillis bidemmy4real kayjay007 sleemon chitheo smartaphyl joshnes badohemmy oluwakemi65 arinzevictor illicitblood arrestdarrester chuks000 mitchelljnr bishop818 ladyhal1 hilariousthiago aseke1 coolie1 ekopsparoayara ebonyqueen001 kingso23 solomonbrown64 whocarex clint237 lorlahlizzy engracedmay jennymaryjane01 kunleseshan enekwesylvia auric Emerich smartaphy1 dondemex nuelzy charminee epbere21 opeade939 agbenuanna obezeeco seanwilliam mazimee dohyinsolah ladeturner69 marychommy provabz renybenks horladstar blessgj olalekank lilymax vicoch agp19 jchemmy1 5iecreepy ochyglowsglows jadedgrace98 paqman shadow melodydennis yemike nittroboy ahmedbanj phemorison hazardman omnisparrow trebron damon147 jchemy1 fameg helenbee dreofGod tdyke4 gabi98 uchman48 jiikye1 genius43 mizsylviah bimsee jasonex4 obedugo seanatist anthcunny hawlascho kunmisola majole austinsamekpo pratiba phemochee marvin902 magicmeemee jacoik stephmiracle odyx blackel trendymiss johnsown1

Bravo bro... Much respect to u for this...

Hmm, this is touching. Hmm

Nice piece bro. quite touching.

I should not have read this on a sunday morning... So touching... Someone once told me that if maids (house-girls) had opportunity to tell their stories, the moralist will wish the world should just end once and for all.
Thanks for sharing this.
(I laugh sometime whenever I heard someone say another writer stole the story or pick an ideal from their work. One of the lessons I had learn in this sinful world is that once God gives you a talent/vision/idea, He also give exactly that to hundred others. It now left for individual to work on their into realization. Oga Souloho19, I had similar short story with me for the past ten years which I have never share before. Reading this your wonderful work made me wonder how manage you sneaked into my house, stole my work without my knowledge. Then I realized that while some of us are burrying the coins, you are investing yours not caring about the immediately profits or loses. Oga Souloho19, you are born to write, don't ever, never ever give up written.

So sad

Well done OP

Thanks for the mention.
@ Dedication: May her soul rest in perfect.

many innocent teenagers have fall victims of sex and physical abuse ranging from poverty, ignorance and illiteracy of their so called parent....only if government can intervene and put a stop to all this menace that is when The society itself is free..
#notosexabuse

many innocent teenagers have fall victims of sex and physical abuse ranging from poverty, ignorance and illiteracy of their so called parent....only if government can intervene and put a stop to all this menace that is when The society itself can be free..
#notosexabuse

Oroolorun:
I should not have read this on a sunday morning... So touching... Someone once told me that if maids (house-girls) had opportunity to tell their stories, the moralist will wish the world should just end once and for all.
Thanks for sharing this.
(I laugh sometime whenever I heard someone say another writer stole the story or pick an ideal from their work. One of the lessons I had learn in this sinful world is that once God gives you a talent/vision/idea, He also give exactly that to hundred others. It now left for individual to work on their into realization. Oga Souloho19, I had similar short story with me for the past ten years which I have never share before. Reading this your wonderful work made me wonder how manage you sneaked into my house, stole my work without my knowledge. Then I realized that while some of us are burrying the coins, you are investing yours not caring about the immediately profits or loses. Oga Souloho19, you are born to write, don't ever, never ever give up written.

Thanks bro, this means a lot. I realized things that happen in our society really affect me a lot and writing about it is a means to speak up in my own way, even though it doesn't look like it has any ripple effect at the moment but still we just have to try. This particular story was written for a 200 word competition here on NL about 2 years ago, but reading Ochanya's heart breaking tale inspired me to give it a background and expand it a bit. I've found out I really hate pedophiles more than anything and I've been writing another story 'Memoirs Of A Serial Killer' about a female journalist who uses her first hand access to information to investigate, track and kill child molesters because she was abused by her step father as a little girl.

About your own story, I honestly would like to read it. One writer told me recently, "there's nothing new under the sun, everything has already been written about. But we can only find our own unique way to tell it again."
God bless bro.

This is bad, May God protect our innocent girls. Amen
i have once witness a scenario of how house helps suffers in the hand of their guardian

Souloho19 Thanks for this writeup/message

souloho19:


Thanks bro, this means a lot. I realized things that happen in our society really affect me a lot and writing about it is a means to speak up in my own way, even though it doesn't look like it has any ripple effect at the moment but still we just have to try. This particular story was written for a 200 word competition here on NL about 2 years ago, but reading Ochanya's heart breaking tale inspired me to give it a background and expand it a bit. I've found out I really hate pedophiles more than anything and I've been writing another story 'Memoirs Of A Serial Killer' about a female journalist who uses her first hand access to information to investigate, track and kill child molesters because she was abused by her step father as a little girl.

About your own story, I honestly would like to read it. One writer told me recently, "there's nothing new under the sun, everything has already been written about. But we can only find our own unique way to tell it again."
God bless bro.

Great
One unique thing of a writer is the ability to pass usefull information and knowledge through writing

The Sky is your starting point Keep it on bro

"Memoirs Of A Serial Killer"
I have already start reading this already.
Oga Souloho19, I am a lazy budding writer and my target are teens.
If you can send me your e-mail I will send one of my unedited work to you so that you can know how truely lazy I am.

souloho19:
Roll call;

Samexdx stephengee12 hadampson dview001 rachealfst alarmednigerian vakjay08 meneski yommy20 prettyrose bibijay123 oyindawealth maltaleeza bakeuhappy supizino queenitee honourable356 debbycreamy dabila olufemiwhit kimkardashian Kimberly west iamloyalty countrygirl ayoshewa donteanz smokeydrinky chisiudeh dupsai sirgoldejike vincad skillful01 captainpower sikells castleberry maryclaire1 modik rhayne kunbeex princessadeola soulminister heemah osch10 Nmaglit forzarush sofiaamrozia misselocon jazmiynne mobecs damselbae igyeseh nanadeeva01 tolezy001 eitsei raintaker slimberry123 segibambo ladysunshine94 khennykhay rchilee dimssy boderline politicalthug Rodriguez12 prisivileth pweetywizzy charytea laraemi emzyme tillaman niwdog jekonmor officialflex bleeze2 cjizzy citygold121 aminatope247 jaesharp emmyn donnad diegonakel ogmeekzy07 hardeybay princesam10 bleeze2 cruzyteekay freshestmanny oluwaemmanuel sleekhoyen sexyolori pinkfeet ayodijex cyber5 succyblinks jupitre cindymorgan shurley22 ayodijex damibiz criis costal alamiendagash jide219 switkera renybenks osmon1996 queendd oroolorun shawdey tlordz toyin223 funnyfun precial419 boldndbeautiful tenniebae mightyfortress rosalieene nawtielizzie yourradiance tzminaj adeculate creeza go4success swankmee marvwhite aka sherlock Holmes
Dominicnuel skeetz gallantemory senatorpope holar1993 clemsworld donkelz beetunez44 myself2 ironlion1 blendmanuel mrsochy patjane seven jasmine2013 dreyman21 lyrink matherson tuba69 heeyhun sistaj komforth sowole007 dztzl johngainsville deadrat gmekx stainless239 queensiju niphmmy subtlemee in4matic ephay mzztega ayomicome kingsamm anaselizzy elvisojugo erudite202 korinnesta ebydarling bossy512 wapapod light4life chommieblaq dinabella surddick Godsmileforever officialbazor bibi294 Queen golden tenderblaze areros honeydawealth shotunz mariinee kukoyi larride oluwabuqqyyolo gabsi422 pinkberry5 zaheertyler hantonia jagugu88li oscardafuscar heymorse spdazzy omorlehwah itxayce kpagogin missnande chimeluv mrintegrity247 sussybae theabider bigbauer neenie phayth tife101 biggietreasures emmy091 queenjuli barag connkg emmydan hottadiva kinah favouritetega osch10 queen494 civilizedtyger sleepingqueen25 itsjezzy sheycrown dupsai yaronjos heirapparent cruzyteejay jaybee96 mrgudmood amikeem horlorlardaey kemam sexyfire911 kikiwendy neurojosh erock247 teekaycarter moonnstar negudugrace rayvelez xlozer timmyshot gamesound shekinah190 waacut elshberry bammylee002 iamdaquin01 bestie93 crislyn spiceybae holuwaphlexy gr8skillz virtuedagirl lildiamond seunnla cerowo kingsuave medrehab roastedcorn yemsy13865 snowboi360 hormobolanle jeedope hobbyheart mhizfavour juniho77 johncasey1 moyenii chinedubrazil sapy apostolate kendrickmykell slayer2 cindy1000 cbella brohimot royh mhizclair bankiev anneboyo2 lizzyparx lorlahlizzy dotwillis1 omomifamily patotelli thiannah observer3 mexzzy47 nikz marvin902 helenbee mhizterauto kayceerilyn iwakacome twinkle004 centitan kajsa08 babeflenz nickibeauty chillgist iralife tjpromise mancrimes oluwafeolami do4luv cynicgod queendaisy smartgenius10 kingphillip inkdbetty ksslib hidhris gracito smileing trggasg geektrovert matrycx osedagal qasar4life peppirina jey4all boywest1 drachel1993 folake25 lugar14 iheyhun connoisseur selimdeon kasey18 chigold121 erudite202 kayus621 kerr9 geosilye iamlynn lordshola billirayz augustinesilva ceecane2 hardeydun schlastica16 julietbae adfijem aries26 olueaseun15 dreyman21 virtueblazer harkinlowyeh gracyblaze donblzer10 ayokunmi24 mhizsuccess veevean0 amanda24 chinachris chara019 mexzzy47 chemicalreaction herosakin777 emerortj93 elshberry tomzz gotios latbons nerdychukz tijehi chigold121 mzposhberry90 tuhndhay brendy01 danyceo trendytessy hobbyheart lecdope okeyben10 itsandi jtofineme tripplexon biggysmolz oluwasheenah awalat172 steediamond antonineutron classicladyk moseph arabaribiti chiexcel retake89 authorityspeaks bensam2040 sleekhoyeen ultimategeneral officialflex stainlexxx tobymoore go4success kingzero lordpeckxy chinacriss ikechizoba obicoolnino fadahunsilegend seteejax optizzycute teebilion dammypat olori1992 ladybandie sussybae incredible2017 mickeyjaggers40 labelle123 akiewillis bidemmy4real kayjay007 sleemon chitheo smartaphyl joshnes badohemmy oluwakemi65 arinzevictor illicitblood arrestdarrester chuks000 mitchelljnr bishop818 ladyhal1 hilariousthiago aseke1 coolie1 ekopsparoayara ebonyqueen001 kingso23 solomonbrown64 whocarex clint237 lorlahlizzy engracedmay jennymaryjane01 kunleseshan enekwesylvia auric Emerich smartaphy1 dondemex nuelzy charminee epbere21 opeade939 agbenuanna obezeeco seanwilliam mazimee dohyinsolah ladeturner69 marychommy provabz renybenks horladstar blessgj olalekank lilymax vicoch agp19 jchemmy1 5iecreepy ochyglowsglows jadedgrace98 paqman shadow melodydennis yemike nittroboy ahmedbanj phemorison hazardman omnisparrow trebron damon147 jchemy1 fameg helenbee dreofGod tdyke4 gabi98 uchman48 jiikye1 genius43 mizsylviah bimsee jasonex4 obedugo seanatist anthcunny hawlascho kunmisola majole austinsamekpo pratiba phemochee marvin902 magicmeemee jacoik stephmiracle odyx blackel trendymiss johnsown1

following bumper to bumper.


book front seat for me

present sir.
Really touching. There are many girls out there like Ochanya Elizabeth Obanje and some of them are scared to speak out. "Silence is not always golden sweetie, sometimes it is just plain yellow".
#SPEAK_OUT

Breathtaking story as usual oga soul.... Love your work and the story was so touching, but you didn't include me(one of your biggest fan/follower ) on the role call, I've literally read virtually all your stories( the devil Wears okrika, delayed diagnosis, the hole in the wall etc)..... I'll pretend as if my feelings aren't hurt.

Vulcanheph:
Breathtaking story as usual oga soul.... Love your work and the story was so touching, but you didn't include me(one of your biggest fan/follower ) on the role call, I've literally read virtually all your stories( the devil Wears okrika, delayed diagnosis, the hole in the wall etc)..... I'll pretend as if my feelings aren't hurt.

Pls forgive me boss, the roll call was just a copied post from another story. It surely wasn't intentional. I really appreciate your constant ginger. Thanks and God bless

This story is hurt - touched. I think to write some stories is good. I think you can find many fanats who will love to read your writings. I am ot so good in writing as you. So I use some help with it here

Queenitee, have you seen this?

Oga Souloho19, thanks for the mention.
Some deep stuff to think about menh

ummmmmmm,

this story is too touching. May God help us in this country.

imagine someone giving birth to many children you can't take care .

i think this blame should go to her parents who sold there daughter to strangers because they are rich .

keep it up souloho19

dimssy:
Queenitee, have you seen this?

Oga Souloho19, thanks for the mention.
Some deep stuff to think about menh

Yes, thank you was a very touching story, like will we ever get it right and when?

souloho19:
Roll call;

freshestmanny

Thanks Souloho19 for the mention. Great piece as usual coming from you. It's been a while. The story was so touching. The horrible experiences that most maids go through--- their crime? Being born poor. Thanks and looking forward to another story from you.

***bring out a handkerchief and mop his eyes***
Hasn't someone succeeded in getting me emotional now?

#SayNoToChildMolestation

#SayNoToModernSlaveTrade

chai this is really touching

What a heart wrenching story,may GOD deliver every maid going through this kind of treatment in the hands of wicked souls calling themselves Oga/madam,No child deserves such life... Hmmmmm!
Thanks for the mention @souloho19

@souloho19,it's always a pleasure reading your write-up.To think that someone is in a prison called mansion going through all these(or even worse) is just depressing.

A beautiful write-up