1Once upon a time in a busy city, there was a wealthy family. The parents, Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin, were always working hard to make money and grow their business. They lived in a big house and had everything they could ever want, except time for their only child, a little boy named Oliver. Oliver was only 8 years old, but he often felt very lonely. His parents were never around to play with him or listen to his stories. Oliver’s parents loved him, but they were so focused on work that they didn’t notice how sad he had become. Every morning, they rushed off to their offices, leaving Oliver with the house help. They had a routine of dropping him off at his grandmother’s house whenever they had long trips or very busy work schedules, but Oliver dreaded going to his grandmother’s place. His grandmother, Mrs. James, lived alone in a beautiful house at the edge of town. She was a tall, elegant woman with silver hair and always wore the finest clothes. She had been single for over 30 years after her husband passed away. Even though she seemed friendly and caring to everyone else, Oliver knew that there was something different about her, something that made him uncomfortable.Every time Oliver’s parents told him he would be staying with Grandma James, his heart sank. “But I don’t want to go,” he would tell them. “Can’t I stay here with the house help?” But his parents would always say the same thing, “Your Grandma loves you. You should be happy to stay with her. We’ll be back before you know it.” So off Oliver went, feeling helpless. At first, his grandmother welcomed him with open arms, cooking him nice meals and buying him toys, but as soon as the sun set and the house became quiet, her kind smile disappeared. She began treating Oliver differently in ways that made him feel un--easy and sc--ared. He didn’t know how to explain it, but something was very wrong. She would hold him too CLOSE, put his fingers in a strange place, ki--ss him on the lips, and car--ess his back, and sometimes do more things that made him want to cry. The boy didn’t know how to tell his parents about it. Whenever they came to pick him up after their long trips, they were too tired to listen to him. “I don’t like staying at Grandma’s house,” he tried to say once, but they brushed him off. “Oliver, we’re doing this for you. We’re working so you can have a good life. Now be a good boy.” Oliver knew his parents loved him, but they never had time to hear him out.The grandmother, on the other hand, always acted sweet and caring in front of them. “He’s such a joy to have around,” she would say, smiling brightly. Well, he was a joy but not in the way Oliver's parents thought. WICKED GRANDMA DID THIS TO HER GRANDSON, THIS IS A LESSON TO EVERY PARENT2Oliver ha--ted those moments because no one could see what was really going on. At school, his teachers noticed that he wasn’t the cheerful boy he used to be.He became quieter, sadder, and often sat alone during playtime. His friends would ask him to join their games, but Oliver just didn’t feel like playing anymore. His heart felt heavy with a secret he didn’t understand.He knew what his grandmother was doing was wrong, but he didn’t know how to stop it. She always told him, “Don’t tell anyone, Oliver. This is our little secret. If you tell, no one will believe you. They’ll think you’re lying.” And so, Oliver stayed silent. He thought maybe his parents were too busy to help him, and he felt completely alone.The more time he spent at his grandmother’s house, the worse it got. The nights were the hardest. He would lie awake, hoping for the sun to rise quickly so that he could go back home.One day, after a particularly long stay, Oliver sat by the window of her house, looking out at the world. He watched other children playing outside and wished he could be like them, carefree and happy. Instead, he felt trapped in a world where no one seemed to care about his pain.Grandma James continued her life as though everything was normal, always wearing her fancy clothes and acting like the perfect grandmother in front of others. But when it was just her and Oliver, she was different.At school, Oliver’s behavior grew even more unusual. He looked tired all the time, and his smile had disappeared. One day, his teacher, Mrs. Jack, asked him to stay after class.“Oliver, is everything okay?” she asked, her voice soft and kind.Oliver just stared at the floor, ashamed and scared. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. Mrs. Jack wasn’t convinced, but without Oliver saying anything, she couldn’t do much to help.At home, his parents barely noticed the changes. They were always in a rush, preparing for the next business trip or meeting. “Not now, Oliver,” they would say. “We’ll talk later.” But later never came.One evening, as Oliver was getting ready for bed at his grandmother’s house, she came into his room with that same fake smile. Oliver’s heart started to race.“Be a go

𝑴𝒀 𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫 𝑨𝑺𝑲 𝑴𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑶𝑾 MY MENSTRUAL PAD MYSELF THAT HE WILL, ALWAYS HELPS TRASH IT EVERY MONTH.. UNTIL I STARTED NOTICING THIS. EPISODE 1 My Name Is Adeola,I'm 20 Years Old. Please Learn from My Mistake. I hope every young lady, especially those who depend solely on their rich Yahoo boyfriends, learns something from my story. My life was ruined because of carelessness and my desperate hunger for money. “Don’t throw away your pad, Adeola. I’ll help you with that,” he always said. “Why?” I asked him curiously the first time. He ran his fingers through his hair and said, “Uhm... because I’m your boyfriend. It’s my duty to help you with things like that.” written by Adeola I looked at him with suspicion. But I loved him so much... Who was I to doubt him? So I would just hand him my used pad and go back to the room, believing he was simply helping me dispose of it. --- written by Adeola Paul my boyfriend, was very generous. He bought me the latest iPhone, took me shopping at the end of every month—sometimes right after I finished my period. Yes, Paul is a Yahoo boy. But I loved how hardworking he seemed. I always prayed he’d land a big client so he could keep taking care of me. Everything seemed to be going smoothly—paul always handled my menstrual pads and made me feel special. He even kept track of my ovulation cycle and knew exactly when my period would start. Whenever I was close to seeing my period, Paul would call me over to his place. I’d spend about a week with him, and during that time, he would pamper me with so much love and attention. I thought this was what love looked like—a caring boyfriend who spent money on me and always wanted me around. But then Paul started asking for something unusual... something shocking. He asked that we have s𝒆̨x during my period. I hesitated and told him I wasn’t comfortable with that. But he got f𝒖̈rious. A𝒏̃gry. Cold. I didn’t want to upset him. So I gave in. I told myself, “It’s just a few minutes of s*x. I can clean up afterwards.” written by Adeola But what started as a “few minutes of s*x” during my period led to something strange... Something terrifying began to happen after paul started sleeping with me during my menstruation. Written by Adeola I didn’t want to upset him. So I gave in. I told myself, “It’s just a few minutes of sex. I can clean up afterwards.” Written by Adeola But what started as just “a few minutes” during my period turned into something strange… something terrifying. Each time paul and I made out while I was menstruating, the bedspread would end up soaked in my own bl0d. Written by Adeola Somehow, I always felt terrible afterwards,like something wasn’t right. But I couldn’t stop. My biggest fê@r was paul getting upset with me. I didn’t want that. Ever since we started dating back in my 200 level in university, my life had changed for good. The feeling of being dropped off on campus in a flashy car… The pride of sitting in the front seat beside Paul, looking at other girls as though they were beneath me… The constant pampering, the shopping, the expensive gifts. I felt like a queen. Though my mother had warned me countless times to stay away from Paul, I refused to listen. She couldn’t be the one to kill my joy. And as for my broke friends? The ones I used to hang out with? They all faded away, unable to keep up with my new standard. After one of our usual s*x, we were about to clean up when Paul stopped me. He insisted he would wash me himself. “What kind of love is this?” I blushed, feeling shy but flattered. He led me into the bathroom. I wanted to sit on the WC, but Paul told me to sit on a bathing bucket instead. Then he poured water over me, washing the blood off gently,into the bucket. Cūrious, I asked why he was collecting the bl0dy water. He smiled and said, “Don’t worry… I’ll flush it myself.” I didn’t think too much of it at first. I mean, paul had always been the caring type… or so I thought. But then it became a routine. Each time I visited him during my peri0d, he’d insist on washing me. He’d always make sure to collect the water filled with my bl0d—every single time. And he’d never let me flush it. He’d take the bucket himself… step outside quietly… and return minutes later, smiling as though nothing happened. I should have known something was wrong. But I was too blinded by the lifestyle… Too afraid of losing him… Too addicted to the feeling of being “better than the rest.” Too addicted to the feeling of being “better than the rest.” Then… the nightmares began. WRITTEN BY Adeola ✍️ ___________ Every night, I’d wake up in cold sweat. Bl0d. Buckets. Shadows. I’d dream of someone chanting my name in the dark… someone holding my p@d… someone bathing in my bl0d. I started getting weak. My skin grew pale. I lost my appetite. Even my peri0ds started coming heavier than usual—lasting longer, more p*inful. To be continue,it means so much to me ,thank you so much everyone

𝑴𝒀 𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫 𝑨𝑺𝑲 𝑴𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑶𝑾 MY MENSTRUAL PAD MYSELF THAT HE WILL, ALWAYS HELPS TRASH IT EVERY MONTH.. UNTIL I STARTED NOTICING THIS. EPISODE 1My Name Is Adeola,I'm 20 Years Old. Please Learn from My Mistake.I hope every young lady, especially those who depend solely on their rich Yahoo boyfriends, learns something from my story. My life was ruined because of carelessness and my desperate hunger for money.“Don’t throw away your pad, Adeola. I’ll help you with that,” he always said.“Why?” I asked him curiously the first time.He ran his fingers through his hair and said,“Uhm... because I’m your boyfriend. It’s my duty to help you with things like that.” written by Adeola I looked at him with suspicion.But I loved him so much...Who was I to doubt him?So I would just hand him my used pad and go back to the room, believing he was simply helping me dispose of it.--- written by Adeola Paul my boyfriend, was very generous.He bought me the latest iPhone, took me shopping at the end of every month—sometimes right after I finished my period.Yes, Paul is a Yahoo boy. But I loved how hardworking he seemed.I always prayed he’d land a big client so he could keep taking care of me.Everything seemed to be going smoothly—paul always handled my menstrual pads and made me feel special.He even kept track of my ovulation cycle and knew exactly when my period would start.Whenever I was close to seeing my period, Paul would call me over to his place. I’d spend about a week with him, and during that time, he would pamper me with so much love and attention.I thought this was what love looked like—a caring boyfriend who spent money on me and always wanted me around.But then Paul started asking for something unusual... something shocking.He asked that we have s𝒆̨x during my period.I hesitated and told him I wasn’t comfortable with that.But he got f𝒖̈rious.A𝒏̃gry.Cold.I didn’t want to upset him. So I gave in. I told myself, “It’s just a few minutes of s*x. I can clean up afterwards.” written by Adeola But what started as a “few minutes of s*x” during my period led to something strange...Something terrifying began to happen after paul started sleeping with me during my menstruation.Written by Adeola I didn’t want to upset him. So I gave in.I told myself, “It’s just a few minutes of sex. I can clean up afterwards.”Written by Adeola But what started as just “a few minutes” during my period turned into something strange… something terrifying.Each time paul and I made out while I was menstruating, the bedspread would end up soaked in my own bl0d.Written by Adeola Somehow, I always felt terrible afterwards,like something wasn’t right. But I couldn’t stop.My biggest fê@r was paul getting upset with me. I didn’t want that.Ever since we started dating back in my 200 level in university, my life had changed for good.The feeling of being dropped off on campus in a flashy car…The pride of sitting in the front seat beside Paul, looking at other girls as though they were beneath me…The constant pampering, the shopping, the expensive gifts.I felt like a queen.Though my mother had warned me countless times to stay away from Paul, I refused to listen. She couldn’t be the one to kill my joy.And as for my broke friends? The ones I used to hang out with? They all faded away, unable to keep up with my new standard.After one of our usual s*x, we were about to clean up when Paul stopped me.He insisted he would wash me himself.“What kind of love is this?” I blushed, feeling shy but flattered.He led me into the bathroom. I wanted to sit on the WC, but Paul told me to sit on a bathing bucket instead.Then he poured water over me, washing the blood off gently,into the bucket.Cūrious, I asked why he was collecting the bl0dy water.He smiled and said, “Don’t worry… I’ll flush it myself.”I didn’t think too much of it at first.I mean, paul had always been the caring type… or so I thought.But then it became a routine.Each time I visited him during my peri0d, he’d insist on washing me.He’d always make sure to collect the water filled with my bl0d—every single time.And he’d never let me flush it.He’d take the bucket himself… step outside quietly… and return minutes later, smiling as though nothing happened.I should have known something was wrong.But I was too blinded by the lifestyle…Too afraid of losing him…Too addicted to the feeling of being “better than the rest.”Too addicted to the feeling of being “better than the rest.”Then… the nightmares began.WRITTEN BY Adeola ✍️ ___________Every night, I’d wake up in cold sweat.Bl0d. Buckets. Shadows.I’d dream of someone chanting my name in the dark… someone holding my p@d… someone bathing in my bl0d.I started getting weak.My skin grew pale.I lost my appetite.Even my peri0ds started coming heavier than usual—lasting longer, more p*inful. To be continue,it means so much to me ,thank you so much everyone