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True Life Story: How Dad Bought Political Power With My Virgin Blood (A Must Read)

Pls, someone should tell me...how do I relate with a dad who rapes me just to win election?
 I went with Dad to the airport the night Mum and my siblings were travelling. We were all inside one of our cars, a Toyota Sienna van. Dad was driving, which made it more like a family outing because with about three drivers in his employ, he rarely had time to drive us. But that night, to my surprise, he offered to drive all of us to the airport. We got there two hours ahead of their boarding time, and left shortly after they started boarding. I rode home with my dad and that was when he gave me an inkling of what was worrying him.
“Vivian,” he said as he drove slowly, which seemed odd, considering what time of the day it was, “you are sixteen already. I still recollect the morning you were born sixteen years ago. It seems like yesterday. I know you would have loved to follow them to Canada. But I want to give you one promise this night, once you get into the university, I will fund a trip for you to any part of the world you want to go to.”
I smiled. “Is that a promise Dad?”....continue

“Sure it is,” he replied. “And you know whatever I promise, I do.”
“Okay, I am going to make it Dad. You know I have been studying very hard. I have the hope that I would make it,” I assured him.
“I decided that you would attend a university in Nigeria for one reason. But I will let you know someday, may be when you are through with your first degree. But I assure you, that your subsequent degrees would be abroad,” he said. It was not Dad’s first time of making the same comment,
After a while, our discussion drifted to his career in politics. “Vivian, will you like to be a politician?” He asked.
“No. I would rather opt for Mum’s business than politics. I want to be at home with my children, have time for them and do homework with them,” I replied.
Of course the answer I was giving him was born out of experience. Dad rarely spent time  at home with us. In fact, it was much better when he was practicing law. Then, he would always come home every evening clutching a bag of goodies from any of the fast food joints. He would settle down to ask us to explain what we learnt in school. But once he became a politician, things changed. He was always in one meeting or the other. Even when he would be at home, we would rarely have his attention. His phones would be ringing, and people, would be engaging him in endless discussions.
 “But politics is good. You see there is no profession in the world that can make you influential like politics. Agreed, it may take you away from home,” he defended. “But come to think of it, without politics, perhaps I would not be affording your school fees now, let alone funding holidays abroad for all of you.”
 “May be,” I said indifferently.
“But that is not the problem. The problem is that some people want to sack me,” he said, running his left hand through his hair. “Some people want me out of my job.”
“Which people, Dad?” I asked.
“You will not know these people my daughter. They have been scheming from left and right to make sure your daddy loses his position. We must all resist them,” he said.
“Daddy, do not worry. I am going to help you pray. Nobody will take your job away in Jesus’ name…Amen. I will continue to pray for you.” I said.
“Thank you, my daughter. I know I can always rely on you,” he said, and we continued with other issues until we got home that night.
        *                        *           *
That night, while I was locked in the comfort of my room, my mind was wandering, thinking of what I would do to save my daddy’s job. I knew he rarely had time for us, but unemployment was worse.
I knew what my classmate and friend, Nike had to suffer since her father lost his job in the bank. Nike who used to come to school in a Mercedes S class, wear expensive shoes and carry D&G schoolbags, suddenly found it difficult to enter a bus. Then she used to be the hottest item, but suddenly things changed for her, and she became an outcast in school. I knew that I would not like to go through that kind of thing. I needed to do something in my capacity as my father’s daughter.
That was when an idea hit me. Another friend of mine, Nkechi had previously narrated a story to me in this regards, so I took my phone from under my pillow and called her.
“Vivian, it’s midnight,” she complained.
“You said I can call you anytime I want. Is that not why we are friends?” I asked her, laughing.
“What is the problem?” She asked at the onset of a yawn.
“Can you come to my house tomorrow? Say 9.30am?” I said.
“The problem is that our driver is sick. Nobody will bring me,” she said.
“Call a taxi. I will pay. It’s important we see please.” I urged her.
“Okay, no problem. Good night,” she said hurriedly and hung up.
Nkechi and I had breakfast in our house that morning but I did not tell her what the matter was until we got into my room. I started by reminding her of something that transpired between us two months earlier.
 “You told me how your mum almost lost her job sometime ago, right?” I said.
“Yes, that was two months ago,” she said. “One woman in her office wanted her out of their office. The woman went and cooked some documents which she hoped to use to implicate Mum. But it did not work for her.” She said.
“Yes, but you told me your mum went to see someone who helped her, right?” I said.
“Yes. He is a prophet. He prayed for my mum, and told my mum that the woman would be the one to lose her job. Two weeks later, the woman got sacked. Why are you asking me all these questions, Vivian?”
“Somebody wants to sack my dad,” I said flatly.
“You father is a politician,” she remarked.
“Some people are scheming to remove him from his position so I need the help of that prophet. Can you give me the man’s number?”
“My mum is the person who has it.” She said.
“Can I call your mum to ask for the number?” I requested.
“No, she may not like the idea that I gisted about that issue with you or anyone else for that matter,” she said.
“Okay, try scrolling through your mum’s phone. You could see the number in her phone book.” I suggested.
“That’s it. I will text it to you, if I get it,” she said.
Five hours or so later, Nkechi’s message came into my phone with the number. It was a great relief. I did not waste any time. I dialed the number and engaged the man in a discussion.
“I am wondering if you can help me,” I said when he answered.
“Well, it is God that helps. We are only tools in His hands”, he said. “What is the problem?”
I explained to him how my father’s position as a politician was being threatened.
“Where is your dad?” He asked me.
“He is hardly around,” I replied.
He waited for a while, perhaps thinking of how best to handle my situation. At the end he asked if I had a pen with me.
“Yes, I do”, I replied.
“I will give you some scriptures you would read for three days. I am leaving for the mountain tomorrow morning. So you would have to call me in three days so we can meet face to face. Is that okay with you?”
“It’s okay, “ I said. He later dictated the scriptures and how I would be reciting them. Of course, he also told me that the best time for such prayers was 12 midnight. I thanked him, and promised to start that night.
·               *        *
I was in the middle of the prayer session that night when Dad opened the door to my room and walked in. It was unusual for him to come into my room, but perhaps, it was the prayer I was saying. He just sat on the bed and waited for me to finish.
“Good that you are praying for me not to lose my job. That is why I will eternally be grateful to you,” he said. “But Vivian, I have made enquiries and I have realized that you have the key to my job.”
“Me? How?” I asked him.
“Let me ask you something, Vivian. Is there anything that you cannot give up for me? No, let me put it better, is it bad for a girl to lose her virginity to someone that loves her dearly instead of one fool outside?” He asked.
“I do not understand,” I said, and I honestly I did not. The question seemed too heavy for me.
“Vivian, let me tell you the truth. You have the key to my job. And you can give me the job by losing your virginity to me right now,” he said.
Before I could utter any words, my dad had me in his grip. I tried to push him away, but he tightened his grip, confirming that it was not a joke. I tried to scream, but he was quick to block my mouth with his hand. The scream would not have had any effect though, because there were just two of us in the twelve-room mansion. The domestic staff in the compound live in the building at the back.
We struggled and at a point, I just knew that I would not be able to win that war, because I became tired. He was desperate, and his determination was written all over his face, leaving me wondering if this man was actually my dad, the man who meant the world to me; the man I used to brag to my friends in school about and had etched his image on my soul as the warmest man in the world?
In calculated desperation, he pinned me to the far end of the bed, holding my mouth with his hand so I could not shout.  Then he lowered his body down on mine, triggering this benumbing and sharp feelings on my abdomen. It was a quick exercise and as soon as he was done, he rose to his feet and walked out of the room after taking a critical look at me. I could not read the look on his face, was it regret, satisfaction or triumph?
I just lay on the bed sobbing, filled with hate for the circumstances I found myself in. On impulse, I reached for my phone, so I could call my mum in Canada to tell her what had happened. But the phone was gone. It was not where I left it. It only dawned on me that Dad had removed it when he returned to the room some minutes later with the phone. I let out a huge scream, out of fear that he wanted to rape me again.
“No, stop screaming, I am not coming for you”, he said quietly. “In fact, I came to apologize to you. I would appreciate if you can look at me.”
I did, but what I saw was a monster, a devil I wished I could crush with my hands the way we crush ants.
“Please, find a space in your heart to forgive me. I need to win the election. You know if I do not win, we will all go hungry and things will not be as rosy as it has been. Look at all the things you will lose if I fail to win. That means, I will not be able to buy you clothes and good shoes,” he stretched his hands towards me to appease me but I cringed and moved to the furthest part of the bed. As far as I was concerned those were leprous hands.
He continued. “I know you must have tried calling your mum in Canada. Please do not tell anyone about this. Do not think that you have done something that is very bad…you see all the rich men you see everywhere do the same thing to their daughters and nobody knows about it.”
“Please leave me alone,” was what I could say in very hoarse voice that sounded unlike me. But the next minute, I let out a shrieking sound like someone who was going mad, and he quickly jumped out of the room.
For the first two days, I did not speak to anyone. I just confined myself to the room, sobbing most of the times, and ignoring the pleas by my dad who would come in from time to time. One of our house maids, Maria had become worried when she noticed that the meals they had been serving me were always returned intact. She managed to come to my room, something she did rarely, because of the way the house was partitioned.
“You have not eaten for days now…are you fasting? Why is your face like this?” she looked shocked that a radiant girl like me was looking gloomy, disheveled.
“Please, leave me alone,” was all I could tell her, but when she began to insist on knowing what was wrong with me, I shouted at her and she left the room as fast as her legs could carry her.
Later, that evening, what appeared like succour gave way to a new wave of shock and great depression for me. My dad walked in with my phone which had been with him all the while to inform me that I had a call. I was not in the mood to speak with anyone so I brushed it aside.
“It’s your mum, calling from Canada,” he said encouragingly.
I started sobbing as I grabbed the phone from him with fury, because Mum was someone I could confide in always. Her voice would soothe the pain that was enveloping me, I reasoned.
“Hello Mummy,” I said through sobs.
“Don’t Mummy me, Vivian. You are a big fool. Why do you want to ruin your father? What do you think you will gain? I wish I am there so that I can twist your neck for you. How dare you accuse your father of rape? You want his political detractors to have a field day? How dare you accuse your father of something he did not and can never do?”
“Mummy, it’s not what happened,” I tried to say but she would not hear a word from me. She kept shouting at me, accusing me of being bewitched by my father’s political opponents who are bent on having me accuse my father of rape.
The development has brought depression surging through my system, especially now that Mum has also been indoctrinated to believe I am possessed owing to what she said a prophet told them earlier. Who would hear my version of the story? What kind of human is my dad, who can go to any length to have his way?

Elections have come and gone. Dad won. He has retained his position and my family will continue to live in the lifestyle they have been used to except that this time, it was bought with my virgin blood. Dad has offered to send me abroad for my university education this fall October; no one wants to be confronted with my gloomy presence.

I will take his offer but I know that I am never going to be his daughter again. I will never come back home, never!

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