CHRONICLE OF HER EXISTENCE

In that moment that he touched me, everything faded away. His hand's embrace on my thighs felt like home. Our gazes locked, igniting a fire within. With each gentle approach of his lips, I wanted more. I felt the rhythm of his heart against my chest, as his hands explored every inch of my being, each touch a tender caress, a whisper of healing. His kisses were like a devotion, that traced a path of worship, from my feet to my trembling lips, his fervor matched only by the depth of his desire. With each tender suck, it felt like time stood still, his breath mingling with mine, Creating a symphony of passion and need. But it was his tongue that held the true magic, guiding me to a place of ecstasy, each flick and swirl a testament to his love for me. In his embrace, I found paradise, lost in the aesthetic of his touch. At that moment nothing mattered anymore to me, I just wanted to be consumed with this romance and love. I have never felt seen, loved, cared for, and respected like he made me feel that night. ................ Dear readers, I'd like to introduce myself as Eloise Nwabueze, a teenager with a deep-seated passion for achieving perfection in life. My relentless pursuit of correctness encompasses all aspects of my existence, from striving to make the right choices and treating others with kindness to always being in the right place. However, it appears that life has a distinct path in store for me. Within the Nwabueze family, I am the sole daughter, surrounded by three brothers—two elder siblings and one younger. ............... Enrolling in one of the best high schools in the bustling city of Enugu, the eastern part of Nigeria over time became a necessity for me. My Father constantly reminded me of how perfect and brilliant my younger and elder brothers were, and I often felt like I didn't measure up. While my brothers excelled in the sciences, I had a talent for art, which my father considered irrelevant. Life took an unexpected turn when I enrolled in an all-girl high school, St. Mary's Academy. It was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to make new friends and enjoy high school life. Little did I know that my journey through those hallways would be far from the ordinary. My father, Mr Nwabueze, a renowned trader who resides in the Northern part of Nigeria, Kaduna state, has insisted that my primary education in the North be followed up by a secondary education in the East, to ensure that my siblings and I don't forget our roots. I took an entrance exam for St. Mary's Academy in Nsukka, Enugu State, while my brother took his, at St Theresa's High School. .................. Despite being a year ahead of my younger brother in school, my Father made us take the common entrance exam together, he intended to trigger me to excel. This decision caused tension and enmity between my brother and I. The results came out, and I passed while my younger brother didn't. I was thrilled, not just for my success but because it was proof to my father that I was unique and shouldn't be compared to my brothers. Leaving home for a boarding school in the East was a welcome escape from the negativity I had with my dad and my younger brother. .............. As I walked into St. Mary's Academy on my first day, I was met with curious stares and hushed whispers. "who's that girl" I'm sure they must have wondered as my uniquely sewn uniform made me stand out. In my first year at St. Mary's High School, the junior girls would usually wear a stylish ensemble that consisted of a sleek black pinafore paired with a delicate sky-blue shirt. The seniors, on the other hand, gracefully were adorned with a straight skirt and the same sky-blue shirt. However, it was the unique design of my black pinafore that set me apart from the sea of uniforms worn by the other students. The fabric of my pinafore, seemingly ordinary at first glance, unfolded a beautiful narrative with every intricately woven thread. Notably, a subtle detail on the right side of my thigh caught the eye—a minuscule print, noticeable but adding an air of mystery to the ensemble. Under the radiant sunlight, the black pinafore revealed its hidden charm. Ironed onto the fabric were tiny, shimmery stars, creating a celestial spectacle that could only be appreciated when sunlight kissed the surface or under the gentle glow of the night sky. It was my secret celestial display, a personal touch I had envisioned. I told my designer to further use a delicate pink thread to inscribe the words "made with love" onto the fabric. It was a statement close to my heart, a proclamation of the care and thoughtfulness infused into the creation of my distinctive uniform. Adding a final flourish of uniqueness, I had requested the threads on my uniform to diverge from the conventional straight lines. And instead be traversed in a zigzag pattern, creating a playful dance along the seams. ................... St. Mary's High School, though stringent about maintaining uniformity in color and decency, surprisingly embraced individuality when it came to design. My pinafore was a testament to this exception, showcasing a fashion-forward approach that diverged from the norm. My uniform was always carefully chosen, reflecting my love for uniqueness, and I couldn't speak Igbo, the dominant language in the region. This made me appear different from the others, and in the world of high school, different was often met with cruelty. Adapting to the new environment was easy for me because somehow I was good at making new friends. I excelled academically, made friends, and developed a reputation for being pretty smart, outspoken, well-dressed, organized, and proficient in everything. However, this made some students jealous, leading to both envy and gaining lots of enemies. ................. The torment began almost immediately. First, it was my classmate Chika, the girl with a piercing gaze, who cornered me in the hallway one afternoon after prep and sneered, "Eloise, what are you wearing? This is not a fashion show." Her friends laughed, and I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Soon, it wasn't just about my clothing; my inability to speak Igbo became a focal point for ridicule. During lunch, Nneka, one of the popular girls, shouted across the cafeteria, "Eloise, why don't you just go back to where you come from? You don't belong here!" Her words were like a dagger to my heart, and I retreated to a corner, feeling isolated and defeated. Months after in my first grade I fell ill from food poisoning and was away from school for three weeks. Anaisa, a girl from Zimbabwe, who happened to be my then best friend though an overly weird introvert, was the only person who helped in complete my notes, do my assignments and even help me to write my tests in my absence from school. When I returned to school, I was astonished to discover that she was the very instrument fanning the flames of bullying against me. ................... Heartbroken, I confided in my mother through the school call phone anytime we had free time about the relentless bullying, and she would comfort me, saying, "Eloise, never be ashamed of who you are. Your uniqueness is a gift. Stand tall and proud, my dear." my mum's words gave me strength and I kept on enduring it all. In the second grade, bullying by my classmates increased as any little mistake I made brought about hostility. My classmates turned against me, and I felt isolated. My school mother, Charlotte, supported me and helped in her way to reduce the bullying mated on me but it continued, The constant bullying reached its peak in the third grade, I was involved in a fight with Kate but due to the hatred of the class, brought about general beatings which eventually led to me being hospitalized and diagnosed with high blood pressure at a very tender age. While at the hospital, the news got to the ears of my hostel mistress who investigated the matter and spoke to their conscience on the ills of bullying, It was then that my classmates came forward to confess and apologize for their actions, revealing that Anaisa had been the instigator all along ................ After their confession, I was heartbroken and, I decided to confront the bullying head-on. I couldn't let the cruelty of my classmates define me. One day, I stood in front of the entire class and said, "I may not be able to speak Igbo, and I may dress differently, but that doesn't make me any less of a person. Our differences should be celebrated, not used to hurt each other." To my surprise, some of my classmates were moved by my words. Esther, a girl I had never spoken to before, approached me after class and said, "Eloise, you're right. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. Let's be friends." Slowly but surely, things began to change. I made friends who appreciated me for who I was, and some even offered to teach me Igbo. I also started a fashion club where I shared my passion for unique clothing and encouraged others to express themselves. Over time, Chika, the same girl who had taunted me on my first day, approached me in the hallway. She looked apologetic as she said, "Eloise, I'm sorry for what I said. You're brave for standing up to us, and I respect that." ................ I smiled and replied, "Apology accepted, Chika. Let's move forward positively." My high school journey wasn't easy, but it taught me valuable lessons about the power of self-acceptance and the importance of embracing our differences. I may have started as the outsider, but I ended up helping to build a more inclusive and compassionate school community, where being different was celebrated, not ridiculed. As the years went by, St. Mary's Academy became a place where diversity was cherished, and I, Eloise Nwabueze, felt like I truly belonged. The challenges I faced had transformed me into a stronger and more confident person, ready to face whatever the world had in store for me. .............. In sixth grade, I knew I had to forgive my best friend because we would soon leave high school. I tried to convince myself that I had forgiven her but each time I saw her in the bathroom, chapel, or refectory I'd feel so much hurt in my heart. Being that I am also a Christian I knew I was doing the wrong thing by not being forgiving. I called her for a private meeting. We both were sitting in our classroom upstairs, during the evening prep. The evening prep time was the only free time I felt we could talk our hearts out without others hearing us or interrupting. The atmosphere was tense and very quiet. I could feel her heartbeat from where I was sitting. We could not look each other in the face, so we faced the whiteboard instead. I was sitting there with this hurtful expression on my face. I know I had to break the silence because the Anaisa I know wouldn't. She is not so much of an expressive person as I was. Most times I wonder what goes on in that head of her's. How she bottles things up there and says nothing. Her silence can kill me especially since I am the one who called for the meeting. I adjusted my sit Intentionally to make some certain kind of noise so it could draw back her mind. "Anaisa we need to talk about what happened. I can't keep ignoring it, and I think we should address it." Anaisa bows her head looking apologetic, "Eloise, I know I messed up big time, and I am truly sorry for......