A storm was raging inside of her. It whirled and lashed and twisted her guts, fighting to break free of its dark atrium. Its furious charge rammed the walls of her throat, losing its conniption and barely crawling through the viscid veil of her bloated lips in subdued whispers.
The top half of her head thundered with pain and the will to get up and run out of the door. But her body just laid there, counting the seconds, knowing that the arrival of morning may not bring the dawn she pined for.
Her hand lay limp on her phone, its blips punctuating the dreary silence, telling her there was someone on the other end, someone to help, yet the red light blinking taunted her. Her will was not strong enough to send a distress message.
Leaning against the open door was a head bowed as if in prayer. She wasn’t sure for how long.
She wasn’t sure she cared.
A shrill tune jabbed her senses. A call.
Someone was calling. She tried to lift the blob on her eye to see the caller. A fresh spurt of red warm blood soaked the already clotted beads on her cheeks.
She didn’t really care who it was. Anyone would do.
With every fibre of strength left in her, she depressed the receive button on the phone. Her brain sent the word, and she screamed it as loud as she could, even though it was barely a whisper.
It had been an arduous journey but the excitement of it all had kept Amanda awake, chatting with her friends. In just one day, she had experienced more than one thing she had only heard in the news. It was her first journey away from home, and they were only lucky to hear the news of the robbers operating a little distance away from them. The driver of the vehicle had done a reenactment of 007 and turned back to save his life and those of his passengers. After a few hours of fidgeting and panic, they got a report that the road was clear again.
Amanda prayed through the rest of the journey and jumped with relief as her uncle picked her from the garage.
She had always believed she loved danger and adventure, and she did appreciate the thrill of it but prayed never to see it again.
It was almost 2:30am before the strains of sleep started tugging hard on her lids. She tried to fight it and kept on chatting, but slowly, she drifted out of her conscious state.
That was until she felt it. At first, it seemed like a much too vivid dream, a figment of her active imagination, a seed of the events of the past day that chose to grow in her dreams.
As her senses awakened, she thought it might be a mosquito. She raised her hand to swat it, but instead, caught a hand tracing the inside of her thighs. Her heartbeat tripled in speed and a rush of bile dried up her mouth and sent a scream flying out.
”Uncle Wale!! Help!”
Fear shot clear thoughts of despair into her being.
‘What if uncle Wale had been tied up and beaten, or worse. . .?”
She jumped to the top corner of the bed, grabbing her phone. She screamed her uncle’s name again.
”Sshh”, came the sound through the darkness. The light came on, and she saw her mother’s brother standing in his briefs, staring at her with ravenous desire.
”Uncle…”, she belted out, her twitching fingers fiddling with the thick blanket on her bed.
”What are you doing?”
He flipped the switch again and started sauntering towords her in the heavy darkness.
Amanda scrambled off the bed, aiming for the bathroom door. The danger was clear and present. She punched the dial button on her phone trying to remember who she called last.
Wale read her movements and grabbed her by the waist before she slipped into the bathroom.
Amanda shrieked as she landed on the bed, her phone flying out of her hand and landing on the rug.
”Uncle, stop!”, she pleaded as the first tears streamed down her face.
”Why?”, he asked in a raggedy voice, ”You want this”
Amanda shook her head and threw her hands on his face, digging her nails in.
He screamed in a fit of pain and left an imprint of his fist on her face with a stinging blow.
He twisted her arms and pinned them above her head. Holding her down with his legs on either side of her, he tore her cotton night top and stared at her young breasts like a thirsty man.
”You are all grown up now”, he said with a throttled laugh.
He touched her nipple and felt her squirming under him.
”It won’t be like it used to be”, he said, bringing his face close to hers.
”Uncle, it’s me Amanda! Your wife is not here.” Her face twisted with fear and confusion.
Was he drunk or mad?
She smelt nothing on him.
He splayed his hand on her breast and she trashed again, hoping he was in a trance and would snap out of it.
She knew she wasn’t dreaming this. Her imagination could not be that strong. Yet in a strange way, it felt familiar.
”Uncle Wale, please!”, her pleas grew, muffled with the sound of her sobs.
”Aunty Rayo is not around, I am not your wife”
He raised his head and stared hard at her.
”Don’t tell me you don’t remember!”