HUNTER: by Nathaniel Bivan

This story, written with a broken heart, is dedicated to the memory of Vera Uwaila Omozuwa, a 22-year-old microbiology student reported to have been gang-raped and murdered on May 27 in a Church in Benin, Nigeria. May her gentle soul rest in peace.

1

I have helped many patients recover, but Bimpe’s case was different. From the moment she walked in, I feared my expertise as a rape victim therapist may not be enough. She wore a long red skirt with a slit that revealed her left thigh. There, her smooth-looking, chocolate-coloured skin shone, a clear sign she spent a lot on skincare. Her artificial eyelashes hung low and her full lips moved seductively as she spoke.

Wait, don’t judge me too fast. I’m a woman who has spent half her life on this job for the joy of seeing men caught with their pants down and their butts thrown in prison. I had to admit though, Bimpe’s rapist had taste. But this silly notion was all before I heard her story.

Bimpe had not always been like this. Once, before the horror that changed her life, she was a naïve girl who knew less about make-up or how to trap men in her skirt.

You see, when Bimpe was only thirteen, her breasts had filled out like a grown woman. Her hips were more than just the perfect size with a small waist that made them every man’s dream, and then her skin, chocolate-coloured and spotless. Her mum realized early, she needed to teach her daughter the art of being a woman in a man’s world.

So, Bimpe knew what to say and just how to wriggle out of an admirer’s net very early. Once, in her school uniform and on a mission to pay her fees in the bank, the manager asked for her to be brought to his office. What was a matter of minutes, seemed like hours of persuasion in which the burly man loosened his tie and said some of the sweetest words Bimpe had ever heard from an admirer.

It wasn’t like the manager was an old man. He was clean-shaven and looked fit, somewhere between forty and forty-five. But in her eyes, he was an old man and she was just a little girl. At age fifteen, all she thought about was rounding off secondary school and studying medicine in uni. 

But here she was, seated before a man who now promised her the world.

‘I’d open an account for you and you can withdraw ten thousand naira every month,’ he said.

Ten thousand naira was huge money back then. Bimpe resisted the urge to tell him her parents gave her everything she needed. And what would she have to do to earn all that? But she already knew the answer. It was right there on her chest: her extraordinarily large breasts, her oval face with perfect features, and hips even her long skirt failed to hide.

When she moved toward the door with an apology on her lips, the man flashed forward and grabbed her arms. ‘Promise you will think about it.’

‘I will,’ she lied.

Just before she finished secondary school, her principal, Mr Ogbonna, called her into his office and asked if she was studying hard for her final exams and if she needed any help.

Bimpe’s mouth fell open. Everyone knew the principal hardly paid attention to students in this manner. He was the most feared person in the school.

‘Ehm…no sir. Thank you, sir.’ Bimpe scratched her head.   

‘But you know if you need help you can come to me, right?’

‘Yessir.’

She stood up. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘You don’t need to worry about passing exams…’ Mr Ogbonna pushed back his chair and drew close. Now his hand was on her shoulder.

Bimpe’s eyes widened. Not in her wildest dreams had she pictured this scenario. An alarm went off in her head.

The principal’s hand slide to her breast and tried to cup it when Bimpe jumped back and her chair fell backwards, its clatter making her leap. With shaky hands, she opened the door and dashed out of the office.

No one else would believe her, so she only told her best friend, Hajara. ‘I wish your mum was here,’ Hajara had said. 

A year ago, Bimpe’s mum had died from cancer and her father was already planning to bring in a new wife. There was no one in the world Bimpe could confide in who understood her like Hajara.

‘What are you going to do about it?’ she asked.

Bimpe sighed. ‘Nothing, I guess. Who would I report to, the Vice Principal?’

‘What about Miss Nana, the English teacher? She always says we can come to her for advice.’

‘And what can she do, Hajara? She’s only a teacher.’

That was how the matter died. Mr Ogbonna stood before the school assembly days after and spoke his eyes straight ahead and never looking in Bimpe’s direction. It was as if nothing ever happened.

As the only girl, Bimpe was in charge of the house even though she was the fourth out of five children. Her father, a businessman, was always going on business trips and their home was always filled with relatives seeking for school admission or employment in Abuja. Once, Uncle Richard who was trying to get a federal government job in the city asked Bimpe to bring him a bottle of coke from the main house’s refrigerator. When she entered the boys’ quarters, he reached out and touched her breast. Bimpe froze, and then shook her finger in his face, ‘don’t you try that again,’ until fear leapt into his eyes.

She never told anyone. Not even Hajara, her best friend.

Their house was in the outskirts of the city, and most times, Bimpe went to the market on a commercial motorcycle. She used to ask Uncle Richard to take her in what used to be her mother’s car but stopped since his misbehaviour. Not far from her home was Albert’s house, the boy who had asked her to be his girlfriend since junior secondary school. Recently, he had stopped talking to her altogether, even when she greeted him.

The turning point in Bimpe’s life came not long after she got admission into the university. She had just finished shopping in the market and was trying to get a motorcycle when rain began to pour. Just then, a car drew up beside her and Bimpe sighed when she saw Albert behind the wheel. Her mum had once warned her never to accept a ride from a stranger, no matter the situation. Albert was no stranger.

‘Hurry! Enter!’ he yelled over the noise of rain. ‘Don’t worry. Drop everything here.’ He grabbed one of the bags filled with groceries and dumped it in the back seat.

They zoomed off and Bimpe wrapped her arms around herself, aware of how her gown clung to her body, especially her chest. She felt almost naked here, alone with Albert. The AC hummed and the wiper swished back and forth noisily as Albert bent forward to see clearly.

‘Thanks,’ she said.

‘You’re welcome.’ He didn’t even glance at Bimpe. ‘I hear you’ve gotten admission.’

‘Wow, yes. How did you know? News travels fast here O.’

‘You’re now a big gel.’ Albert glanced at her. ‘Soon you will have all the guys there all over you.’

Bimpe shifted in her seat and looked straight ahead.

‘I wish you will be my gel.’

She dropped her hands on her laps and sighed.

‘Won’t you say something? Don’t you think this is a sign from God? I mean…bringing us together like this before you leave?’

‘I’m not ready for a relationship, Albert. I–’

‘You’re too young?’ He scoffed. ‘You won’t say that when you’re there…where you can do whatever you want.’

Albert continued talking and then he said it, those two words Bimpe had heard all her life. ‘Will you remain mummy’s gel all your life?’ 

‘Don’t call me that!’ She could feel the tears in her eyes.

‘I’m sorry, I–’

‘If it’s because you gave me a lift, just drop me here.’ Bimpe pointed. She was already a walking distance away from home.

‘No, no, please…I didn’t mean to.’

They were now close to his house. ‘When are you leaving?’ he asked.

‘Soon.’

‘My parents are not home and I’ll really appreciate it if you pay me a visit,’ he said.

‘I can’t.’

‘Okay.’

There was something in his voice, a mixture of sadness and defeat that made Bimpe reconsider. ‘The rain has almost stopped,’ she touched her silky gown, ‘and my clothes are dry. I will come in now, briefly.’

‘Are you serious?’ The look in his eyes was priceless.

Bimpe laughed. ‘Yes, but only on one condition. You’ll teach me how to drive.’

‘Deal.’ He smiled and suddenly Bimpe realized how handsome he was. She shivered. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea after all. It was still drizzling.

The gate man opened up and they drove into Albert’s compound. Albert came round and opened her door with a little bow. Bimpe laughed.

Inside, he went straight to the CD player and Frank Edwards’s song filled the living room.

‘I didn’t know you listened to Frank Edwards,’ Bimpe said.

He smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. ‘I’m coming.’ Soon he was back with two steaming mugs. ‘Coffee or tea?’

‘Tea, please.’ Bimpe watched as he made hers. ‘Thanks.’ She accepted the mug and sipped. ‘I really needed this.’

‘Play scrabble?’ He dropped a board on the centre table.

‘You joking?’ she made a face at him, ‘I love it.’

‘Great!’

‘But…’ she took a final sip, ‘I have to go now. Next time, maybe?’

‘Ha! So there’ll be a next time?’ He punched the air. ‘Yes!’ and Bimpe laughed uncontrollably as she walked toward the door.

2

Music poured out from the main house when Bimpe reached home. Her younger brothers who liked music that much were in boarding school and she knew their last born was certainly not the one. Uncle Richard was sprawled on her dad’s favorite couch when she walked in. He pretended not to notice her and she went straight to her room.

Bimpe had just removed her gown and was humming Frank Edwards’s Super Star when her door flew open. She screamed, grabbed her gown from the bed and covered herself up. ‘How dare–’

‘Ashawo! You think I did not see you enter that boy’s house.’ Uncle Richard stood by the door, his eyes all over her body as he spoke. Suddenly he was across the room and shoved her toward the bed until she fell. ‘Today, I will show you who is oga here.’

Uncle Richard pulled down his shorts in one swift motion, stepped over it and longed for Bimpe. She rolled on the bed and fell on the other side, but he was too fast, as if he had rehearsed this for a long time. He jumped on the bed, bounced and landed next to her with both feet. Then he held her by the shoulders and pushed her, face down.

Bimpe felt blood rush up her head when it came in contact with the floor. Uncle Richard yanked her head back and tore at her panties. She screamed as pain like she had never known shot up her anus, and then nothing else mattered.    

3

‘Nothing else mattered since,’ Bimpe said as tears coursed down her cheeks.

My voice trembled as I asked her to continue.

‘He defiled me, both front and back.’ She bit her lower lip. ‘I didn’t plan it, but every man who came after me for my body died afterwards.’

‘Wait, wait…I don’t get it.’ I waved a hand and shook my head from side to side. ‘You–’

‘Yes…I killed them. Every…single…one of them.’

I sighed and sat back. What had I gotten myself into?

4

Bimpe avoided Albert until she left for uni. Then it happened: she fell for Tayo, one of the most popular boys in school, in her second year.

Tayo hovered over almost everyone in uni and girls buzzed around him like bees. He was not in Bimpe’s faculty but coming all the way from the Arts, he was always around, stuck between girls with a couple of his basketball cronies tagging along.

It was in exactly one of such scenarios that their eyes locked. Just before Bimpe turned a corner, she saw him squeeze out of his circle and knew he was coming after her. She had heard about him, learned he was the school’s most valuable basketball player and watched him from a distance, but they had never actually met. So far, she had avoided having any close relationship with men.

‘Hey, baby, seems like you’re running, abi?’

Those words made Bimpe turn and look him in the eye. ‘Running? Says who?’

He grinned, showing spotless white teeth. Something about him reminded her of Albert. She wondered where he was now. The last time they had met in their neighborhood, he had demanded to know what was wrong and she had brushed him off. That night, like many nights before, she soaked her pillow with tears. Since Uncle Richard raped her, she had refused to sleep in the same room and switched rooms with her youngest brother. It had not been difficult to convince him because, as the only girl, she had the best room after the master’s bedroom her dad shared with her step mum.   

‘Please, come watch our training this evening.’

‘What training?’

‘Seriously?’ He looked pleadingly at the sky with both hands raised. ‘You don’t know I’m a B-baller?’

Bimpe shrugged.

He shuffled backwards, ‘this evening, basketball court by five…please come,’ turned and hurried back to his friends.

Bimpe showed up. But she sat behind everybody else and disguised herself with a scarf. The next day, she was coming out of her lecture hall when she met Tayo waiting for her.

‘How did you know I would be here,’ she asked without breaking stride.

‘I have my ways.’ He was grinning as he fell in step with her. ‘You didn’t come to the court.’

‘I did.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘There was no way I could have missed you.’

‘Ha!’

They were now in front of her hostel. ‘Will you go out with me?’

‘Don’t you have a girlfriend already? Thought you’re Mr. Popular,’ Bimpe said as she walked away.

That evening she didn’t wear the headscarf and he walked her back to the hostel after training. It was dark when they parted ways.

Their relationship was in its third week when Bimpe visited Tayo at his place off campus where he shared a three-bedroom flat with other students.

‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ he said as he unlocked the door to his room.

Bimpe kicked off her heels and stepped onto the carpet. On a reading table sat multiple award plaques and a picture of Tayo standing tall in full basketball kit, a ball in the crook of his arm. The broad smile he wore was indication enough that they had just won a tournament at the time. CDs filled a shelf that would have been ideal for books.

‘You have a nice place.’ Bimpe turned around to face him and pointed. ‘Where are your books?’

Tayo shrugged. ‘Here isn’t a library, is it?’ He waved a hand toward the large mattress covered with a bed-sheet patterned with footballs, basketballs and other sports equipment. ‘Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.’

Bimpe sat awkwardly on the chair facing the reading table.

‘C’mon, that’s not comfortable enough.’

‘I’m okay.’ She smoothened invisible creases on her skirt and crossed her legs. Suddenly, Bimpe wished she had worn a pair of jeans.

Tayo squatted and brought out a bottle of Fanta from the refrigerator. He held it up and looked inquiringly at her. She nodded. He straightened up, cracked open the cap with his teeth and placed it before her.

Bimpe studied him. In his turf, he moved about with assurance, cockiness replaced by an overwhelming air of confidence. 

He squatted again, this time before the Home Theater on the carpet. The TV flashed on and a man and woman were shown sitting on a couch. Suddenly the man grabbed her and shoved her down. Bimpe shut her eyes and opened them. The man had raised the woman’s skirt and was–

‘Please put that thing off!’ She opened her eyes. It wasn’t the man she was seeing now but Uncle Richard. ‘Pleeaase…’

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Tayo pointed the remote control and the TV went blank.

Bimpe was breathing hard now. Then she sprang up. ‘I’m leaving.’

‘Whattt?’ Tayo’s eyes blazed. ‘We just got here. Haven’t you watched blue film before?’

Bimpe looked around like she may have lost something. Noting her purse was already clutched in her hand, she moved toward the door. But Tayo was already there, his broad shoulders completely blocking any chance of escape. Bimpe gazed up at him. ‘Tayo, please move.’

‘You think you’ll just come here, to my kaban, and leave like that?’ He scoffed. ‘You wan make me laughing stock, abi?’

‘What do you mean?’ Bimpe looked down, and then up at him again. Everything was beginning to fall into place.

‘You think I’m a fool, abi? Taking you to the movies, buying you ice cream and suya…’

‘Are you joking? So, this, me and you, was all–‘

Tayo shoved her. Her heels didn’t help. Bimpe tripped and fell on the carpet as a searing pain shot up her ankle. Tayo pounced on her and lifted her skirt. Suddenly the nightmare of her experience with Uncle Richard washed over Bimpe and she began to cry uncontrollably.

For a moment, Tayo hesitated. Then he sank his finger between her legs, as if he was about to help her deliver a baby, and smirked. ‘Not sure you’re a virgin sef.’

Something happened to Bimpe there, something she would later find hard to explain, but a strange calm washed over her as she lay still and shut her eyes. She gritted her teeth from the pain in her ankle and pretended every other discomfort was coming from there. Later, when Tayo sighed and rolled off her, she pushed herself to her feet, straightened her skirt, and without a backward glance, ambled out of his room. 

5

Her elder brother, Kunle, was home when she arrived. He was seated beside her father, across from Uncle Richard and a busty girl in an Ankara skirt and blouse.

‘Ahhh…dear, sis.’ He ran up to her and hugged her. ‘What? Surprised to see me?’ He lifted her chin. ‘I just started my official leave so I’ll be around for a while.’

Bimpe stared at the couple who were now all smiles.

‘My dear, your uncle has brought home a wife, finally.’ Her father beamed.

‘Good afternoon, Daddy.’ Bimpe glanced at her brother with a forced smile. ‘I’ll be in my room.’ She could feel everyone’s eyes on her back as she walked away, eyes downcast. She heard her father say something about school stress just before she shut the door to her room.

Bimpe leaned against her door and sobbed till she slept, right there on the floor. It was Kunle’s knock that woke her up. ‘Give me a minute,’ she shouted back as she checked her face in the dressing table mirror before opening it.

‘What’s wrong? You look–’

‘I’m fine…just school stress.’

Kunle sat beside her on the bed. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but you know you can tell me anything.’

She forced a smile. ‘It’s nothing, really, I’m fine.’ Bimpe played with his shirt collar. ‘Hmm…You’re a big boy now O. How’s work like in Lagos?’

‘So-so.’ He shrugged. Kunle knew something was troubling her, yet, like the considerate big brother he was, he held back. They had always been close, but his oil company job in Lagos had put a strain on their relationship. Without mum, him and Hajara who was now far away in Adamawa, there had been no one she could talk to. But here he was now. There was so much backlog of information. What good would it do if she told him now that Uncle Richard was a goat and a pervert, and that she was raped, again, just yesterday, by a man she thought could help her forget all her pain?

Bimpe sighed.

Mistaking that as cue, Kunle rose. ‘Let me allow you rest.’ He patted her hair. ‘Catch up on gist later. I and Uncle Richard are going somewhere after we drop off his wife-to-be.’  

She nodded.  

An hour later, while her father was in his room and Bimpe was in the kitchen, she heard the front door open and hurried out. Uncle Richard strolled across the living room with a smile on his face. ‘You’ve grown into a very beautiful woman, Bim.’ He sat down. ‘Please get me a glass of cold water.’

‘Where’s my brother?’

‘He branched somewhere. Ah, don’t you know he has a girlfriend in town now?’

Bimpe bit her lip. They used to be so close, now everyone was grown and by themselves. As she made her way back to the kitchen, she felt Uncle Richard’s eyes on her. He yelled for water again and Bimpe stiffened. Her hands shook as she fetched a bottle and glass from the refrigerator. Suddenly the kitchen door swung open. She jumped and the glass crashed to the floor. Uncle Richard inched close until he stood right behind her, his body grazing hers. Bimpe whirled round and pushed him with all her might. He struggled to maintain balance but the pieces of glass made him skid on the tiles and fall backwards, and with a cracking sound, hit his head on the floor.

He laid there, blood seeping from the back of his head. Bimpe’s hands, now bunched into fists, rested against her chest. Her heartbeat slowed until it was normal again. The kitchen door flung open and her father and Kunle stood there, wide-eyed. 

6

‘It’s called manslaughter,’ I said.

‘No. I killed him. I…I wanted to…in my heart.’

‘We all wish dead those who hurt us, especially like that.’

Bimpe shook her head and it dawned on me how much burden this woman had carried and for how long.

‘There were others.’ She sighed and continued.

7

No one ever suspected Bimpe pushed her uncle. She returned to school after the burial and sometimes found herself smiling for no good reason. But that was before she saw Tayo again, before she learned her entire faculty knew “the irresistible Tayo had conquered her.”

But this did not make Bimpe hatch a plan, just yet, until she became roommates with Gloria. The poor girl returned one night to narrate how her boyfriend forced her to have sex with him at Sodom and Gomorrah. This was the name coined after a popular place where lovers hung out. It was also known for having the largest deposit of used condoms.

While Gloria and her boyfriend were at it, she insisting she wasn’t ready and he already halfway inside her, two of the institution’s security men caught them. At this point, Gloria sobbed nonstop and Bimpe and the other roommate held her for over twenty minutes.

‘Jude...he ran off and left me in their hands.’ Gloria burst into tears again.

Openmouthed, Bimpe exchanged a glance with her other roommate and then stared down at Gloria who remained bent, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

It couldn’t be what she was already thinking. Bimpe nudged her. ‘You must tell us, please. What happened?’

For the first time since she started her story, Gloria raised her head and looked at each of them straight in the eyes. ‘They took turns raping me, and I heard one say, “if the boy can do, why not us? Na free food.”’ 

Bimpe cursed under her breath and sprang to her feet. ‘Will you be able to recognize the security men?’

Gloria shook her head. ‘No.’

‘We should report to the school authority. The police must get involved,’ the other roommate said.

This your boyfriend, what department is he in?’ Bimpe asked.

‘We must report–’

‘Kasham, they won’t help her.’ Bimpe faced her roommate held up her fingers and ticked them off one after the other. ‘One, she was there of her own freewill, with her boyfriend. No one will believe he forced himself on her. Two, the security men were on duty and had a right to be where they were at that time while Gloria and her rapist boyfriend were there against school rules at that late hour. To make matters worse, Gloria has no witness and her useless boyfriend was a participant.  

‘What if I have HIV now? What if I get pregnant?’ Gloria sobbed.

They took her to the school clinic that night, where Gloria recounted what happened and said she didn’t know those who raped her.

The next day, armed with information about Gloria’s boyfriend, Bimpe paid Jude a visit in the boys’ hostel. She found him in his room with friends, rapping along to 2Pac’s Dear Mama blasting from a CD player. When she introduced herself as Gloria’s roommate, a frown crossed his face. Eager for his friends to be out of earshot, he quickly agreed when she asked to speak with him in private.

‘How’s she?’ he asked once they were outside the hostel gate, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

‘You tell me. We haven’t seen her since yesterday, and,’ she held his gaze, ‘we know she was with you last night.’

‘Me?’ He jabbed a finger at his chest. ‘We separated early…I think…she went to the library afterwards or some’n.’

‘Really?’ Bimpe stood akimbo. ‘You were both spotted at Sodom and Gomorrah at about midnight.’ 

Jude shuffled his feet, looked across his shoulders and then back at Bimpe. ‘Don’t understand. She lost or some’n?

‘Look here.’ She pointed a finger in his face. ‘Forget this your fake swag and listen good. You have from now till evening to find her and make peace, or I swear, you will have me to deal with in this school.’ Bimpe left him there without a backward glance.

8

He found Gloria, and it was easy because he only needed to dial her number on his mobile phone. But when she told him how she was raped when he fled, his face turned into a mask and he refused to say another word. Then Jude made an excuse about preparing for an upcoming test and disappeared. There was no apology, no comforting embrace.

Bimpe seethed after hearing Gloria recount what transpired. ‘Men are beasts and should be treated as such,’ she said.

A week later, Jude’s corpse was found close to a brothel off-campus. The story that made the rounds was that he had had a disagreement with someone in the area which led to a fight in which he was murdered. But Bimpe knew the true story. He was poisoned by a prostitute she hired in a whore house he frequented. 

9

‘Tayo’s was different and more personal. I lured him through a girl I paid to date him. She wasn’t even a student. But, of course, he didn’t know this. She put stuff in her vagina that made him weak and less active. He became less energetic in the basketball court and students joked that he was getting too much sex.’ Bimpe laughed until she began to cough.

‘Sorry. Here..’ I handed her a bottle of water. She drank up and suddenly appeared sober.

‘So, everything I say here is confidential, right?’

‘Of course,’ I said.

Bimpe played with her nails for some seconds, and then looked up. ‘I sound like a witch, right?’

‘Do you feel good about your life so far?’

‘Ha! I wish.’

‘So, tell me, why are you here?’

She stared at her bottle of water on the table between us and shifted position on her chair. ‘I don’t know. You’re the therapist. Tell me what I need.’

‘I think you know.’

‘I do?’

I inched close. ‘Tell me, why do you think after all you‘ve done, you still aren’t happy?’

Bimpe stared at a spot on the wall. I wasn’t sure whether she heard me or was simply ignoring the question.

‘Do you–’

‘I want to stop this vendetta.’ Bimpe bit her lower lip and looked me in the eye. ‘I’ve lost count of men I have harmed or killed…and I am tired of it all.’

‘So you really want to stop?’

‘Yes…but…there’s a problem.’

10

The NGO was a front for Bimpe’s “man-beast” hunt. On the surface, it had the perfect appearance of a women’s support group, a place where rape victims shared their stories and helped each other. But there was more, call it a special team if you like, an army of vengeful females who did the dirty work of “disabling” Abuja’s serial rapists.

Bimpe started by rallying together girls who had rape history in her university. After her graduation, she registered The Female Caregivers as a non-profit organization. Now her soldiers were all over the place, many of them seeking to take revenge. To disband them, she focused on the support group program as advised by her therapist. The women’s stories didn’t seem to have an end. New faces poured in daily, a clear sign that the city had rapists on the loose. When a busty woman in Ankara stepped into the room, Bimpe introduced her and the women gave her a standing ovation.  

11

‘Thanks for visiting us,’ Bimpe said as she sat across from me in the restaurant. She had removed the artificial eyelashes and wore a blue Ankara blouse with matching trousers. Her smile wasn’t strained but flowed into her eyes and gave her a radiant look.

‘You’re welcome,’ I said. ‘Nice blouse.’

Bimpe’s smile broadened. ‘Just trying to be like you, I guess.’ She pointed at my outfit. ‘You always look good in Ankara.’

I returned her smile. There are boundaries to patient-therapist relationships, but I had since broken some with Bimpe. Right now, I was about to break another. After we placed our orders, I leaned forward. ‘My dear, have I ever told you why I chose to be a therapist specifically for rape victims?’

Bimpe sipped her drink and sat back. ‘No.’

I sighed. ‘You remember your late Uncle Richard brought home a girl the day he died?’

She paused, glass halfway to her lips. ‘Yes.’

‘That was me.’

Bimpe’s glass slipped from her fingers and landed on its side with a thud, spilling her drink. Her eyes widened and her hands began to shake.