Sometimes I wonder. What you are up to? Are you a church elder now? An opinion leader? Are you in a mental asylum? Are you a respected member of society?
Tell you what, sicko, when I was a young adult, your indecent assault on my mind, body and soul made me silently question my sexuality. Rape was my debut sexual experience and, at times, it messed me up a little. I thought the rape was an 'induction' of sorts and it was, as unscriptural as it sounds, a 'sign' from God.
A good number of men who are rape victims – especially if it was their sex debut – silently wrestle with demons of sexual orientation. And it's so easy to swing the gay way.
Seconds after you raped me, if I had been asked, I would not pick your face from a police lineup. You accosted me on a semi-lit road, then raped me in a dark alley, and I was this shy eleven-year-old kid who could not identify you from Cain.
Tell me; did you sleep that night after you raped me? And did I sleep that night? Do you really want to know? I am still turning and tossing, and screaming in my sleep, and letting out ear-shattering primal screams, because it was the longest sleepless night. Ever.
Hell, I would love to see your face now. I would love to put, not only a face, but also a name to the jerk who violently robbed me of my innocence. All these years, I have lived with the weight – both literal and physical – but not your face.
Ever since you raped me, I have so many questions, and they keep piling up by the year. Why me? Did you personally know me? After raping me, did you still see me around the 'hood?
Do you have kids? Do you fear for them? Do they even know what type of a father you are? And how would you feel if your little son told you that they were raped? I do not wish what you did to me on your child, or on anyone's baby. But still. How would feel? The way you feel does not, and will not even come close to how I feel.
You know what else you did to me? Made me paranoid. That's what you did. I am overprotective of my 10-year-old daughter. I cover her with protective prayers daily. I ask God that no rape weapon fashioned against her shall prosper.
Because I lived with the hurtful secret for so long, the evil you meted on me turned me into a man who clams up. I did not know if my family would believe me. It was my word against a nameless faceless stranger. So, on that night, when I ran home, and entered the shower and washed the scum off me, I thought I would wash off every single thought of that evil.
But I was wrong.
I am a grownup now, but I have not healed. I do not think that I will ever heal. People heal from repeated bouts of flu; not from rape.
But, here is one thing that you did not turn me into; a rapist. It's not true that hurt people hurt people. That's a lie from the devil.
The senseless violence that you meted on me made me a more sensitive being. And, in my walk of faith, I have had the revelation that, if God allowed this rape to happen, He will orchestrate it so that, ultimately, all things will work together for good for a divine purpose.