Part 2 Coffee stains a decade and the things we don’t say out loud
Pax smiles. “Oh yeah, that happened. But I can talk about it now. It doesn’t faze me as much because I got help. And anyone who went through what I went through must also get help. It's time people start talking about it openly as part of the healing process.”
I can’t breathe shocked, moved, desperate to know more.
He laughs, catching the hunger in my eyes. “Dis klienkies, you know... the uncle doing that. Just normal family stuff.” He says sarcastically.
“How did it happen? Does your family know?” I stammer.
He chuckles, exhales, sweeping the discomfort away. “Let’s just say the Topi and him don’t talk anymore.”
His gaze drifts. “You know how I remember it? I was at a social worker’s office. I knew something had happened to me but couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Then the memory came one day while I was watching TV. My friend who was with me told me to go see a social worker.”
He chuckles. “I think we underestimate the government social workers or at least where they get things right. When she heard the story, she acted with urgency and opened a case. I thank God for that.”
He looks away, visibly uncomfortable. “She saved my life, man. Anyways, that doesn’t mean there isn’t contention in the family because I have a case against my uncle...”
He now sits up, looking at me as he recites: “One vakansie I was sent to my uncle. I’d been naughty, so the Topi thought I should stay with his strict superintendent brother. The family had heard the rumours always fired from different boys’ hostels. Catch my drift?” He winks, half-joking, half-disgusted.
“My father thought he wouldn’t do it to me... or maybe he just didn’t care.”
“I didn’t speak to the Topi for years,” he sighs. “The scandal is still an open secret. Everyone knows who this man is, but the family protects him because what will people say about us? I mean, I am sort of the villain for exposing that...”
Pax leans back, jaw tight. “He doesn’t have a hold on me anymore though...”
I want to say indifference isn’t healing, but I just nod. Each to their own.
He smirks. “I think I’m normal, eish except for the part where I attract psychotic women. Three toxic baby mamas as we speak.”
I try not to laugh, but it slips. The absurdity coils in my throat as I sip cold coffee.
He talks about healing, how long it took, how it isn’t linear. “But I’m not where I started,” he says.
Shaking his head at the coffee: “We could be at Scara’s car wash with a big cold Zamalek.”
I chuckle. “How sure are you that it wasn't witchcraft?”
He shrugs. “Could be. But he seemed to enjoy it. A pedo’s a pedo. Doesn’t matter the reason.”
Then he pauses, quieter now. “You know what I struggled with the most? I kind of...uhm... I mean, my d!ck was hard.”
My mouth goes dry. I can’t believe how easily he admits this.
I chuckle nervously, then confess, “I understand. I was wet when I was raped.”
His eyes widen. This time, it’s his turn to be surprised.
Ozon?u Chronicles uncovers the secrets that never see daylight. Each story is fiction. Yet, as you read, you may sense that reality has already whispered its own version. For readers 18 and older.
I can’t breathe shocked, moved, desperate to know more.
He laughs, catching the hunger in my eyes. “Dis klienkies, you know... the uncle doing that. Just normal family stuff.” He says sarcastically.
“How did it happen? Does your family know?” I stammer.
He chuckles, exhales, sweeping the discomfort away. “Let’s just say the Topi and him don’t talk anymore.”
His gaze drifts. “You know how I remember it? I was at a social worker’s office. I knew something had happened to me but couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Then the memory came one day while I was watching TV. My friend who was with me told me to go see a social worker.”
He chuckles. “I think we underestimate the government social workers or at least where they get things right. When she heard the story, she acted with urgency and opened a case. I thank God for that.”
He looks away, visibly uncomfortable. “She saved my life, man. Anyways, that doesn’t mean there isn’t contention in the family because I have a case against my uncle...”
He now sits up, looking at me as he recites: “One vakansie I was sent to my uncle. I’d been naughty, so the Topi thought I should stay with his strict superintendent brother. The family had heard the rumours always fired from different boys’ hostels. Catch my drift?” He winks, half-joking, half-disgusted.
“My father thought he wouldn’t do it to me... or maybe he just didn’t care.”
“I didn’t speak to the Topi for years,” he sighs. “The scandal is still an open secret. Everyone knows who this man is, but the family protects him because what will people say about us? I mean, I am sort of the villain for exposing that...”
Pax leans back, jaw tight. “He doesn’t have a hold on me anymore though...”
I want to say indifference isn’t healing, but I just nod. Each to their own.
He smirks. “I think I’m normal, eish except for the part where I attract psychotic women. Three toxic baby mamas as we speak.”
I try not to laugh, but it slips. The absurdity coils in my throat as I sip cold coffee.
He talks about healing, how long it took, how it isn’t linear. “But I’m not where I started,” he says.
Shaking his head at the coffee: “We could be at Scara’s car wash with a big cold Zamalek.”
I chuckle. “How sure are you that it wasn't witchcraft?”
He shrugs. “Could be. But he seemed to enjoy it. A pedo’s a pedo. Doesn’t matter the reason.”
Then he pauses, quieter now. “You know what I struggled with the most? I kind of...uhm... I mean, my d!ck was hard.”
My mouth goes dry. I can’t believe how easily he admits this.
I chuckle nervously, then confess, “I understand. I was wet when I was raped.”
His eyes widen. This time, it’s his turn to be surprised.
Ozon?u Chronicles uncovers the secrets that never see daylight. Each story is fiction. Yet, as you read, you may sense that reality has already whispered its own version. For readers 18 and older.
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