I was tall for a twelve year old. Maybe, that’s why he thought me palatable. He was twenty-five at the time. You’d never think of him as a pervert, Jack. He had just got back from The Gambia, rumour had it that he was deported. I didn’t believe it, he was too cool headed, focused. I mean, what could he possibly had done. Perhaps, the same he tried to do to me.
I was twelve, old enough to crush on people. So yes, I had a huge crush on Jack. He was very likeable, with his accent. Not British or American, just strange and cool. He grew fund of my brothers and I. My mum thought him trust worthy so she let him into our home. Jack became like a brother to us, sharing our meals and keeping late nights in our house.
He was a very talented fellow, the greatest artist we had seen at the time. He could sing too, and boy, was a he a good breakdancer. So we loved him, my brothers and I. We couldn’t wait to get back from school to be with him. Sometimes he’d come get us from school, even. He’d get us snacks, like an elder brother.
Every time I had issues in school, Jack was the first to know. And surely, he’d help out. He protected us, my brothers and I. So we came to trust him, very much. Being the reason I was disappointed in my mom when she told me never be alone with him. How could she think Jack able to molest a child? I thought she was being paranoid.
The afternoon was hot that day when he came to our house. My brothers and I had just arrived from school. It was just us three and Jack in the yard, everybody else stayed out till evening. We talked for a while, then he suggested we go get some sweets. Normally, we’d all go, but I didn’t want to go out. So, Jack suggested my brothers go without him.
As soon as they left, he asked for some food. As I walked to the kitchen to get him some rice, a chill ran over my whole body. I was in danger. I waved off the thought and reassured myself that Jack wouldn’t do such a thing. Still my heart raced beckoning on me to race with it.
I was half way through dishing the food when I felt someone behind me. I didn’t even notice him come into the kitchen. Before I could ask what he wanted, his lips were caressing the folds of my neck. Trembling I wriggled free and moved away. He tried to hold me but there was already adrenaline in my blood. I flung the plate on the table and made my way out of the kitchen door, which lead out of the house.
He held onto my left hand and tried to pull me back into the house.
“Stop, I’m not going to do anything.” He kept saying.
I pulled my hand recklessly and screamed, until he let me go. I ran all the way out of the yard as soon as I rescued my poor hand.
My brothers were rather surprised to find me sitting outside alone. We walked back into the house together, to find the young man sitting in the parlour eating my mothers rice. Thief.
From that day, I hated even the very ground he stepped on. I began to withdraw from him, and in due time, my brothers weren’t so fund of him anymore. He had become another person, or his real self. I don’t know.
I was about seventeen or eighteen the first time I mentioned the incident to anyone. Until I was able to talk about it, I still hated Jack. After I talked to a friend or two, I totally let it go. I forgave him.
He wasn’t living in the yard anymore, so I couldn’t tell him. But I said it to the wind, and I gained peace.