NotSoWickedIgboWoman

You don't give into their advances Their desires not your priority  Why don't you act like Susan  She's so feminine  Uninterested  Strong-willed Fearless  Now synonyms for Masculine I bare my teeth  Because you won't take no  I'm always on guard  Because your fingers pry Masculine Means I'm safe Maybe when I go home  I'll be like Susan    Maybe                                                                   I dare say not likely  I've seen Susan cover her scars With a smile and makeup  I'd rather be Masculine   Than be Susan 

I watched his facial expression as I divulged the chilling truth: I was a murderer. There, amidst the flickering fluorescent lamp, I watched his face contort with a mixture of disbelief and horror. The plan had been simple: reveal the darkest fragment of my past to him, a calculated move intended to repulse and repel any budding friendship or love before it could even take root. His mouth hung agape, genuine shock etched across his features. For a fleeting moment, I believed my strategy had succeeded and I suppressed a hidden snicker. Just as I attempted to avert my gaze and retreat into the solace of my sick bed, his reaction shattered my expectations. A sudden eruption of laughter echoed through the very well-lit room, catching me off guard. "You got me," he managed between fits of amusement, his eyes alight with glee. "I'm genuinely scared now, Brenda. You might just murder me next." Confusion seized me as I tried to decipher his response. What was amusing ab...

He left the bowl of pancake mix and approached me, his strides deliberate and confident. I remained rooted in place, leaning against the door frame wearing his big black hoodie, basking in the warmth of his aura. His arms enveloped my waist as he got to me, drawing me into his embrace with a tenderness that spoke volumes. "Did you sleep well?" he inquired, his voice a soothing melody that washed over me. With a soft chuckle, I responded, "When did I ever not sleep well when I'm here?" His smile, a beacon of comfort and familiarity, lit up the room as he asked if I was ready for breakfast. Peering into his face, I couldn't help but notice the subtle shadows beneath his eyes and the faint stress lines etched into his skin, a testament to some stress and sleepless nights. My hand instinctively rose to caress his left cheek, tracing the contours of his features softly. "Did you sleep at all? You were already up when I woke," I inquired, my words filled...

"Wow, you looked very bruised up, battered, and given the fact that I haven't seen you here, you must be new or you don't usually get into fights like this," said an unknown voice. As I roused, my body ached. Each bruise and bandage told a silent story of my recent dance with Sonia's fist. In the movies, they would usually say, "you should see the other guy". Well, it is very apparent that I am the very other guy they referred to. Disoriented and still groggy, I slowly shifted my bandaged neck, attempting to locate the source of the calm voice that had addressed me. With some effort, I adjusted my position to face the figure in the white coat who seemed absorbed in his work. Sunlight flooded the room through opened windows, creating a warm and serene atmosphere. Blinking against the brightness, I squinted until my eyes adjusted to the scene. There he was—the rumored cute doctor who supposedly graced the infirmary twice a week. The tales, it seemed, were...

My chat with Michael made me see things in a completely new light. It struck me that he must have been part of something fishy, as there was no reason for me to get arrested at his place without an explanation from him. Initially, I believed he was the victim, and by extension, I was too. But learning that he actively contributed to my predicament was a real shocker. Now, I couldn't help but wonder why he was suddenly appearing in my life again. Was it another scheme to pull me into a mess I had no hand in, or was it a belated sense of guilt after 15 years? Either way, if it was guilt, it felt like it had arrived way too late – 15 years too late. I moved through the rest of the day absentmindedly, and as I did this, I was unaware that lurking around the corner was an impending catastrophe. A couple of hours after my encounter with Michael, we were all piling into dinning hall for lunch. I walked absentmindedly in the lines of fellow inmates adorned in our orange apparel. My tray h...

I ignored his greetings as I sat down on the chair and leaned back, trying to look as tough as possible. He stared at me, a little bit frightened, as he took his seat. We locked eyes, and I refused to back down from the staring contest. He cowered and said, "You look good, Brenda." I threw my head back and laughed like a maniac, attracting stares from fellow prisoners and their visiting families. "I look good? Michael? Me? Good? Well, I guess orange is my color and it makes the brown in my eyes pop," I said with sarcasm. Coming from someone who let me rot in jail, your compliments mean jack shit to me. I hope you have a good reason for being here today, Michael," I said, leaning very close to him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding eye contact. "Brenda, I... I heard there is a way we could shorten your sentence," he stammered, glancing around nervously. "We? We? Michael, who the hell is 'we'?" He winced, sitting as far aw...

We sprinted through the rain, the cool droplets cascading around us. Oddly, the wetness didn't register. It was as if the sheer exhilaration of the moment shielded us from the discomfort of the downpour until we found a building popularly known as the Hub. Its official name, "the Center for Something," eludes my memory, but it was a space where tech enthusiasts lived and worked. It had a section fitted with work tables, ergonomic chairs, and the latest laptops. It also had a relaxation area as well, with colorful cushions in various shades. I remember seeing orange and green bean bags, board games, and some well-watered plants. When we entered the hub, a group of young men paused mid-argument and looked at us like humans stumbling upon a group of aliens. One of the older-looking guys stood and walked toward a group of closets, pulling out two huge blankets. By the time he approached us with the blankets, the group seemed to have moved on, getting back into their interrupt...

I stood there, captivated by the part-smile, part-grin that adorned your face. "You're late, you know," I remarked. "I don't think so, I believe I got here right on time," you replied. I chuckled, "You think? Next time you keep me waiting even for a minute, I'm walking away," I said, pseudo-angrily walking ahead of you while harboring a secret smile on my face. After walking a few extra paces, you called out loudly, "It's not that way, Bren." Dear readers, "Bren is short for Brenda," I guess it's time for an introduction. I'm Brenda Parker, a tall, dark-skinned beauty with brown eyes or at least that's how people described me 15 years ago. Now, I'm just a 32-year-old woman with flaky ashy skin, and a face that screams grief. I am the last of five children born to a professor and a veterinary doctor. Michael always called me Bren, a name that brings back equal parts happiness and grief. I halted, rolled my...

Like you, dear readers, I'm still in disbelief about how I ended up here. At the time, it all felt like a dream, a joke, and even a massive misunderstanding. Lying in this dimly lit cell, I open my eyes, reflecting on the day I got arrested. As I was dragged out of Michael's apartment building wearing his big gray hoodie and my purple shorts, I held onto one thought: he would come, clear this mess, and I'd be set free. Going down the stairs, the halls were filled with neighbors pointing, speaking in low tones, and shuddering in disbelief. I frantically searched for his familiar face all the way down, knowing he was supposed to return soon with our breakfast. As I got downstairs with the hefty men, one of them entered the front passenger seat of the unmarked black car, another went to the other side of the back seat, while the last one was shoving my head through the other side. I was to sit in the midst of two men who treated me like vermin.  In the midst of all the chaos, ...

Alas, i'm getting ahead of story, that's not quite how it happened. It's no surprise though, considering that my memory isn't what it used to be, especially after 15 years and in these conditions? Its laughable. The mix-up however can be explained as our typical mornings spent together all seemed quite similar. They were all filled with endless banter, romance, and a hearty breakfast. Whenever I was within the pristine white walls of your apartment, you made sure I was well-fed. These were usually either store bought or your own delicious effort.  Getting back to what actually happened. I remember standing at your rust brown wooden door, beaming with smiles when I heard your key turn in the lock. As you walk in through the door, your eyes lit up with interest as you looked at me, your hands laden with even more food than I had initially asked for. You had a smile on your face that was undeniably attractive and quite flirtatious. I momentarily lost my composure and b...

After the kiss, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The tension that had built up between us seemed to hang in the air, charged with anticipation. As our lips parted, you looked into my eyes, and the desire was thick as a fog. You said, "I always wondered what that would feel like; I'm still not so sure I got it." Then you leaned in closer, and we shared another passionate kiss. After the second kiss, I had to take a moment to catch my breath as it all took me by surprise. You took me by surprise. We talked and laughed some more but the entire time, the only thing that was going through my mind was, "What's next? I kissed him, so what is he expecting next?" After we spent some time talking on the couch, you asked me if I wanted to get more comfortable, lie down, or something, you said. Well, I wasn't going to say no and look like I was overthinking things or being a child, so I agreed. We moved to the bedroom and laid down on the bed. I remember laying ...

I immediately turned around when I heard footsteps calmly  approaching from behind. I tried to make out the source of the footsteps, but the darkness and their distance masked their identity. Unfazed, I turned away, assuming it was just another participant of our gathering, taking a leisurely stroll just like I did or attempting to leave. As the footsteps drew nearer, steadily coming up right behind me, I turned around once more, only to see you. Tall and strikingly handsome. In that moment, all the annoyance faded into the background, with a brand new sense of anxiety replacing it. I felt a shyness creep in, and I was determined not to let it show. I stood my ground and kept my head high as I watched you get closer with a straight face. You came to a stop directly in front of me, but I immediately took a step back, not wanting you in my personal space. That closeness, it scared me. You broke the silence with a smile and a compliment, "You look very beautiful tonight." I tilt...

  We left our apartment around 9 pm, and despite the darkness and chilly weather, our bodies warmed with excitement and anticipation as we piled into the taxi. One of our neighbours had the address, so we blindly tagged along. When we arrived, it became obvious that this wasn't the typical "party." Instead, I found myself in a beautifully lit garden, with music gently wafting through the air. We were directed to an area with chairs gathered around a table, accompanied by an assortment of drinks and the tantalizing scent of grilling meat nearby. Initially, I had pictured a lively party filled with carefree swaying and getting lost in a sea of sweating bodies with music almost tearing down my ear drums but it appeared that I was now expected to engage in conversation with fellow "hangout" attendees. This wasn't going according to plan. Since we had come a bit early, we amused ourselves by talking and laughing among our group until more people began to arrive. ...