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DIFFICULT TO BELIEVE

I stood on the balcony of my house holding her picture with her blood stain still on it. My wife Stephanie was playing with our daughter Amoy downstairs. I was watching them from the balcony not until I brought out the picture and the past filled my mind making no room for the present. I looked at her picture and it all began to reoccur in my mind again. The blood stain on the picture made me shed soft tears. “She never deserved to die." I would always say. My mind flashed back as I gazed at her smiling visage in the picture; I could remember everything. It all happened 20 years ago but it was still like 20 days ago to me. I was 17 years old when it all happened, I was still a very young boy then but I actually became a man during those periods. I flashed my mind back to the events of yesterday, the time I stood on the altar with my wife, Stephanie. I flashed it back again to the day I woke up in a hospital recovery room in Santiago de Cuba with no sound heard other than that of the beeping monitor and the rotating ceiling fan. I flashed it back to the incident that led me to the hospital and I stopped on the day it all started. It was on Sunday, 2nd day of May 1999. I was a young boy then. A young boy of about four and a half feet tall. I had a baby face and I was blessed (I guess that what some will call it) with a gap teeth that always made me pretty whenever I opened it. Most people called me prince charming and some ladies thought I was gorgeous. That Sunday, I appeared in a suit matched with a tie. I looked so handsome and innocent. You could say I was a responsible child judging by my outfit but believe me, I wasn't like how I appeared that Sunday. I wasn't in my real form that Sunday; you can call it a cover up or a disguise but I was up to something that Sunday, something that led to my transformation, something that changed my whole life. I was a boy who followed bad gangs, I was a boy who stole from his father, I was a boy who never greeted his elders but preferred insulting them. I was a headache to my parents. You could call me a spoilt brat then but it wasn't a new name to me especially in my school. In all those bad behaviors of mine, there was one which I could call the worst of it all now, I was a misogynist. To me then, all women were a mistake except for my close relations even though I valued them a little lesser especially my granny but for my mom, I think she is a special woman unique from others. As I was saying, I was a boy who thought of marriage as a sin and boyfriend and girlfriend act as an act of stupidity performed by most of the youths. I was a boy who thought of women like pests and worms. I was a boy whom you will find unbelievable. I am PETER CHIBUIKE JOSHUA.

Kingsley_Ifebuche · Realista
Classificações insuficientes
9 Chs

PART ONE; (HOW IT BEGAN)

MY NAME IS Joshua but Josh have taken over my name; everybody knows me by Josh. Though the name is good but I thought of changing my name to David but seriously speaking, David didn't suit me. Those bearing that name are mostly those we called believers or God fearers, but me no way, I didn't believe in God.

I thought of this and I decided to change it to Michael because I am a very big fan of Michael Jackson.

I told my friends (boys only) to start calling me Michael yet they end up still calling me Josh so I had to accept the fact that it was too late to change my name blaming it on my parents who made the mistake in the first place.

Talking of my parents, they are the best parents in the world but not to me then. They are God fearing, they tried their best to make sure I was God fearing too but I was a very stubborn boy; my parents were very strict when it comes to discipline but I was a very hard nut to crack. To me, my parents were insects that won't allow a person to be free. They really annoyed me with their daily persuasions to pray, go to church and read the bible.

But one thing gave me the courage to tolerate them; my father was among the rich men that controlled our state. His name and our family name 'Peters" was a popular name in my state. The name had the influence of wealth and power whenever it was mentioned. My father had a filling station with the name 'Peters oil and gas company'. My father had a plastic manufacturing company also with the name 'Peters'. My father also had a biscuit factory but was named after my annoying little sister, 'Betty Peters crackers biscuit'. My father also had many other little shops and my name was used in naming one of them but it was a boutique and the worst part of it was that it was almost all ladies wears that was sold in it and most of the workers and sales persons there were ladies and it was so absurd to me. I denied the fact that the boutique was mine even though my mom was the one managing it.

Let me talk about my family. My father's name is Peter Ike and my mom is Angela Peters. I have two younger siblings Frank Peters and Elizabeth Peters. Though I didn't like girls but I didn't play with my younger sister. My siblings didn't live with us, they were staying with my auntie, aunt Alice in Australia while I stayed with my parents here in Nigeria like an only child. My father was still planning on bringing them back to Nigeria but it was still on pending.

My father is from Onitsha south in Anambra state while my mom is from Enugu, I mean Ezeagu local Government Area to be precise. I was a Nigerian future patriotic citizen, but you could say I was only a citizen.

Even with all my father's wealth, we were still living a simple life. My father was one man that hated pride. If not that his face was sometimes seen on magazines and television, you won't ever know he was a millionaire when you see him. He always appeared like a normal rich man working in a bank or company under someone but he was a man employing hundreds of workers.

For me, I thought of my father as a stingy millionaire. If I were in his shoes, oh my God! I would enjoy my money to the full. Firstly, I would open an organization or club house only for boys and each would have a car. Whenever I rolled, I'll roll in a convoy of women haters gang. I would be so popular more than 2face Idibia and so powerful more than Governor Chinwoke Mbadinuju, our state governor. I didn't understand why my father would always wake up by 6:am, leave for work by 7:am and come back late in the evening. He had made the money so why the stress? If I were him I would just sit at home and enjoy the money I already have made before I die.

For my mom, I think she was stupid too. Don't get me wrong but come to think of it, how could she be stressing herself everyday going to that miserable Joshua celestial unisex boutique while her husband was a multi-millionaire who still went out everyday looking for more, that's stupidity, don't you think so?

Now let me talk about my personal life. As you have known already, I was a misogynist. I preferred hanging out with boys who didn't have any girlfriends though they were just few. I persuaded my father to enroll me in a school only for boys but what do you think? My father didn't do that, rather he enrolled me in a school for both genders, the best in town known as Best chosen intellect high school. Though almost everybody in that school came from a wealthy family but I was the most popular and the most respected not because of how I spent money but just because I bear the name 'Peters'. One thing that made me sick in my school was that girls ruled it. Out of 100% of the student in that school, girls were 68% or maybe even 72%. They really wished to hangout with me but I avoided them like a disease. That was the reason some of them referred to me as a rude boy but I didn't care. I loved the way I was. Some even thought I was a gay but it didn't move me. I hated girls to my rib and I myself didn't know why. I remembered one particular day a girl maybe new in my school approached me.

"Hello!" she stated as I looked at her from her head to her toe. I was in a good mood that day so I replied her with a 'hello' too.

"Please," she started. "How can I get to the principals office?"

"Just take this route," I began with a gesticulation. "Over that building there."

"Okay, thank you."

"You're welcome."

The girl got what she deserved, instead of her to just go her way, she decided to pull a string.

"My name is Anny," she began. "What's yours?"

"As what?" I replied angrily.

"No it's just..."

"Just what? Please leave my presence you moron."

The girl whom her face was filled with smiles earlier left speechlessly with consternation written all over her face that anyone close by would feel pity for her. But for me, don't ask me how I felt because you already know how. Frankly speaking, I loved that my way of living. To me, my life style then was what I called real life.