Rugged To The Core

Chapter 81

"There is a particular focus of the problem faced only by men. It arises from our culture providing no room for a man as victim."

~ Mike Lew, Victims No Longer: Men Recovering From Incest And Other Sexual Child Abuse.

Lucky

     My fist stopped mid-air as the gate opened to reveal an irritated Victor with his guitar strapped over his shoulder.

"You!?" He practically shouted, expressing his distaste with my presence.

I didn't blame him. I had been continuously banging the gate like a crazy person. I didn't even know if his parents were upstairs.

"Victor... " I clapped both hands together before me, expressing my desperation. "Please, I am so sorry but I need to see Ugo. Please, just let me see him. Please."

     Victor eyed me, slowly, the grimace on his face faded and he now wore a pokerface. Surprisingly, he shifted, opening the gate further for me to come in.

"He only just returned home. Didn't sleep here last night. Go see him, I don't care."

"Thank you very much!" I cried out, before taking off to the entrance of the house.

     I opened the front door and stepped in. I proceeded to the stairs, gripping the strap of my purse with one hand and the railing with the other. I took two steps at a time, feeling my heart thunder against my chest. I wanted to see him. After the revelation he'd made, he'd abruptly ended the call. I had tried calling back fifty times but he never answered. If he had answered I didn't know what I would have said to him, I did know but I still left him missed calls and text messages anyways.

I couldn't get myself to go back to bed, I couldn't even get myself to lay down. I sat down the whole night with my phone in my grip, crying, wondering how he was doing at the moment, envisioning the circumstances that had led to the incident. I was curious, scared and I felt paralysed. The hours before daybreak were long and I had prayed for day to come quickly.

     Faiqah had planted the thought in my head and Abel's reaction when I had asked him didn't help me at all. It reinforced my suspicions but I wasn't going to bring it up again, I swear. I had decided to dissipate the idea and had only hoped it wasn't true even though it was painfully obvious Abel was hiding something. Never would I have imagined his initial molester had been his own father, it was simply out of my comprehension, it wasn't a remote possibility. But it was turning out to be a scary reality.

     So the minute I was able to, I had flown out of the house. Luckily it was a public holiday, there was no school nationwide.

     I remember the room he'd walked into the day I had come here for our thesis preparation. As I stood in the landing, I realised the door was wide open. Gripping the strap of my bag with both hands, I slowly advanced to the room. I stopped before the threshold and saw Abel's large frame laid on the unmade bed. He laid on his side, facing the window with his back to me. His body was slightly curled, like he was cold and helpless. He was dressed in grey joggers and what appeared to be a matching hoodie.

I suddenly felt like crying.

I didn't know what I was walking into.

"Abel...?" I whispered out.

     I slowly strode into the room, advancing to the bed. With my heart racing, I audaciously sat on the bed next to him and began to think about my next move.