Things are not the same as they were.

We meet at the ShopRite. I'm sixteen today. He tells me how My smile reminds him of his first love. Maybe the universe has sent me to teach him to love again. He is 43. I don't have my father. Maybe he will be a father to me.

We meet in his car. Do fathers' adjust your seat backwards and roughly fondle your breasts? Gluing his mouth to mine. He tells me to close my eyes. I close them really tight. I see the bleeding red behind my eyes. Maybe his love will bleed into me from his saliva. I don't have my father. Maybe my father would have shown me this type of love.

We meet at his house. I'm seventeen today. He tells me he will cook crabs for me, to celebrate my A's in Waec. He gives me red wine instead. To prepare my tongue for the pepperness of the crab. I start to see things his way. Distorted. I don't have a father. Maybe my father would have continued giving me crabs till I hated it and never craved it from this man. Maybe my father should have made me like spirits instead.

We meet at the hotel. He presses me to the wall until I feel something like wood digging into my back? I wish I bleached my skin that day so you could see the five fingers tattooed on my face. I don't have a father. Maybe my father would have not used leather to whip my body. Maybe my father would have not called me childish and possessed for shivering with fright in a corner because I do not want to lie on the bed.

We meet at the supermarket. I am eighteen today. He tells me that I'm looking mature for my age. And why am I growing taller? He asks if I have a younger sister. He tells me of a girl he met that reminds him of me. He tells me the love we have is coming to an end. I don't have a father. Maybe my father would have called me beautiful for growing into womanhood. Maybe my father would not replace our love. Maybe my father would have loved me.

We meet at his house. I am nineteen. I kiss him lovingly. Because he is the only father I have. His wife comes in and he pushes me away. He tells her I am his intern at work. Looking at her face she doesn't suspect a thing. How could she? I am not angry at him. He loves me? I am angry at her. She doesn't see that he loves me? I don't have a father. Maybe my father would have not rejected me. Maybe my father would ease my doubts.

We meet at the amusement park. I am twenty. He takes me on the boat ride. I am his little girl. He tells me I am not for him anymore. That he has found his first love again. I try to hug him but he pushes me away. He tells me I'm too big. I watch him with sadness. I don't have a father. Maybe my father would have called me his little girl.

We are still on the boat. But I watch him. It is evening now. Everywhere is peaceful. I want to be at peace. I grab an oar and hit the back of his head. I shove him out of the boat. There are no bubbles to mark his watery grave. Even the water is at peace. I don't have a father. Maybe my father is at peace.

Things are not the same anymore.

By: Homa Ejims

17/10/23 AD

PS: PAEDOPHILIA IS A CANCER IN AFRICA TODAY. ALMOST, IF NOT ALL AFRICAN CHILDREN HAVE HAD A RUN-IN/ EXPERIENCE WITH IT. SAVE THE MINORS.