THIS WORLD IS NOT MY HOME

I totally forgot how to smile in that moment. I wasn't sure how to carry my face. There was a lot of tension with fingers clinging tightly to my purse. I was in shock when my boyfriend introduced me to Dennis.

We called him "uncle Dennis"  back in primary school. He still had that smile that revealed his dark gum.

 "Hello dear," he said. That voice was like a bell in my head that brought back memories I never wanted ever again. I could feel his sinister presence all over again and instantly, my head began to ache. It took me years to bury that ugly scene with "Uncle Dennis" - where was amnesia when I needed it?

The bastard still smelt the same way but looked a lot different this time. He came off quite expensive and classy. To me, he would forever be the ugly sick pervert that molested the virgin memory of my infant body.

My boyfriend said Dennis was a friend of his brother who later became his friend. Sometimes, I wonder what this category of persons still do, sharing oxygen with the rest of us. Perhaps, life can only be lived when there is always something bad happening.

Things happened to me at the age of 9; "Uncle Dennis" happened to me. I thought time healed all wounds, I guess I was wrong all along because all the hairs on my skin yearned for a knife on his throat when he smiled.

The idiot! 

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It is not a lie when people say that almost every female child has experienced sexual molestation while growing up. It is quite frankly, a dangerous thing to live in a world filled with men, who think they have the right to touch females whenever and wherever they please.

You find these men on the bus, in church, at the mosque, on an ATM queue, at the market and in hell, burning from the crown sitting pretty on their unrepentant heads to their fractured toes (don't ask me if I have been to hell)

There was a time I was right at the edge of a bus, seated close to the door. The male passenger sitting close to me wanted to get off and was quite impatient about it. I had to get off so he could get off too. But when I was about alighting, this wicked fellow thought it was wise to use his hand to caress my butt, intentionally! I was livid and he got served a bowl of craze on that hot Tuesday morning.

This sick character amongst some men has long been in existence, unfortunately. It's a wonder why bad things find new ways to exist in this world. Truly, this world can never be my home.