Dear AdaUbo; "The Devil is in Details"

The devil is in Details.It was a Thursday evening, I walked into st. Michael catholic church in Ngwo to make a confession. it was time to lead a new life. Although I wasn’t born a catholic, i was familiar with some catholic proceedings due to where I schooled. I found myself at the end of the confession queue. when it was finally my turn, I approached the confessional and knelt beside it. The priest gave me a nod, signaling that I could begin then I went thus.

Love has always been a cocktail of various flavors since inception and often what love means to me differs from what it is to you. Our individual perspectives shape our understanding of love. I grew up and met the act of love and loving as a norm in my community and I came to love the people around me. This was the established order of things until I encountered a young girl in my street. She once complimented my perfume, composure and steeze, sparking our first conversation. Over time we became friends, exchanging pleasantries whenever our paths crossed. Initially, our discussions revolved around academics, society, and religion. However, one day, when she visited me, I realized that the devil was in the details.

I began to see a total stranger flawless, her name was Obianuju, which means “to come where there is plenty.” I often called her Adaubo, because in our hometown, every girl child from their kindred was referred to as “Adaubo”. I became fond of her much like the purple hibiscus blooming outside my window--a sight I always admired. I was 25 and she was a 14-year-old sweet girl approaching her prime. To nurture this delicate connection, I decided to keep our affair private until she was old enough. She was a dark-skinned girl, with a tiny waist, and a beautiful smile.

Her physique was set apart, one could tell she had potentials that would yield a curvy body. She was a girl of many pages and often unfolded like a magazine. She developed innocent affection towards me, and I responded positively to her interest, even when I could have stopped that immature feelings and educate her properly, but I took advantage of her innocence, exploited her naive mind and she offered me her flower like a piece of a cake for just a penny (Netflix and chill).

The first day she visited, after we discussed at length, one thing led to the other and I touched her inappropriately. That same day, I took her pride with ease in exchange, sold my respect, composure and steeze right before her eyes. Ever since that day, she became a sex object in my eyes. There were times I explored Obianuju non-stop for weeks and it seems her genital organs were being forced to mature before its due time. There were days, we ventured more in pain and pleasure, she would end up crying bitterly and I would let her cry out in my arms before letting her leave. she went From being a girl of too much water, to losing the taste and pleasure that came with orgasm.

She once told me that she couldn’t differentiate between pain and pressure anymore.Honestly i made her do a lot of unimaginable things with me. The year she turned 18, I got to know, she was from one of those families in my community that weren’t allowed to be joined in matrimony with others, yet the affair, didn’t stop. Although I already knew at that point that we wouldn’t end up together, yet I kept promising her love and marriage deceitfully, because that is my only access to own her.

The things I did with her, caught off her tongue and left her speechless in life and as she grew older, most people thought she was an introvert not knowing she was a victim. I exposed her to materials things and every day the poor girl got addicted more and more. We started having an affair from when she was 14, till this day, tomorrow will be her 25th birthday. I have taught of many gifts, but nothing would be more deserving right now other than the truth. She was no longer appealing to me, no matter how hard she tried to spice things up; she had become a junkyard in my eyes. This sweet girl had turned into a girl of easy virtue, with two abortions attributed to my name. Often, she couldn't meet my gaze without shedding tears.I betrayed Adaubo despite all the promises I made to her while I caressed her. In summary, I gave her "Grief as a souvenir for Love."

I had the chance to correct Obianuju's mixed, immature feelings and mentor her rightly, yet I chose to be a pedophile. I regret every one of my actions and wish I could go back and make amends, but wishes are not horses.

When I finished expressing myself, I heard the priest take a deep breath and pause for a moment before responding. His voice, trembling and mixed with tears, echoed softly...

The End.

P.S.:

These stories do not belong to us, but they are ours to tell and, in essence, use to educate.

Parents, walk with me:

Closer attention towards your kids is very vital, especially those in their teenage years. They are exposed to many things and need proper guidance. Our society is full of men like the character I described, and if you do not educate your little princes and princesses, others will theoretically and practically educate them for you. parents, have sex education conversations with your kids. Discuss the do's and don'ts, and always have uncomfortable and sensitive conversations with them about these topics. A stitch in time saves nine.