Extracurricular Activities (Part 2)
Your head is still spinning round and round and round when you come back into the class. You ask everyone of your pupil to sit in their chairs and put their heads on their desk. The school is against such system of the kids idling away while they could be doing something, but you need the break, you try to convince yourself.
Your face is buried in your palms on the table, your eyes shut tight, but the images keep flouting. One and two and three at a time. You keep hearing the voices over and over again. Lifting your head from the table, you put your hands over your ears to stop them from coming in. But they aren’t there. They are buried in your soul. And then you hear his voice, your life coach’s voice. He’s saying;
‘ex-you were in the past, is- you are in the present, t- you will transcend to the future, that means to ‘exist’.
But you want to do more than just exist. Everyone exists, only a few find their essence. ‘What is your essence?’ You think to yourself.
You let the tears run down your cheeks this time. Some of the kids are watching you, so you leave the class for the staff bathroom, and lock the door behind you. You cry the more. You are eight years again, and you can feel those old hands in your centre. It’s a pleasurable torture. His breath smells of alcohol.
“Father what are you doing to me? ’’ you ask.
‘You’ll find out daughter.’ He says and takes you then. His length stretching your mind and filling you with more than a child should have. You cry out but it’s only momentary. The pleasures cascades your mind. He kept coming back and now you’re a woman, you wonder how Simi and Seyi got this far.
You’re twelve again and he still comes every night. You anticipate it like you would a dream. And the boys in school, they know your body like they would a graph. And it seems like its happening all over again, you feel their hands everywhere on you, squeezing, taking, groping. And you still wonder how Simi and Seyi got this far.
You’d always wished there had been someone you could have talked to, until you met your life coach. Now you wonder how you’d coach these ones.
You’re back in class. School is over, the pupils are leaving.
‘Simi, Seyi, wait back in class’ you say, but again, it’s only a whisper.
Your face is buried in your palms on the table, your eyes shut tight, but the images keep flouting. One and two and three at a time. You keep hearing the voices over and over again. Lifting your head from the table, you put your hands over your ears to stop them from coming in. But they aren’t there. They are buried in your soul. And then you hear his voice, your life coach’s voice. He’s saying;
‘ex-you were in the past, is- you are in the present, t- you will transcend to the future, that means to ‘exist’.
But you want to do more than just exist. Everyone exists, only a few find their essence. ‘What is your essence?’ You think to yourself.
You let the tears run down your cheeks this time. Some of the kids are watching you, so you leave the class for the staff bathroom, and lock the door behind you. You cry the more. You are eight years again, and you can feel those old hands in your centre. It’s a pleasurable torture. His breath smells of alcohol.
“Father what are you doing to me? ’’ you ask.
‘You’ll find out daughter.’ He says and takes you then. His length stretching your mind and filling you with more than a child should have. You cry out but it’s only momentary. The pleasures cascades your mind. He kept coming back and now you’re a woman, you wonder how Simi and Seyi got this far.
You’re twelve again and he still comes every night. You anticipate it like you would a dream. And the boys in school, they know your body like they would a graph. And it seems like its happening all over again, you feel their hands everywhere on you, squeezing, taking, groping. And you still wonder how Simi and Seyi got this far.
You’d always wished there had been someone you could have talked to, until you met your life coach. Now you wonder how you’d coach these ones.
You’re back in class. School is over, the pupils are leaving.
‘Simi, Seyi, wait back in class’ you say, but again, it’s only a whisper.
Written by: Ghost Writer
Comments