It happened last night when the soft wind blew cold through the doorway into the shack I called my father’s house, stealing every feeling of warmth that my body had fought to retain. I do not blame the wind for the misfortune that has befallen me. Why should I? When I am the cause. My careless faith in the humanity of humans. How many times have I been warned to be careful and never to divulge information?

Father and mother left for the village last week. It was not my first time of being home alone. I remember the face of the taxi driver who brought me home yesterday evening. A middle-aged man who asked about my destination and engaged me in a conversation about myself and my home.

By the time I was home, I had forgotten that the driver was a stranger. I offered him a drink. He declined, saying a lady should never invite a man into her home if she’s alone. I must have told him something about my parents’ trip.

It happened last night. A loud thumping woke me. The sound of the wooden door breaking was all I needed to pierce through the fog clouding my mind. Robbers! I thought as I immediately scooted behind the rat-infested sofas that had seen better days.

“I thought you said she was here,” a masculine voice said breaking the silence that had descended as they searched the house with their flashlights.

“I am very sure she is here; she isn’t the type to run off at night,” an all too familiar voice replied.

Wait. The cab driver from the evening; what is he doing here?

“Found her!” someone shouted as pain exploded in my skull.

The person pulled me by my hair and threw me down at the centre of the space we used as parlour. Four men stood over me.

“Hello, pretty Mary,” the driver said, “remember inviting me in? Hope you don’t mind, I brought some friends along.” He grabbed me by the neck forcing his slimy tongue down my throat.

It happened last night. I was broken, naked, dirty and cold. Curling up, hoping to die but also praying for warmth. Aching in places that were before strange to me.

It happened last night; I was raped.


Picture Credit: The Hans India

This story emerged in 6th position in the 2017 edition of the JB Afenfia Flash Fiction Contest

Written by : Michael Afenfia

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One Comment

  1. […] It Happened Last Night by Ugbana-Awaji Finomo […]

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