Served Cold

by Vivian Dindu Esimoleze

I write from the prison.

The dead body was found in my room. Yes. I know whose body that was seen. The chubby body was my friend’s, my friend that trusted me blindly while she was alive. The first day I met her, she had liked me so much. I came through for her like an angel with a pure heart when she was in need. But deep down, all I wanted was revenge – to get back at her mum for what she did to me.

I was only eleven when I started working as a bar attendant. I worked for her mum who treated me as a wasted space. The day she gave me away to one of her male customers was the darkest of days. My small breasts that were still on the verge of growing were used roughly that night. My small butt was on fire. I bled throughout the night. I was also used by her lesbian friends for satisfaction. My growing up was crazy, horrible.

When I left, I plotted my revenge. I followed her daughter, made friends with her, showed her love, and made her trust me. Then I did it. I killed her. Not with knife, gun, or anything. I just planned her rape.

Five men raped her to death.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You cannot copy content of this page