Survival

20210422_182006

 

SURVIVAL OF THE SMARTEST

 Let’s just say our destiny as females was to come and suffer in the world of the male specie. Or were we just cursed to be related by them? I’d sit down at my window at night and wonder where I had gone wrong being a girl in a private school. Well, technically not just a girl but a poor girl. My classmates, rich and influuencial kids, were psychopaths. Never friendly, arrogant and cunning. Ohh, perhaps the reason why I was cursed was because I was lucky? Who gets the opportunity to attend a private secondary school on a scholarship despite coming from a poor background? Who am I to think I can make friends with all these kids? Definitely not the daughter of a primary school teacher earning a meager salary and doesn’t care about what happens to his child. 

   I was always alone. At school and at home. Sometimes gazing out of the window- into nothingness. Anyone passing by would wonder about what a child like me could be thinking about. After all, girls know nothing but think about boys, junks and gist right? If only they knew I was only grabbing every ounce of joy and sanity I could. I was in a realm where everything in the world was bright and calm unlike the real world where girls don’t cry at school and act like everything is okay though not okay at home. My parents didn’t have time for themselves and when they did, they’d not waste time before they start arguing over senseless things. I dreamt of a place where I had friends and we’d do nothing but dress each other up and have parties, not having a single care in the world. But what could I do? They were all but fantasies. What a world…

   As stated earlier, that fantasy wasn’t my destiny. They were never to come to pass. I was a girl destined to live a miserable life confined within my dark hole where no one was allowed to befriend me, no one wanted to anyways. And life was my teacher, a teacher that didn’t spare me at all. The only school I knew was intimidation, stress, anguish and later…. Rape.

   I’d always been bullied by my seniors, mates and even juniors. Some teachers also hated me for being the smartest kid in class but does that even make sense? Aren’t teachers supposed to be happy for their students? But I guess that’s how my own teachers have been destined to be.

              “Nice girls don’t get raped,” I heard one say.

            “Heard she was rude, let’s see if she’ll still be.” I heard another say but I was too weak to pick out who was who among them. And those were the kind words I got after being ganged raped by 5 males- 2 young teachers and 3 senior students known for their brutality.

   I had been told to stay back after school by one of the teachers, Mr. Augustus, my math teacher. Not knowing why and being the first time being pointed out in class to stay back, I decided it was best for me to heed the instruction. ‘It could be in respect of my grades,’ I thought. But what did staying back in school get me? Getting injected and dragged to the back of the staff block, recorded on a phone and thereafter left to my fate in an unconscious state. It wasn’t even a surprise listening to the good samaritan who later helped me telling someone that he called my parents but they probably didn’t hear him because they were in the middle of a heated argument. Didn’t he know that was my life?

   And that’s how I ended up as the main attraction at the inter house sport and the talk of the school for the rest of the term. What hurt most was that everyone thought I deserved it even my parents. The next term, i got a call from a new poor girl like me who was a scholar too asking me if I wanted revenge for what happened to me the previous term and i told her I wanted nothing more. That’s how I ended up in The Survival’s Train, watching in amazement as 9 boys- including 4 other boys who later saw an opportunity to have their way with me because of the video- were killed one by one, their screams of agony sweet in my ears and their manhood taken off by the aid of a scissors in my hand. It was a small price to pay; for the trauma they caused me and the virus they infected me with. I am one of the smartests and that is my story.

Share this:


Like
Like Love Haha Wow Sad Angry
134
Did you enjoy this story? Then pay a tip:

Tip author


What do you think?

  1. Carefully written, meticulously crafted, and mind blowing.
    Talk about the sudden switch of tone from pity to being a conquerer.

    More ink to your pen 👍

Join The Tell! Community

Read, and write on Africa's most creative community for writers, thinkers and storytellers

Get Started 

%d bloggers like this: