The first night at Aunty Amaka's house, I felt a hand touch my body

The first night at Aunty Amaka's house, I felt a hand touch my body.

The room was dark as of the time the incident took place. Gently, I moved to the wall where the switch was, and I freaked out by the time I flipped the toggle switch and saw Aunty Amaka's husband in the room. He leaned against the wall.

"What are you doing in my room?" I bellowed.

He moved toward me, saying quietly, "This is my house; more words from you, and I will throw you out into the street."

"You can not possibly throw me out of the house without Aunty Amaka's consent" I talked back to him.

He stood staring intently at me; he knew I was telling the truth. Aunty Amaka was like the husband of the house; she controlled him like he was a maid in the house.

He mustered the courage to speak out, " I know I can not throw you out of the house but I can cook up lies that would make her throw you out without second thought."

I looked at him helplessly and asked, "What do you want from me?"

He chuckled softly like one who got a second bite at the cherry, "I want to taste your cookies."

"But I don't have any cookies with me..." I expressed my ignorance.

He stretched his hands toward my bre_asts, "Of course, you have sweet cookies," He said, caressing the two soft, busty objects on my chest.

At that point, I was tinged with sadness; how would he treat me like I was a roadside hooker? My heart was broken; he wouldn't try such with me if my parents were alive, so I thought.

His warm hand moved back and forth trailing his finger down to my stomach while I lay on the bed thinking about the way to discipline the nuisance before me.

Boom! The perfect thought erupted - there was a cup filled with some cold water on the table close to the bed, and as he leaned down to kiss my lips, I poured the water on him.

He rose to his feet and tottered like a big man with the spindly legs of a child. I felt like I had won a trophy.

At five in the morning, I heard a knock on the door; it was my Aunty, "Amara, wake up, it's time for devotion," She said to me.

Aunty Amaka had just two children - a boy and a girl. They lived in a rented apartment - the size of the living room was like a cubicle, it was a tight squeeze in the room.

The old ceiling fan, with its rhythmic whirring sound, was the only source of relief in the stifling heat.

While they sang various Christian songs, I nodded off; Aunty Amaka gave me a knock on the head by the time she noticed I was not moving my lips, "Open your mouth and sing."

Her children laughed at me, and then the younger daughter asked her elder brother, "She looks weird; where's she from?."

"I don't know, perhaps you can ask Mom," He answered.

She was impatient; she had to interrupt the devotion, "Who is she, and where is she from?."

I thought Aunty Amaka would have reprimanded her, but to my greatest surprise, she graciously replied to her daughter.

Scornfully, she said to her daughter, "She's our new maid."

Her husband scoffed, "She is a maid?."

The children looked at me and then said to their mom, "She doesn't look like a maid."

This time, she hushed them, "Ssshh, close your eyes let's pray."

I couldn't fathom the reason she referred to me as a maid.

After the prayers, she dropped the bomb, "Amara, from now onward, you will stop going to your former school until I find a better school I can afford."

"But, Dad left enough money for my education " I complained bitterly.

"I can't access the money for now," She told me.

My face was tight and my lips pressed together, I left the god-damned living room to the kitchen - I had a pile of dirty dishes waiting to be properly washed.

Story continues....

Tales of An Orphan

Episode Two

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