CHIDINMA'S STORY

Part 3

3

The day I found out I was scared of boys or the male gender being around me or coming close was the day I lost my hope. I highlighted it in another Journal update. You can check it out to understand. Well, it was after I lost him. I went home, and on my bed in my room, I sat down and thought about what he had said. It was impossible, right? I mean, I used to hold Nonso all the time. I always bathed him, even if I closed my eyes while doing it, I still did it.

When Nonso was only a baby, I couldn't help but think about him being as horrible as most men when he grew up. I didn't even want to see him naked, not because it did anything to me, but because I had a lot of horrible flashbacks of naked bodies and male genitalia the first time I was told to bathe nonso. I imagined horrible male adult species as nonso when they were little. It's crazy that everything about them was small and now, as adults, everything was all grown and disgusting, and the thought of it while I bathed Nonso made me throw up.

I didn't want to taint my beautiful brother with such nasty memories, so each time I bathe him I close my eyes shut to avoid seeing even an inch of his skin. I know it sucks. But he was too precious to be attached to such a gruesome experience.

Maybe I really did hate boys. I never really let hope come close to me. I liked him so much that sometimes I wished I could hold his hands, even for a second, and not feel some type of emotion. But I just couldn't help the flashes and the urge to vomit. I decided that I'd try the next day to hold his hands. To be honest, it went so so wrong and I wish I hadn't done it till today.

I walked up to him. He was taken aback. I held his hands. I smiled, impressed that I could do it and there was truly nothing wrong with me. But it lasted only for five seconds. I counted it in my head, five, four, three, two, one, splursh! All across his face, and down to his school shorts, was my vomit, and my hope of retaining my hope falling down the drain.