Wrong number Ep. 6
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Wrong number Ep. 6


By Toyin Rachael  Posted on 2nd Aug 2018

Estimated reading time: 7 mins 2 secs



© Copyright notice: No part of this story should be produced in any other format or distributed elsewhere without the prior notice of management of Country Tales or the author.

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“We haven't started the procedure yet,” the doctor said.

“Why?" I asked. "I remembered you put me to sleep.”

“You reacted to the anesthesia we gave you. We were able to resuscitate you after two good hours.”

I now remembered everything I saw when I was asleep; it was all like a dream. I saw myself waving at my parents and siblings, and I begged my boyfriend to go and tell my parents what happened to me. Meaning I almost die indeed. I silently thank God for sparing my life.

At the end of the day, the abortion had to be done without any anesthesia. It was so painful; I screamed, I cried.

My boyfriend was there all throughout; he held my hands and tried to calm me down. To be candid, I gave everyone in the theatre a tough time. Some minutes later, the doctor was through.

He left while the nurses handled the rest. One of the nurses was so nice to me; the other one gave me a scornful look. I got the message she passed across. In her mind, she called me all sorts of names: slut, LovePeddler, fornicator and murderer, I guess. She can call me anything she wants, but I'm pretty much sure she isn't better than me in any way.

The kind nurse advice me to be careful next time. She told me guys are not really worth all the pains they put us through. She compared them to birds; they can fly away anytime. She also said if my boyfriend insists on not using protection next time, then I should zip up. She gave me all the advice she would give her own younger sister. She even gave me her number to call if anything comes up although she prayed there wouldn't be any complications. I thanked her wholeheartedly.

I was made to relax for some time before leaving. I was given antibiotics and some analgesics. I joined Tunde at the reception and we left the hospital.

We got back to my boyfriend's place. He prepared food and hot beverage. I couldn't eat the food but I took the beverage. My cousin called and I told her I was back from the hospital. She wanted to come over but I told her it wasn't necessary and that I'll be fine.

An hour later, the show began. I started bleeding. The bleeding was so much that I had to use two packs of sanitary pad in less than two hours. We were both scared to death.

I remembered the kind nurse gave me her phone number. I called her and she told me it was normal, at least for now. She told me the kind of sanitary pad to use, not the regular ones. She also prescribed some drugs; I called out the names while Tunde jotted them down. She told me to keep her posted.

Tunde rushed down to a nearby drugstore to buy the sanitary pads and drugs. I couldn't eat anything and I was getting weaker. He forced me to take some energy drinks he had bought on his way back. I took it and vomited on the floor.

I saw all the stress Tunde went through and I had no choice than to pity him. He washed all my soiled clothes and stained bed spreads. He even washed the toilets and made sure the room was clean.

“Well done!” I said to him when he was through with the washing.

“Thank you. And I'm sorry for putting you through all these,” he said with all sincerity.

I nodded.

I was indoor for a whole week, bleeding for the first three days. It was terrible; I thought I wouldn't make it.

The good thing was that, our faculty had a one week exhibition and they declared the week lecture-free. So I didn't get to miss lectures that week. After ten days, the flow stooped. I saw hell; it was an awful experience.

My boyfriend stood by me all through and the hatred I had for him vanished slowly. I shouldn't punish him for our mistake.

After the flow stopped and I was strong enough, I packed my things and left Tunde's place; no more cohabitation. He didn't even bother to convince me to stay. He knew my mind was made up.

I got back to my place. He actually followed me and help me clean up my room. He made sure I was okay before he left.

That night, I wanted to pray but I couldn't; I felt God will slap me if I dared to call Him. I couldn't even open my mouth to ask Him for forgiveness.

Something kept disturbing my peace. My conscience was telling me, “If you die now or should the rapture occur today, you will go straight to hell."

After days of debating within myself, I asked God for forgiveness but I couldn't forgive myself. I killed a harmless child; that baby was supposed to be my first child, but I denied it the right to live.

I lived with this guilt everyday. I refused to go to church, thinking God will strike me down if I dared enter his house. To explain my absence, I gave my Church members some funny excuses.

Since I was scared of going to Church, I only listened to messages on radio. One Sunday morning, the preacher talked about forgiveness. I cried after I heard the message. From what the preacher said, I realised that God had already forgiven me; all I needed to do was forgive myself.

That message really helped me moved on with life. I started attending Church afterwards and I felt normal again.

#We cannot embrace God's forgiveness if we are so busy clinging to past wounds# - T.D Jakes

****

The following week, Joy came from her own school to check on me. I already told her on phone that I was fine, but she still insisted on seeing me with her own eyes. She was happy to see move back into my room. She never liked the idea of cohabitation.

I resumed lectures. All my course mates accused Tunde and I for not coming for the exhibition. We lied that we traveled. Everything was back to normal again.

For months, I was on my own. I never allowed Tunde to touch me. I told him to give me time because I realised I feared sex more than anything else. He respected my opinion. He said he'll wait till I come around.

****

A year later, we successfully made it to the final year. We heard a shocking news; this news was on TV, radio, every where. A particular hospital was raided by the police. Report got to them that the owner of the hospital is fetish; he used pregnant women for rituals, especially those who came for abortion. He uses both the fetus and mother for rituals. Many girls have been reported dead on his operating table. The news had already spread across the whole city.

Tunde and I were shocked; this was the same hospital I almost entered to have an abortion.

“No wonder you said your spirit did not agree with that hospital.” Tunde said, still in shock.

“I would have been a victim too.” I said.

I didn't know where the tears came from; I cried. So God answered my prayer that day? I know He did not do it for me but for my mother, who have served Him diligently with her whole heart.

“This is nothing but pure grace. Indeed our grace differs,” I said to myself. That very minute, I made a promise to serve him for the rest of my life.

Everything went well between Tunde and I. My love for him waxed stronger. We both graduated with a first class honours. Tunde came out as second best overall student.

Months later, we began our service. We served in different states but things were going on smoothly between us. We had everything planned out; we planned of getting married once we were through with service and fully employed.

Continued on next page...

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