ROSES ARE RED, PAIN IS BLACK

It all began in the year 2011 when I was in SS3 preparing for my WAEC examinations. I met him on Facebook. He was first gay person I got to know – his name, Prince Frank Izuchukwu. I was 16 and he was 25. I was schooling in Awka and he was in Unizik. Our chatversation flowed smoothly, we were getting acquainted and I was blown away by the fact that I was finally communicating with someone like me, someone who liked boys, someone who was homosexual. My excitement was made evident when I took up his offer to meet without much persuasion. We agreed we would meet at his family house in Nnewi.

On that agreed day, I got dressed in denim trousers and a white T-shirt, an outfit I smuggled into the school hostel, applied my Caprice perfume, packed a small bag and I was ready to go. Of course I couldn’t just waltz out through the school gate; I had to jump over the school fence and took a bike to Eastern Mass Transit per Frank’s instruction. After about forty-five minutes, I was dropping at Maria Regina College as instructed.

The weather was hot, so I had to seek shelter with a woman who sold recharge card before putting a call through to Frank to let him know that I was at the agreed destination. After a couple of minutes that felt like hours, there he was on his red bike, beckoning me to join him. We drove to his family house and he introduced me to his cheerful mother before offering me drinks and insisting that I rest afterwards. Later in the evening, he told his mother that we were going for a vigil, and we zoomed off to his aunt’s house where he had more privacy. The aunt was a gracious host; she made dinner and we all ate with her family before retiring to bed.

That night, my innocence was taken from me. It wasn’t a painful experience though, considering the fact that Frank’s dick was very small.

The rest of the weekend went by in flash. I was smitten by his loving stares, kind words, stolen kisses, the way I cuddled him from behind as he sped about on his bike. Sunday came too quickly and I had to leave since I’d be having my mock practical on Food and Nutrition on Monday. For the practical, we went fruit shopping for the mixed fruit juice and fruit salad I planned on making on Monday. I felt sad and hollow as we said our goodbyes at the bus station, and soon, I was being conveyed away from Nnewi back to Awka.

My practical exam went really well. And my love life was going really well, as Frank would call almost every night even though we chatted all the time. The Mock results came out and I passed. So basically, I had a glow and everything was alright with the world.

I was however in for a very rude awakening.

The days sped by and soon, it was time for the WASSCE exams proper. A few days before the exams, Frank requested that I come see him. I told I had my WASSCE to worry about, so I wasn’t sure I could make it. He pleaded and pleaded, but I maintained that I couldn’t.

Thereafter, he sent me a long text, mostly ranting about how I was not being fair to him and shii. And then he ended it with: “…think about the number…” And typed alongside the words was my MOTHER’S NUMBER!

I was instantly panicked and called him back to ask what that meant and how he got my mother’s phone number. He brushed aside my query and said he just wanted to see me. I told him insistently that I was busy preparing for my exams. He said okay and disconnected, leaving me to wonder still how he got my mother’s number. Obviously he’d stolen the digits from my phone when I visited him. But to what end? I was very perplexed.

Thinking about Frank stealing my mother’s number on the very first meet made me realize that everything that happened from here on was premeditated

A few minutes after he hung up, my mother called me to ask who Frank was, that he called her telling her he had things to tell her about her son. I was instantly distraught, even though I didn’t let on that state of mind to my mother. I lied that I didn’t know anybody called frank. Immediately I was done with the phone call, I called Frank and told him I would come to see him provided he leave my family out of whatever was going on with him. He agreed and said he’d text my mother that it was a wrong number.

That weekend, I went to see Frank. My mission was to find and delete my mother’s contact from his phone. I went through his phone when I got a chance with it but I didn’t see anything. And so, that night which was the 6th of May 2011, I laid there on his bed, motionless, under the man who once made my heart leap with joy, wondering how it came to be that my first love was taking advantage of me. With each tear that leaked from my eyes accompanying every thrust of his, I felt dirty, broken and violated. I cursed the day I met Prince Frank Izuchukwu on Facebook. I cursed the day I decided to go meet him in person. And I triple cursed the day I fell for him. The same thing happened the following night and he seemed to enjoy every moment of the sex, not minding my lack of participation.

I got back to school and would cry myself to sleep every night, wishing I wasn’t this disgusting thing called a homosexual. Some close friends noticed that I was in a funk but I dismissed their concerns by telling them it was just the death of my father, which happened three years ago, that was the reason for my state. I was withdrawn but I managed to will myself into giving my exams the attention it required.

Towards the end of my WASSCE, Frank called to demand for another meet. I refused. He called several times, trying to sway me, but I remained defiant. At one point during the call, he lost consciousness. I don’t know what brought about his faint, but right then, as I listened to his breath choke out through the connection, I said a small prayer for him to die. But God was apparently too busy to listen.

Frank later called and accused me of being callous and inconsiderate, showing no care even though he’d fainted because of me and blah, blah, blah. I said I still wouldn’t come to see him. He reacted by this time by threatening me directly. He said he’d print out and paste my pictures on my school gate to let everybody know I was a homosexual and that he would call my mother. He was nasty, spitting out threat after threat on the phone, making me wonder how I ever fell in love with him. However, I buckled eventually and went to see him. He had a friend around this time. That night, I laid there on the bed like before while he violated me.

The following morning, his friend was playing a speech by TD Jakes, one which resonated inside me considering my predicament at the moment. The pastor was booming through the radio speaker: “You can’t force someone into loving you, staying with you! You’ve got to let it go!” Frank noticed that the sermon was getting to me and ordered his friend to turn it off. The end of that weekend had me back in school and life moved on.

NECO came around and Frank wanted another visit. I wasn’t defiant this time. I simply told him to chill, that I would come see him after my NECO exams and spend a whole week with him. He agreed. NECO came and passed, and I went on home. When he called, I told him my mother came to pick me up from the school the day I wrote my final paper. He wasn’t happy but he got over it. And then he called three weeks later to ask me to come to Nnewi from Enugu. I told him I couldn’t because I don’t have such freedom at home. He said simply, “OK.”

The following morning, Mother called me to help her prepare for work, something I was usually wont to do. As we sorted through clothes and work papers, she got a text on her phone. She read it and then handed the phone to me to read the text.

It read: Good morning, ma. I have pictures and videos of your son I’d like to share with you. Fix a meeting so I’ll deliver them to you.

TO BE CONTINUED

Written by Façade