Through the Eyes of the Molested

Everything, now that I am not that scared little girl, feels better. I would like to count myself as a survivor now thank you. Me the mighty, and my molester a prisoner in his own skin. I should tell you what happened from the start, from the mind of the old through the eyes of the young.

I was eight years old, too young to know if this is good or if that is bad. I wasn't a social butterfly, no I was physically petit, quiet, and most of all, I was shy. I was never picked on or anything, I was basically a wallflower. That's probably why I was the first and longest target of who we shall refer to as Mr. M.

Mr. M was the substitute teacher that waltzed into class out of nowhere one morning. If I can remember clearly, he was of average height, dark skin with a lanky figure. He had a kind smile on, and we were all excited when he told us he would be taking over temporarily until our class teacher returned. We never enjoyed her company anyway. She was strict and no one had the guts to make a sound unless she permitted it, so you can see our giddiness when Mr. M walked in all smiles and easy.

The first few weeks were easy and exciting. Mr. M allowed us a lot of freedom, he was like a superhero of some sort. We never wanted him to leave. I was very happy that I could enjoy my classes. I looked forward to school everyday. Other students approached Mr. M most times to demand for storytelling. He always captivated us with his stories. He made us laugh so hard tears came out of our eyes.

Usually when Mr. M gave out class exercises he sat at his desk working on marking notes or setting out take home assignments. It wasn't unusual for him to move around the class as well when he felt like it. What was unusual however, was sitting next to a student when these class exercises are going on.

The first time Mr. M sat down next to me, we were having a Mathematics exercise and I was having so difficulties with it. In a class of less than twenty students, my seat was located at the very back. Mr. M's table was right at the door, far away from my seat, but he always found his way to me no matter what. When he sat by me I got scared. Not because I thought he was going to do anything with me at that point, but because I though I had done something wrong with the equations I was trying to solve. I got stuck and I was afraid of being dragged out as an example of the 'nice' teacher.

Surprisingly, he did nothing. He just sat beside me for some minutes and told me where I had gone wrong in my work. Then he stood up and left. I felt relief wash over me, I was glad that I wasn't punished and that he took his time to explain things to me. This went on for the rest of the week, during Math class exercises. At that point, I felt somewhat free with him, once I knew his aim wasn't to make an example out of me but to help me. The following week came and the same pattern continued. I was confused why he singled me out to assist, but I was mostly happy that I might be a teacher's favourite.

Things changed on the third week however. The same scenario played out, he gave out class exercises and began his walk around the class, a few minutes into the exercise. As usual, he came to my seat, but I didn't find it any different. I went ahead to ask for a little help on the new topic and he began to assist. However, along the line, I felt him rest his right hand on my left lap. I didn't think anything of it at first. He didn't move his hand for a few seconds, but he kept on with the explanation. I had almost finished the question I was working on when he started moving his hand. Slowly, he moved my skirt out of the way and placed his palm on my inner thigh. I felt extremely uncomfortable and moved my leg slightly. My mouth became suddenly dry and I could feel my heart beat twice its original speed.

He kept his hand there firmly. No amount of moving shook him off. No one could see what was going on as well. When students began to stand up to submit their works, he stood up and left. I was too shocked to speak or to even move to submit my work. I was terrified of him touching me again if I came close to him. I eventually summoned enough courage to submit my work without making any eye contact. This went on for the next two weeks. I became terrified of him, every movement he made was like he was coming for me or plotting what to do next to me. He warned me not to say anything to anyone or else he would punish me severely in front of the whole class. I suffered in silence everyday and at home my level of enthusiasm to leave for school dropped.

I always tried to look for lies to escape school but after awhile my parents didn't listen anymore. Anytime my mum asked me why I didn't want to go to school, I told her nothing. I thought if she knew,then Mr. M would know I told someone and he would carry out his promise. The next time I went to class and we were given class exercises, I just sat there, dreading what was to come. However, something different happened that day. Instead of taking his usual seat beside me, Mr. M went ahead to seat beside another girl in the class. After a few moments, he tried to do the same thing he constantly tired with me to her but she always found a way to swat his hand away from her. At a point she stood up to submit her work and left to seat with another student on their bench.

I saw the whole thing and what came to my mind immediately was 'thank God he isn't targeting me today'. I wanted to talk to her about what have been going on but I kept replaying his threat in my head, and I was too shy to even approach her. I felt useless, and I began to develop a form of hatred towards myself. The next day he came to me and started with what he liked doing. I tried shaking him off with the little courage I could muster but he just forcefully grabbed me until it became painful to move, making me hate myself more.

That very day, I went home, locked myself in the bathroom and cried so hard. I didn't know what to do. I was so terrified and I just begged the powers above to help me. I was torn, should I report him to a fellow teacher? The headmaster directly? One of my siblings ? I didn't want to risk being punished. It would be painful and my classmates would laugh at me, but I didn't want to face the everyday touching he subjected me to because it made me feel dirty each time he did it. I wanted to run away to a place no one would find me, where I wouldn't have to decide what to do. I made my decision.

The next day as we were preparing to leave for school, I told my parents I didn't want to go. They told me no more excuses and I saw that if I didn't say what I wanted to say then and fast, I would be casted to another day of pain, so immediately before either of them could leave, I blurted out 'Mr. M is always touching my leg when we are having class exercises.' That surely stopped their movements. My parents sat me down and made me tell them everything. I narrated the whole thing and the reason I have been keeping it a secret. I begged them not to tell him, because if they did, I would be in trouble. They were of course furious. The next thing, we were in the car heading to my school.

My one plan and smart decision must have failed, because they were taking me to school, where I would be dealt with. I screamed and cried and their assurance that I wasn't going to be touched fell on deaf ears. When we got there, I refused to get down from the car but my father carried me out, thrashing, to the headmaster's office. There, my parents talked lengthily with the headmaster. I couldn't even concentrate on their discussion, I was too a busy playing out different ways I would be humiliated. By the time they were done , I was was escorted to my classroom but my parents and a furious looking headmaster.

Mr. M was called by the headmaster to his office and my parents left with them. I sat down thinking -I had really done it now, I was in serious trouble when he gets back. Minutes which felt like years later, Mr. M walked back into class, with tear tracks all over his face. He began to clear out his desk and just left. I sat there wondering what was going on. A different teacher came in and took over and I was over the moon excited. Just like that I had done it, defeated the monster that followed me everywhere. My classmates grumbled about the new arrangement but I didn't care, I finally stood up to him. I won.

That is my life as a paperback story. Years later, I think to myself what would've happened if hadn't stood up for myself ? Now that I am an adult that understand what words like 'molest', 'harass', 'rape', 'threat', and so much more mean. What I have gone through I see as a strength and not a weakness. I refuse to see it as a weakness, and I refuse to let it define me.