THEY CALLED ME A MURDERER

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There are those that find themselves, again and again, in situations of abuse. A pattern, repeated countless times.

I don’t understand, the blame must be mine, ‘stupid girl! stupid girl!’.

After the abuse, when the bruises are gone, the sore places on my body has healed, I am left with the humiliation, the shame, the guilt, filth that sticks to my body like scum. I believe i am the essence of filth.

I have separated my body from my heart but still my heart is broken, my soul is destroyed. I believe i am cursed, from birth i think, there is something in me, something about me, that makes people, men, to always want to do things to me, bad things.

Wherever i go, there’s a way men look at me, they stare at me with lust filled eyes and lick their lips like hungry dogs.

It all began when i was 9, father died and mom had to remarry. His name was Tunde, he became my new father, my step-father. Mom said i had to love him, respect him and do whatever he says, but Tunde was mean, very mean, he would always shout at me, curse me and hit me.
I complained to mom several times,
‘He’s your father now, stop being naughty, learn to obey and respect him’
she would always say.


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Then one day, mom had travelled to Onitsha to buy stuffs and she couldn’t return that day cause their car broke down on the way back, i was home alone with Tunde, he came into my room around 11pm, the room was dark, there was no light, i was lying on the bed, about to sleep, he pounced on me like a hungry lion, tore my clothes into shreds, pulled my pants down enough to expose my most private parts.

What was he trying to do? I didn’t understand. His heavy body on top of mine, why would he want to do this? He tried to put his thing between my legs. I fought, i pleaded, i cried, i screamed for help, i struggled but i guess i just wasn’t strong enough, i was too weak.

After he was done, he stood up, spat on me, and then walked out of my room. He left me in pains, bruised, so confused, so ashamed. I managed to get up, went to the bathroom, cleaned myself up and cried myself to bed.

I didn’t tell a soul, mom wouldn’t believe me, there was no one to talk to, and so it continued for 8 years, 8 years of suffering in silence, 8 years of pain, 8 years of him going into me and leaving me more wounded! Sometimes he invited his friends to join in using my body, once he offered me to a mechanic as payment to repair his car, another time he offered me to some guys at a bachelors party, i did the work, he got the pay.


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I was a slave, his SEX SLAVE and mom didn’t know! What kind of mother is she? I continued to endure the pain, the bruises, the heart aches……………until last week Saturday, mom had gone to visit our next door neighbours and he came into my room again, for
‘a quickie’
he said, but i decided i had had enough! i pulled out the knife i had hidden underneath my pillow and i stabbed him in the neck, countless times.


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He screamed…..he screamed so loud, mom came in, she was shocked, she screamed….she called me a murderer…the neighbours came…they called me a murderer….the police came….they called me a murderer…i was taken to court, the judge called me a

*** MURDERER!!***
No one talked about how he murdered me each day, they called me a killer but no one spoke about how he killed me everyday……

Now here i am, sitting in this cell, locked up, everyone hates me, everyone blames me for killing the man who murdered my soul!
My name is Tiwa and I am a VICTIM!!


imagewritten by ogbo peculiar.

Name:Ogbo Peculiar

 Fb ID: Ogbo Peculiar IG: @Peck_kiss 

email: ogbopeculiar@gmail.com 

number:08134059432 

About Onyeneke Abel

I am a writer, freelancer, ghostwriter, content developer. Okay hold on and think of any thing that has to do with a pen and paper. Yeah hold on. That's me in your thoughts. I am anything that has to do with a pen and paper!

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