Most evenings after school, a relative of mine would fondle me and touch me in ways I was scared of at first, but learned to appreciate after a while. Constantly longing for that touch, which said "you are so beautiful that I can't help touching you", I would allow the boys at school to fondle me in a similar but less intense way. When he left, there was still that desire to be "loved", so I utilized my own methods of finding pleasure - whatever it took, I had to be stimulated. I went to spend time in the house that my relative moved to (my parents allowed this because they had no idea of what was taking place). There the same relative as well as another relative of mine raped me. On returning home, the battle in my mind started, I was just about to begin High School.
Daily I would wonder if I'm pregnant or suffering from any kind of disease. Crying was a part of everyday in my life. The only method of not showing my fears, my pain or simply revealing me, was by being as aggressive and ugly as a significant person in my life always told me I was, by shutting people out of my life completely, by showing an arrogant side, a fearless side that no one dears to even come too close to, while on the inside was bitterness, resentment, confusion and hatred.
By the time I was thirteen I had already, accepted the Lord and I got baptized - everything wrong will stop - or so I thought, attempted suicide quite a number of times, done a pap smear which informed my mother of my involvement in sexual intercourse and was probably the most scared girl alive whose alibi against hurt was to ignore my feelings, get guys to want me then hurt them or just drop them. But I was really afraid of guys, skeptical towards every member of the opposite sex that I knew and yet still I desired constant stimulation from the opposite sex. By this age, I already had many intense sessions of passionate making out - with my sister's ex-boyfriend. I knew what it felt like to do everything that leads up to having sex but fortunately enough I didn't have sex.
The few things I remember about my fourth form year is that while being looked upon as one of the intellects in all my classes, I was struggling with low self-esteem - which was the root of all my other problems. I also remember that it was in the summer of that year that I met my best friend, who has had a positive impact on my life for the few years we have known each other. I also remember when I went to my mother one morning, crying because of the dream I got, that I might have a disease or that I might be pregnant, and I told her that the relative who lived with us for a while molested me once. I was anticipating a mother's hug, a mother's love and sympathy that proved ineffectual when she said to me "If a neva one t'ing, I woulda buss yu ass". I separated myself from everyone I knew (even those who thought I
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