A Teenager’s Revenge

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The big judge said I would be in jail for one year, for revenging on those who had hurt me, and I had been in jail for the last six months. What did I do? I was just 14 years of age, and this is my story:

It all began a year ago with a phone call from a strange man who said he wanted to speak to my mother

“She isn’t here,” I told him.

As I hung up the phone, I proceeded to finish my daily chores of cleaning my room before going outside to play when the phone rang again.

“Hello,” I said impatiently.

“Can I come over and play with you little girl?” asked the caller.

“Who is this, and what do you want?” I asked, curiously, for I was only fourteen years of age.

“I’m on my way over to your house to see your mom, and to play with you,” the voice said, mockingly.

“Well, she isn’t here right now, and I don’t play with men,” I said. They say curiosity always kills the cat. My own curiosity began to overwhelm me like so many other things normally do, so I proceeded with questions.

“How do you know my mother, did she tell you to call to see if I am home?”

“So, she isn’t home right?” the voice of the man asked, while refusing to answer my questions.

“Since you know where I live,” I replied. “Come and find out.” I hung up again on him.

Months later I would come to realize that by jokingly inviting this man to our house, it was considered pre-meditated, and that would become the defense.

After taking shower to go and hang out with my girlfriends, I heard an unexpected knock on our front door. Thinking that it could probably be mother, I rushed to the door, flinging it open.

Mother once beat me up for taking too long to open the door, and I didn’t want to feel that kind of pain again.

Standing there were two men I had never seen before, one was wearing a t-shirt that read ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy,’ while the other had on a shirt that was totally filthy, and an unshaven beard.

Looking down at their shoes, something that mother unconsciously taught me to do whenever men approached me.

“Can I help you?”

All hell broke loose by that simple question.

One of the men’s hands reached across my face.

“Ouch, that hurts,” I yelled.

By now I was blinded and his hand also covered my mouth.

“You have a sweet mouth little girl, just like how I had imagined,” I heard the voice, the same I had heard on the phone say.

He began to tear my clothes off my body. Oh Lord this could not be happening to me, I thought.

“You smell so sweet little girl,” the voice added.

I wiggled under his aggression and that’s when I felt it, something I was used to feeling by now, something that my mother forced me to feel on a daily bases whenever she brought men into our house to spend the night, a move that helped put food on our table.

“You’re so sweet little girl, so sweet,” a second voice said.

Suddenly, I stopped fighting and decided to lie still until the men were finished with me. It continued for seemed to me as hours, as each took turns with me.

The pain was so massive I could not feel my mid-section, but my legs and back were in terrible pain.

One of the men said, “We have to hurry up and leave now, she’s had enough, we only paid her mother for two hours with her.”

My mother?

Could this be possible? Yes, my mother had always tried to ruin my life and had told me that she didn’t want me by going out of her way to show me that I was an ‘unwanted child.’

Did my mother really send these men here to rape me, or was it one of her business propositions that she always prepared for me? Whatever the case, she always punished me, and this time, I promised not let it go.

It seemed like days had passed when one of the men lifted me from the ground and placed me unto our living room couch. “You can sleep now sweet thing, we’ll be seeing you,” his distant voice said.

I vomited at that instant. I knew I would no longer gain people’s respect, if they found out what had happened to me.

I closed my eyes and the Lord knew when I awoke up, but I awoke to a blurry vision of my mother sitting next to me.

“Pull up and come eat,” she said as if nothing had happened. I panicked as I looked around thinking that I would see my two assailants.

My mother pulled me into a standing position and shook me, “You didn’t do a good job Delphinia, the men complained that you resisted the whole time.”

She knew about my attack after all, and now here she was blaming me.

“Mother, I was raped, they hurt me so badly,” I began to cry.

“Ah man, don’t cry, at least we have us some money now,” she said.

I felt bitter and wanted to revenge. For weeks afterward, I decided that I would kill my mother for what she did to me. While in her room one night, I found where she kept her gun and decided to hold on to it for safe keeping in case I was ever attacked again.

One morning while eating breakfast, I had the gun hidden under the kitchen table when my mother came to me with another one of her schemes.

“This man wants to see you dear, so come and talk to him and help him,” she said.

Standing there next to my mother was the man who had raped me.

“Mama, that’s him,” I whispered minutes before he approached me.

I could not remember what happened after that, but as I came to myself minutes later, I realized that my mother and the rapist were lying dead on our kitchen floor.

Five minutes later, the police came for me.


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