The Wife ESCAPED!

It was almost daybreak when Caro woke up the next day. She was startled to find herself in a sitting position in a shop’s verandah. How had she managed to spend the whole night here without coming to any harm? Never having been a victim of a successful rape, she was very scared. Was it possible to get raped while you were asleep and never know you had been raped? If she was the Caro of old, she would not have bothered about all this because that Caro slept with one eye open. But being the new Caro, she really could not trust herself.

For the past nine months or so, she had been used to sleeping uninterruptedly and comfortably in Trisha’s house. In fact, she was sure that if the world had collapsed last night, she would not have stirred.

Quickly pulling up her gown, she checked (with wildly beating heart) her legs, her thighs and panties for signs of rape, signs that she would not be able to identify even if she were to see them.

Having satisfied herself that everything was normal and there was nothing suspicious to be seen, she got to her feet and walked to the main road. The area was desolate, but she could see some early sellers making their way to the place to come set up their shop or stalls for the day’s business.

Caro was now feeling pressed, so she quickly made her way to the nearby bushes. After an almost successful rape attempt when she was just 12, she had since learned to never urinate in public by squatting. Instead, she surveyed her environment before planting both feet firmly on the ground. Her eyes were alert and roving about as she bent her knees, rolled down her panties and urinated. Only when she had left the bush and returned to the main road did she feel relaxed.

She walked for almost an hour along the road, putting more and more distance between herself and Trisha’s house. But as the sun came up, she began to feel weary and hungry. It was still too early for most shops to open, so as a result, there were a lot of closed shops by the roadside. She chose one that had adequate shade and went to sit on its verandah.

For the first time since she left Trisha’s house, she began to evaluate her situation. Where would she go? What would she do? How would she feed? But all these questions were created by the answer to one big question: what were her parents doing here in Lagos? The obvious answer was that they had come for her. And what had she done as a result? Run away, of course. But was that a good choice? She could have asked to stay with Trisha. But then, she was still not an adult and Trisha was neither her guardian nor a family member. Now that she had run away, she had effectively plunged herself into another unexpected round of homelessness. But was it worth it? What if her parents had had a change of heart? She knew very well that that was the closest thing to impossible, but it felt good to think that it could be very possible. And what would they do now that they had not found her at Trisha’s? They could accuse the poor woman of using their daughter for money rituals! How on earth would Trisha defend herself? She was rich and a girl was missing! Knowing the mentality of her parents, Caro could swear that they would surely make the connection. But why for Christ sakes did they not remain in the village and forget all about her? Why would they not just leave her alone in peace? Since the day of her birth, they had never allowed her to have a nice life and now that she had found it, they were here again to interrupt it. What did she do wrong? And now, they might have also put Trisha in trouble. The thought of the poor, kind woman getting in trouble for helping her made Caro’s heart ache and tears fall freely down her cheeks. She would have loved to go back and give herself up in order to vindicate the dear woman, but unfortunately, Trisha would be more likely to hand her over to her parents now more than ever. She had not only lacked the chance of having a caring family, she had also missed the chance of living a good life, perhaps the only chance in her lifetime.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

After Caro had exhausted her little store of energy in the production of tears, she dried her face and got to her feet. She had resolved to go back home to the village. She was tired of running, she had to take the fight to the doorstep of the enemy. She was angry, frustrated and hopeless. In fact, she was ready to die!

Her gown had a tiny pocket on each side; that was where she tucked her hands into as she hit the road again, more determined than ever. But she soon came to a sudden halt. Her fingers could feel something in one of her gown’s pockets and she quickly pulled it out. It was money! Two hundred naira at that. So all she needed to do was find a bus and… Just then, a rickety more-brown-than-its-real-white-color bus drove past her and came to a halt just a stone-throw away.

The conductor jumped down and two women were helped or rather, thrown out of the bus amid grumblings and insults. Caro did not waste any time. Before the last of the women, who were clearly shop owners, could finish getting her ‘load’ from the back, Caro had run to the conductor.

“Where?”, he demanded haughtily. She mentioned the only part of Aunt Rosa’s address that she could remember.

“Oya, enter enter enter. Hold your change o!”, he shouted as she climbed in.

She did not know how much it was to her destination, but she did not care. Come rain or shine, she would get there.

The conductor had jumped in after her and called for the driver to ‘fire down’ even though she had not yet found a seat. She held tightly onto any part of the vehicle her hand could grab as she surveyed the crowded bus for an empty seat. All the rows were full and she wondered which seats the women who had just alighted had occupied.

“Make una shift for back there,” the conductor ordered, coming to her rescue.

Little space was made for her at the last row and she managed to maneuver there and occupy it. She was now seated between an elderly man and a young man.