Laila: Hmmm! Roxanne!! You too, say yes no.

Me: What's the same with you? Go to your party if you want.

Laila: No! You must come with me.

Me: I don't want to.

Laila: Ahhhh really! You never want. Can't you live a little?

Me: What do you want me to do there? Those are not my friends.

Laila: Because you refuse to be friends with anyone.

Me: I'm good friends with you.

Laila: And I wonder why you chose me.

Me me too. Seeing how you're pissing me off over a stupid party, I'm questioning myself.

Laila: That's it! For once I ask you something. Please !

Me: Oh! You annoy me. It's okay, I'll go with you to your stupid party.

Laila is one of the few people who support me down here. We became friends in 12th grade. She was the only one who knew what had happened to me.

We were just classmates who hardly ever spoke to each other. She was one of the stars of the school. The girls that all guys want to put in their bed. And for his attitude, I didn't like him very much. But one day, coming out of rehearsal class around 6:30 p.m., I saw a college girl being raped near the toilet by several boys. When I saw them, I froze like paralyzed.

Instead of rescuing the girl, I looked at them without really seeing them. Another image was in my head. Me being raped. I thought I was seeing one of my multiple rapes again. The only difference was that this girl at least had the courage to fight, despite the fact that she had in front of her four boys.

It was Laila, who was doing the same rehearsal classes as me, who came to get me out of my trance. With her, we managed to free the young girl from the grip of these dirty guys. It was this event that brought us closer. Curious as she is, for two months she tried to find out why I had entered a trance. It was in a moment of weakness and tired of having no one to confide in that I told him my story.

She had comforted me, but what I had especially appreciated coming from her and that I still continue to appreciate, is that she does not take pity on me. She doesn't treat me like a victim. I don't need someone to remind me more every day that I'm dirty.

The party Laila was talking about was a party organized by several classmates for the end of class. After two years of chaining inconclusive internships, Laila and I decided to finish with the Master. Laila is in Master II of Human Resources and I in Master II of Operations Management. The organizers of the party are the school jetsetters. Little idiots who take themselves for the navel of the pope. People I avoid as much as possible.

But Laila, a friendly miss, is friends with everyone. And she wants me to be like her. It's times like this that I wonder how we ever became friends.

A few hours later.

Mom: What's even your problem with God? You used to go to church before, didn't you?

Me: Yes because you left me no choice. I have the right not to want to go there anymore.

Mom: Hmm! But in this specific case it's just a baptismal mass.

Me: It doesn't matter. I am not going.

Mom: Honestly, I don't even know what to do with you anymore.

I haven't been there for four years and I will never set foot there again. Besides, I don't see what's the point of praying to a God who lets people suffer, suffer atrocities without even punishing the executioners. And we say God of justice? He is a God who has preferences. He chooses to help some and neglect others. While the former venerate him. I have understood that I am in no way one of his children.

Mom: Are you going out?

I do. I'm going to a party with Laila.

Mom: Really! You must leave. And come back from there with the boy numbers.

Me: You are not ashamed to prostitute your daughter.

Mom: Ahhh Where is the prostitution? An old maid like you, can't you come and introduce me to a fiancé? You're always doing I don't know what in your room. For once you do things like a real young girl.

Me: Who says all young girls have to spend their life partying. There are other things more important than that.

Mom: Like singing? Tsuip! the child here sorry leave me alone.

Oh yes ! I forgot. Outside of church, that's the other thing my mom pisses me off about. She would like to see me on the arm of a beautiful and dark boy. I would love to too, but it's impossible. It's not for lack of trying. Eh yes ! Don't think I don't let myself get into relationships sometimes. Even though it's been three years since I even accepted a guy's invitation. My last experience traumatized me.

The friendship with Laila allowed me to open up a little more than I was before knowing her. She started pushing me to go out and meet people. But for a long time, I was only happy to accept the invitations of the boys and when he already wanted to get to the kisses on the mouth stage, I ran away.

Because of that I was being treated as a tease. But strangely it made the boys want to come and flirt with me even more. Everyone wanted to be the first to put “the tease” in their bed. There is only one who managed to make me go a little further if I may say so.

Jeffrey. The first and only love of my life. I was twenty-one. He grabbed my heart when I thought there was no way a man could do it. Jeffrey was a friend of Laila's older brother. We met very often at Laila's. And logically, we chatted from time to time and even went out in groups. It must be said that Laila and her big brother are like two friends. Thus, as we saw each other, the attraction grew in both of us.

But it had taken some time before things really started between us. A year and a half to be exact. With my cold temper and changing moods, I don't think he knew how to approach me. One day I was nice, the next I was an unpleasant old shrew without even really wanting it. It seems that by raping me in my childhood a demon has entered me. When he wakes up, I become the most hateful being on earth.

After clutching my heart for a year and a half and trying to deny my feelings for Jeffrey, I finally gave in one night. It was our third date. He walked me home and all I wondered in my head was why he didn't have the courage that I lacked. Why didn't he take the first step? I just wanted to feel his lips on mine. At the same time, it seemed that tonight finally, he had managed to read my thoughts.

I was already entering the dealership gate when he grabbed me and kissed me. There I knew what a kiss was. My very first kiss. At least for that I thank heaven. He allowed me to experience my very first real consensual kiss, with a man I loved. But everything stopped when six months later he wanted to go further. I thought I was ready that day to take the plunge. I had prepared myself in my head. I had gone to read books for advice. Even if I wasn't really a virgin, for me it would have been the first time I had consensual sex. I wanted it to be perfect. And then I told myself that I was going to consider this time as “my first time”.

He rented a small student room behind the stadium. Lying on the bed, Jeffrey kissed me passionately. I liked that. He manages to take off my t-shirt, then my skirt. And at one point, he tried to introduce his finger under my panties. Blackout! For a moment I felt like I was losing my sight and then I started to see Bradley touching me. So I punched Jeffrey, of course thinking it was Bradley. I took my clothes and ran out of his house. I found a corner at the bottom of his building to get dressed.

Luckily for me, I hadn't met anyone in the hallways. When I got out of there, I was lucky enough to suddenly find a taxi. It wasn't until the cab that I pulled myself together and realized it wasn't Bradley's I'd escaped from, but my boyfriend's. After that day, I never saw Jeffrey again. He had tried to see me again and have an explanation but I avoided him like the plague. Not because I was afraid of him on the contrary. He was the one man I wasn't afraid of. But because I was ashamed. Ashamed of the attitude I had towards him. And I knew that if I was to see him again, I would have to tell him why I had done this.

Which implied that I would tell him what had been done to me. And that, despite all the love I had for him, I was not ready to do. Laila had begged me to tell her. She had tried to assure me that he would understand me but no it was too hard.

From there, I told myself that love was not for me. So my mother can always wait. She will not have the pleasure of organizing her daughter's wedding. What man will agree to stay with a woman he can't make love to? Sorry for her.

Laila: Are you sure you didn't want to go to the party there?

Me: You want me to change my mind.

Laila: Hmmm! leave me with your blackmail. Afterwards you will even have more fun than me at this party.

Me: it's possible if the music is good.

Laila: And if there are cannons.

Me: Uh! The other one doesn't concern me.

Laila: Maybe you could try again? It's been three years, darling.

Me why ? So that I still run away like a lunatic when they want to lift my skirt? No thanks !

Laila: Time has passed. I'm sure you can cope. Especially if you do what I've been advising you for.

Me: Those are white people's things.

Laila: Except that you have white diseases as you say. Get help. Go see the psychologist!

For more than a year, Laila has been asking me to meet a psychologist she met by chance at one of her uncles. Seeing her, she immediately thought of me. The shrink gave her her card because she had told her that she has a friend who might need her services. Frankly, I don't see the point of it. I haven't managed to talk to my mother about what happened to me in fifteen years, am I going to do it to a stranger?

What was it going to bring me to go and tell how I feel dirty, how I had let my life be stolen? So that when she finds herself with her friends behind, she tells how she has a stupid patient who did not know how to close her feet or who did not know how to defend herself? Nope ! Since I live as I live there, am I dead? These are the stories of white people.

The evening takes place in a small ceremonial hall in Cotonou. The room actually belongs to the parents of one of our fellow organizers of the evening.

A few minutes later, sitting on my chair with her eyes closed enjoying the music, Laila comes to find me accompanied by a man. When I see them together, I directly attach the mouth. She's still trying to hook me up with someone. I think it's the savagery she's looking for today.

Laila: We're at a party and you're sleeping?

Me: Am I sleeping? I'm listening to music.

Man: It's true that the DJ is good. Since then it awakens memories in me.

Me: Best of you!

I close my eyes. I mean to be unpleasant. My only goal is that he removes any idea of ​​wanting to flirt with me. My eyes closed so as not to have to face Laila's disapproving gaze. But still, I feel how she glares at me. Annoyed by my attitude, she kicks me lightly.

Laila: This is Wesley.

Me: Hmm!

Laila: Wesley, her name is Roxanne.

I always pretend not to manage them. His starving animal gaze will soon change. Or else he will divert it to another prey.

Wesley: Pleased Roxanne. How about dancing?

Me : ...

I look him up and down like he's a tramp talking to me. So the guy doesn't understand or he's doing it on purpose. Get out, say!

Me : no !

He walks closer to me and bends down to whisper in my ear.

Wesley: If your strategy is to scare me away, you better play the nice little girl. I like sassy and sexy sluts like you.

He straightens up while staring at me with a smirk. I don't know if he's mocking or not, but his smile makes me uncomfortable. But at the same time, I like his repartee. I like people who don't give up.

Me: Did you just call me a bitch?

Wesley: No. I said sassy and sexy bitch. It's different. I insist, I want to dance with you.

Me: I warn you, I hate men who dance badly.

To be continued.....