CASSY'S COMFORMITY (Episode I)

Lately, she had acknowledged her freedom from such a strange spell that held her in like the slave in the hands of their predators. She had wished the experience never occurred to her. Cassy was a tall, beautiful, fair-skinned damsel, who shared her life's experience while growing up as a young girl, entrusted into the hands of her uncle. All hell broke loose, and every night for her was a drama scene full of dilemma. Her sense of consciousness turned into a wavering sense of unreality, shattered into a million glittering fragments. This was the genesis of Cassy's experience called, "THE CONFORMITY." She had to fight through this obnoxious plight and break the norm, or conform to the game plan and play by the rules.

FLASHBACK STORY:

I closed my eyes and spoke to you in a thousand silent ways. My family's relatives trusted Uncle Ford, without being skeptical, to take care of me and whatever it was that concerned me. To my greatest surprise, the proposed Garden of Eden transcended into the hell on earth. You either win or lose. He was deaf to my feelings, fulfilling his selfish desire and evil mission in the dark. He denied me freedom of expression. I was mentally and emotionally chained like a slave in oppression, yet no single physical chain was on my hands. I was continually maltreated by an unknown monster in the dark, and an angel in the day; a notorious brother from my late father. He forcefully conditioned me never to let the cat out of the bag with his usual saying, "You speak out, I kill you." This was a threat that replayed in my mind and echoed into my ears anytime I set my eyes on him. Following the demise of my parents at my tender age, I became an early orphan, and was forced into an ignorant conformity. During this period, I was 19. The scales in my eyes fell off and I realised the woman I was meant to be, the pride I was meant to enact to my generation. I am a woman with honour, a change agent, not a sex tool.
At this time, I was 24, and the battle had just began between me and my Uncle Ford.

On occasions, the pain that pierced through my heart could only be expressed visibly in the tears that ran down my chin. I regarded him as my father after my biological parents slept on. He blunted my feelings for his own selfish interest. I was sexually maltreated in the dark. No voice heard my hidden cry. In the night, on my bed, he tagged me a tool for sexual gratification. He continued this way, all in secret, and threatened me never to tell anyone, otherwise he would kill me.

He had his way one very night, when he engulfed me like a dark night stranger. I was shut up from speaking a word. I couldn't utter a word, not even a sound. He was like a parasite flipping into my life, causing damage to my spirit and killing me emotionally as the day glided by. He came through the door with the intention to pick up something very dear to me. Ironically, I became the victim in this context. He forcefully grabbed my hands. In aggression, Uncle Ford tore my pyjamas without mercy, like those antiquated rags in the den. We battled, and with the little strength I had, I got to fight my way out of this mess. However, eventually, he succeeded, as he gradually pierced himself into my skin, as quickly as he could. He held my arms firmly, so tight that he boxed himself energetically into myself. I tried to stop him, but all effort was to no avail.

After couple of minutes, he gratified his very own sexual desire and his usual saying, "You speak out, I kill you." Mr. Ford dashed out from the bed impulsively, sweating profusely in the heat of the night like the traditional he-goats in my father's backyard. He, however, felt the most pleasure of his life. He dragged upwards his trousers, fixing his belt, he asked, "Cassy, how was it and hope you enjoyed it as well?" He smiled. I muted, while I covered my face with my defiled wrapper. He zipped up and quickly left the room forgetting his wristwatch, which I had unknowingly loosened from his hands, as well as the glittering chain that surrounded his neck. I hid these accessories from him for a very long time. Moreover, seemed to me like he completely forgot about them.

Right on the bed, that night, with the pain that accompanied such an action, I was screwed with the feeling of guilt. I said to myself with tears dripping off my eyes, "If I speak out my plight, this man will kill me. I wish Dad had survived the illness that took him away from me." I lamented to myself.

At the cracking of the morning, I became the shadow of myself. It seemed life never meant me good, not even for a second. Mr. Ford disguised himself, this time, as an angel, who appears a monster in the night, sucking out my pride and ripping me off, layer by layer, until nothing was left of my personality.

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To be continued on my next episode.

Thanks to@ttopswag for editing this story

©Peter Iyamah

PeterPen_Writes
PPW

ALL IMAGES USED IN THIS CONTENT WERE EXTRACTED FROM PIXABAY AND GOOGLE PHOTOS