Finding Out

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Isabelle Simeon was the girl your parents warned you against.

Not really the girl. But her condition made her the girl your parents warned you against. She had not remembered the last time she went to bed dry eyed, and waking up without dried tears stuck to her cheeks, eyes puffed and heavy from crying all night. Her days consisted of sadness and depression and regret, disappointment in the faces of people waited ahead. And it hurt her to know that the only place she had thought she could seek refuge in was the one that hurt her, had rejected her the most.

The Life's Church. Some call it TLC. Her church.
Where her parents served as deacons. They used to be of so much importance, such a high integrity in that church, where people had flocked to them, when the Senior Pastor and his wife wasn't available. They began the standard by which families followed. Her older sister, Nadine, and her, were also used as lessons to other children. No one could disrespect them, it was a doubt that anyone would even come close to the word disrespect when it came to her family.

But just until her belly started to show.

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Dear Diary ,

At my big age I'm still writing to paper, to something that would never speak back at me. It's best I do it that way, because I don't like being judged . It's best I pour out my feelings on a non living thing. Anyway that's not on my mind. I have some news for you

I did it! I had done what I wasn't supposed to do, and yes! I am proud of myself. A bit though. I had overcome the jests and mockery of my friends Mercy and Damilola, for being part of the 16% of girls in our year that's not had sex . Mercy had a boyfriend in university of Abuja and during one of those days they had done it. Mercy bragged about it to us all week long, and even when I told her to stop bragging about such sin she had looked me up and down and laughed.

"Deputy Preacher, you will never change" She said. And to be honest I was angry and annoyed that I didn't know what it meant to have a boy touch me like that. I mean, it's cause my parents are highly respected at church and I wasn't about to do anything that would embarrass them. So I used the bible as my shield and I had 1 Corinthians 6: 18 pasted on my notice board in my room. Even Nadine had it in her room and that scripture alone instilled a lot of fear, a fear of consciousness. So boys were out of bounds. Not not until I became friends with Mercy.

Which I'm kind of glad I did. If not, I'd be sleeping each night, or morning after Mercy, Damilola and I sneaked off to a night club, with the guilt of that scripture burning down my chest. It did for a while and then it stopped, when Mercy told be to calm down and let Sultan talk to me.

Sultan was one of the hottest *eek, I used that word* boys in our year. He was dark and lanky and his hair was always in an Afro, though he got punished for it so many times. He had also been trying to get with me for sometime but I wasn't genuinely interested, but now, because people thought we should be together, I relented. At the club, he had seen me and approached me with a smile.

"Cowbell" He said when he came in front of me. I folded my arms to cover the halter necked top I wore that exposed a lot of cleavage and I was uncomfortable because back at home I couldn't even wear something that showed my bare chest, not to talk more of the cleavage. I frowned at him. He gave me this stupid nickname and funny enough he thinks it's cute.

I eyed him, kissed my teeth and looked another way. Mercy came by and nudged my arm. She was drunk and I smelt the alcohol in her breath

"You better stop forming and go dance with him" She bobbed her head to a music playing. It was a Nigerian song, I think Wizkid, but I don't listen to it because my parents insist on strictly Gospel, so when the topic of music came up, I kept silent.

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