Some days, the morning comes too early, like on the day Adwoa lost sight in her left eye, I heard her from my room screaming in hers. We rushed over to see her on the floor, the burly man in her chair, smoking a cigarette like nothing was wrong. Adwoa lay on the floor crying blood running down her face from multiple cuts. Her left eye swelling up into a big ball of loamy soil.
It reminded me of my teacher who had pushed my skirt up in the back of the class to ease me into womanhood, Mr. Frank. Mr. Frank had gotten away multiple times with fondling my barely their breasts through my brown school uniform. Mr. Frank had gotten away multiple times with fondling my barely their breast through my brown school uniform. When I told the nun, she whipped my knuckles with a ruler and called me a liar,
I dropped out of school the third time Mr. Frank raped me, because that is what he did.
I have a name for it now.
No, having a name for it has not changed anything. It just means I know what happens to me three days out of the week, Men raped me because they have paid Madame Rose.