Leyana is a young mixed-race woman, born and raised in Lagos, Nigeria. One day after work she was raped. This wasn’t because of anything she did. Rape is never the victim’s fault. This was because a man felt entitled to a body that did not belong to him. This is her story.
This isn’t a long story. There isn’t much to say. It’s a story of pain like one you’ve undoubtedly heard before. The world is a wicked, vicious place. My story isn’t the first of its kind, it will not be the last.
It was late on a Friday night. I had stayed behind at work again because I was younger than everyone so they thought they could bully me into submission. I say ‘thought’ like I fought back. I didn’t. I never did. I’m a mixed gen z woman living in Nigeria. I naturally draw too much attention and seeing as I am the only woman in my workplace, I draw all the attention. At that time, I did everything in my power to not be seen. I ignored the catcalls, leers and “oyibo” I constantly got. I also did everything I was asked when I was asked. I followed all the rules. Never wore any skirt above my knees, no low-necked tops and/or tops with sleeves above my upper arms. I did all they said to do, to avoid this but as usual, it doesn’t matter what a woman does, a man will always find a way to take and take and take.
So anyways, I leave the office and begin my walk down the street to get a bus going to Ajah. I worked at Ikoyi. It was a bit of a distance to Ajah and the street the office was located on had no transport shuttles going in and out. I had to walk out on my own. It was quiet and it was cold. I wore a beige pantsuit that day. I had felt very pretty. I burnt the suit after this day. I regretted ever wearing it. I was scared. I had my heart in my throat while I tried to walk as quickly as I could down the street. It’s normally a short walk. Five minutes tops but that day? That day was the longest walk I’ve ever been on. I felt him before I saw him. His presence was like a dampener from a sci-fi movie. It shut all my senses down. All I felt was him but before I could react, I was already on the floor. I don’t know how, to be honest, I just don’t have that memory anymore but somehow he was already on top of me. Now, remember how I said I never fought back? This wasn’t the case. With everything in me, I FOUGHT! I grabbed whatever I could, I kicked anything I could hit and I screamed. Oh, how I screamed. It didn’t matter though. He was so much stronger and there was no one to hear me. Before I knew it, his dick was in one hand and his thighs were holding my thighs as open as they could get. His other hand held both my arms above my head. It was like an iron grip. He was a massive, massive man. There was no moving. I was, essentially, immobilised. Right before he put his penis in my vagina I sighed and began crying.
He didn’t say a word to me. Not one. When he realised I had given up and I was just letting it happen he became almost gentle with me. It was the most disgusting thing I had ever experienced. He came twice before letting me go. For a while, I just lay there. It was like a movie. It didn’t feel real. I couldn’t feel anything. I was just numb. Eventually, I got myself up, walked down the street and got into the bus heading for Ajah. Now, I’m sure you’re waiting for the part where I describe how I tried to tell someone or how I suffered from PTSD or how I found out I was pregnant and tried to terminate the pregnancy but never did and yes, some of these things happened but not in the way you think it did. I didn’t tell anyone, not at first or try to find the man. First of all, I had no clue what he looked like. I just knew he was black and huge. He also smelled like weed. More specifically, Canadian Loud. I can never forget that smell. To this day it still haunts me. Also, who would believe me? This is Nigeria. Nobody cares. The PTSD though…that was there but not in a way that other people noticed.
I got up the next day and went to work like normal. I was just as quiet as I usually am and if anyone noticed how I avoided touching anyone and how I carried a lost look for most of the day, no one said anything. When it got to 4 pm, I packed up my bags ignoring the people that tried to get me to stay longer, as usual, and made my way to a clinic for a thorough check-up. After that night I never left the office later than 4 pm. No matter what anyone said. After getting routine checkups for about a month, I stopped going to the clinic. I wasn’t better. Not by a long shot but at least physically, I was okay. Mentally? I was something else. I was barely sleeping because my dreams were haunted by him and I barely left the house besides to go to work because the thought of another man’s hands on my body drove me into a panic attack every time. I was living a nightmare but I was living. So it was as okay as it was going to get. Months went by and it got easier to go out in public. I never told anyone what happened to me but the few friends I had, noticed the shift in my personality. They never asked. I think they knew something unspeakable had happened and they were not sure how to handle it. They were there though. They were there for me in the way that they could be.
Five months later I faint at work and I’m rushed to the hospital. Guess what? I’m pregnant. I laughed when they told me. It was truly ridiculous. I thought it was a sick joke. My belly wasn’t big and that day, I was on my period(or at least I thought I was). They had to explain to me that it’s rare but it does happen. I think they thought I had gone mad because I couldn’t stop laughing. I went home that day and once I opened my door and saw my friends; Chidera, Michael and Sarah waiting for me for our monthly movie night, I got on my knees and began to cry. I told them everything. They held me all through the night. I had never felt more loved. The next day I left the house without telling them. I went to get pills to get rid of the demon. It’s been two months since that day. I have tried everything you can think of. Name it. I’ve taken the pill-TWICE, I’ve put alcohol out in the sun for hours then drank all of it, Andrew liver salt became my water at some point and a lot more than I can say. Yet, this baby has refused to leave and before you ask, no. I can’t get a procedure at a hospital. No one will abort a five-month pregnancy. Apparently, it’s too risky. Like I care!! With all I’ve done to rid myself of this baby I, in all honesty, don’t know how I’m still alive, expecting the child of a monster.
To be honest, I’m not sure what I’ll do when this baby comes out. If I can’t get rid of it before that time, I may just kill the thing with my own hands. Who knows?