I was already deliberating on what object would be easier to take my life, I thought of stabbing myself to death, but no, I might not be able to do it excruciatingly and someone might quickly take me to the hospital and I’ll be charged for attempting murder. Hanging myself would be a good idea, but I don’t really want to struggle too long. I can’t afford a gun so it wasn’t an idea. It was much later I thought of poison. It would be easier for me.

Let’s start the story a different way.

My dad was a Pastor, well respected and reverend because of his meek nature. He’s a very strict man inside the house. He caution us on almost everything we do including the cloths we put on and the kind of company we keep.

I am the fifth of seven girls and quite humble and resembled my Dad in all ways down to the way he eats and even blink his eyes.

I was considered the smartest. And like Merlin, many things rested on my shoulders. To my mom, I was the best, even if she never said it I could tell. My Dad was super proud of me, I mean, “she’s my daughter” had become my name.

It was 5th of July 2012, the day I won N300,000 from a tech competition I’d partaken online. My picture was posted everywhere on social media, friends called to congratulate me, it was the first time I experienced being a public figure. That day, my followers on Instagram skyrocketed. Everyone that came to our place that day had to hear “that’s my daughter.”

But my happiness was overshadowed by another bad news, I was pregnant. I just found out that it had been three months. I was only 19 in senior secondary school two.

Things became worse when I called Samuel, whom I believe was responsible and intelligent, we’ve planned our lives as small as we were together—he denied the pregnancy.

I was growing thin every passing hour. I thought suicide was the only option, I could imagine the magnitude of disgrace I’d cost my dad and the entire family. My first four sisters hadn’t even gotten pregnant.

It was almost like I had insomnia because I was unable to sleep. And after I’d settled my mind to poison myself to death, for the first time in a week I fell asleep that afternoon.

I had a dream, it was the shortest I’ve ever had in my life; my dad sat beside me in a field and he asked a simple question, “What is eating you up, Immaculate? Talk to me.”

I woke up and decided that I talk to Dad. He was in church, so I went to him. As soon as he saw me he said, “my very own daughter, in whom I am well pleased.” And I melted. His smiles were so broad I predicted he’d die if he lost me.

He was a little busy, but after he’d attended to everyone whom had come to him for cancelling, he gave me his bible preparing to go home. It was then I told him I had something Important to tell him.

Before I finished narrating all that happened, his face was covered with tears, he nearly choked when I told him I had it in mind to take my life. I also made him understand it wasn’t the devil’s woke but my own deadly mistake for he’s taught us to take responsibility and never to blame anyone for our own misfortune.

After a long stare at me, he hugged me and cried like a boy not a man. My heart melted, my soul shivered.

This was what he said, “Go home, ok? Do not do anything silly, ok? I am glad you’ve realized your mistakes and hope you’ve leaned your lesson. I understand the stage of life your are. I’ll keep you from pobluc eye, Daddy got this.”

I felt relieved because my father, I know, was the strictest I’ve ever seen.

After three days, he took me for an abortion, I could not believe it. The two of us had gone alone. Although I predicted that I might still lose my life in the process since it wasn’t sanctioned my God. “God will forgive us,” he told me.

Just like my dad might have done in the waiting room while my mom was in the delivery room, I knew he was pacing about. After so much strength left me, I closed my eyes and prayed that my Dad never got a bad news while he paced.

At least, that’s the last thing I remembered.

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