As I sat there reading the new post from BJ, my boyfriend’s cousin, I realized I was actually reading a suicide note. I called her number, it was switched off, then I called my boyfriend Ahmed, her cousin and I knew she was gone, he picked up the phone, sobbing, “she’s gone, BJ is gone…..”There was dead silence, then he said “I’ll call you back” and dropped the phone. My mouth was ajar as I went back to the post from BJ that had just popped on my screen, it reads thus:
“Dear lovely friends, as you read this I most likely will be with my maker if I got it right. I thought it was time I go see him. At least now I can have the rest we are promised in church when we die and go to heaven, I should think I will go to heaven, I was nice enough, everybody loved me complimented me, My pictures got more loves than likes, hundreds commented on how beautiful and how lucky I was. I had thousands of followers as some people followed me every single minute of every single day. As soon as my pictures or videos hit my Facebook page or Instagram, it went viral.
I remember the day I posted my swimsuit pictures within an hour I got 12000 loves, 11000 likes and 14 marriage proposals. It was so great in the end, I had a total of 58,000 loves and likes combined. I felt on top of the world.
I never wanted to put my phone down, but I just had to and that’s when the problems began, I needed their comments and loves to make me feel worthy.
What about my parents you may ask? Well, where do I start? Daddy dearest is an investment banker, I get to see him only during the weekends. Before I wake up on Saturday he’s off to play golf, gets back around 1 pm, has a shower and he’s off to the club yet again, by the time he gets back, I am already in bed, he pops his head through the door to say Goodnight, if I am still awake.
On Sundays, we manage to go to church together if he is around, then he stays behind in church for one elder’s meeting or the other, the driver has to take me home while my mum has sisters or women of substance, meet.
My darling mum is a businesswoman, a contractor and a consultant. She tried her best and got me the best au pair Nanny money could get. She is French, a nice woman who has worked with various American movie stars. She practically raised me, took me to France with her on holiday because my parents couldn’t stay with me when she had her leave, so she was asked to take me along. I could speak French and Italian, cook and clean, all taught by my French nanny Emmanuella.
Don’t get me wrong, my parents tried, they put me in the best schools, we lived in a very big house, I had my room, study, we had a pool and home theatre in the house. But so many things were missing.
For one, my parents erroneously felt money and material things could make up for their love, affection, attention, discipline, and upbringing. I had all that money could buy. A car at 16, a block of 6 luxury flats built-in my name. Clothes from the best designers in the world, Shoes from Ferragamo. Bags from Gucci to Ralph Lauren, over 300,000 dollars in my savings account, but I would have given all that up for my parents to spend some quality time with their only child.
As far back as I can remember, when I go up to my mum to ask for advice, she would smile, touch my face affectionately and say,” can’t you see am busy my heart, or I’m on my way out, my heart’, go ask Emmuanella to help you. That was the same line I got from my dad, “You know I am a man, speak to Emmanuella she will help you”.
I didn’t need Emmanuella, I had too many people willing to tell me on Facebook and Instagram, one of them was CHIKE. I met Chike on Instagram, he loved my picture and made a very sweet remark, the sweetest of all. Before long, he sent me his telephone number on Facebook and we got talking on WhatsApp. He was good-looking, handsome and funny. We would chat for hours. Even when I was in school, I was busy chatting with Chike instead of studying.
Our lives were similar, he claimed, he was an only child and felt we could keep each other company. He asked me where I lived. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him, so I went to ask my dad, but that day he was on his way to meet his friends at the club, he asked me to ask my mum. She was on her way to a friends party, she asked me to ask Emmanuella, who then said since I had no friends it would be nice to have one come over, so I asked him over. I lied to Emmanuella that it was a girl.
Emmanuella stayed in the guest chalet and before she left at 9 pm she asked if my friend and I would be okay? I said yes, I had asked Chike to come around 9.30 pm, cos I knew since I turned 16, Emmanuella retired early, saying I was a big girl now and she didn’t need to watch me go to bed. She believed I was responsible enough so off she went.
At 9.30, Chike arrived, the first thing that was wrong, he was older than his picture, he looked 16 just like me, when he arrived he was like 20 something. He made an excuse that the picture was taken when he was younger. He came in, we sat in the living room and ate the dinner I had reserved for him. After dinner, he asked if we had wine, I said yes, but I had never drunk before, he said not to worry, I will get used to it. That evening, I tasted my first wine, not a lot though. Chike kissed me, at first I was reluctant, then he kissed me again, touched my bossom, and it felt good, so I kissed him some more, just when I was getting into it he said he had to leave before my parents got back. I didn’t want him to, I begged him to stay, but he left anyway.
That night I relived the kiss and the caressing over and over, I felt butterflies in my belly, I hadn’t felt them before. What was happening to me? I took to my Facebook page and asked what it meant when someone had butterflies in their tummy after a kiss. So many responses came in, most said it was love. So I asked what happens between a man and a woman when they are in love and I got loads of responses, most said Making love was the next step.
Making love? I was 16, will turn 17 in a month, I had never made love. I knew about it, but all my love was on Instagram and Facebook, never with a physical being.
The next week Chike didn’t pick my calls nor did he call me back, I was aching all over, my heart hurt so much. No one to talk to about this, then I got a message from one of my fans asking why they hadn’t heard from me for a while. So I forgot Chike and went back to posting pictures and my videos, tried so hard to forget Chike. Three weeks later, I got a call from Chike, he was so apologetic, claimed his phone got lost and he had to retrieve his number and that’s when he got back my phone number, he asked me to meet him at home the next day which was a Friday.
That day, the driver dropped me at the school gate, I watched him leave, then I called the school office, pretended to be my mum and left a message saying, I was ill and wouldn’t be in school until Monday. That sorted, I walked down the block to a hotel and got a car hire to take me to Chike’s address.
The address was in a part of town I had never been before, most of my travels, centred on the island, school, home, cinemas, and shops all with Emmanuella or the driver. Recently my cousin Ahmed had come to town for youth service, so he would pick me to the cinema once or twice a month.
When we finally arrived at Chike’s house about an hour later, I got down from the taxi and called Chike, he told me to wait and in 3 minutes he came out of the house opposite where I was standing. Invited me in. it was not the sort of place I was used to, but I needed this to work out and more importantly, I needed Chike to like me, so I smiled a lot and nodded my head, so I won’t look too nervous.
Once inside, he served me fried rice with chicken and a box of pineapple juice. That was the last thing I remembered until I woke up in a taxi that evening driving me back home. When I ask how I got in the Taxi, the driver said my brother had hired him to take me back home on the island. At that time, I had a terrible headache and my under hurt so much. I sat there tears rolling down my eyes, trying to recollect what went on in the house but I couldn’t.
I got home just as the driver was reporting to Emmanuella he didn’t see me in school when he came to pick me up. I told her a friend had dropped me. I went straight up to my room. My under was bleeding and I saw scratches all over my body, my arms and legs ached so much. My tummy was rumbling. Just then I vomited violently on my bedroom floor. Emmanuella came in and ran a bath, she thought I just had a fever, she made me a lemon and honey tea and out chamomile in the bath water and asked me to sit in it.
I was in there for more than an hour, when I came out the bleeding had stopped and I felt better. I put on my PJ’s and laid on the bed. I must have fallen asleep when I woke up around 5 am, I had so many messages from an unknown no on my WhatsApp. I opened the pictures and I passed out.
When I woke up a few minutes later, I went back to my WhatsApp and scrolled through, picture after picture a different guy was on top of me, defiling me, I counted 6, the last picture was a video and it showed all of them forcefully making love to me. Then a message said pay 2 million into this account or this pictures and videos will show up on your Facebook and Instagram page. I screamed, pulled out my bank token and transferred immediately.
I had 10 million in my account which I inherited from my paternal grandfather when he died, every week the same message will come in asking for money and I transferred, lived in fear they might post it, I was so depressed and sad, my mum thought it was just teenage matters, my dad asked me to snap out of it, Emmanuella was worried but I couldn’t tell her, it was too shameful, if the pictures ever got out, it would ruin me I thought.
After I had exhausted every penny in my account, I got another message asking for 5 million this time, I explained, I had to ask my father and he would want to know what I needed it for. He was out of the country, they would give me a week. They refused and said I should watch out for it in 2 days on my page.
Well, I guess I couldn’t wait to see it, I didn’t want to be alive to see all my fans call me names, hate me and read all those comments about me and God knows what else would be said. Who’s going to believe my side of the story. How could they see me this way? , so the best way is to take my life in my own hands.
Am sorry, don’t be mad at me, Mum, Dad, I love you, but it seemed like I was an inconvenience right from the get-go, you didn’t really plan to have me disrupt your lives, so I better get a stepping back to where I came from. I couldn’t let you see me the way Chike portrayed me, I love you and I can’t wait for us to be together all the time. I’ll wait for you patiently with God Almighty and find the peace, comfort, and joy I’ve always craved.
Your lovely daughter
‘My heart’, as you both fondly called me. “
I couldn’t believe it, she was the best, I loved her, I could even say I was jealous, she got all the attention, love and admiration I craved. I used to imagine myself in her shoes, with fantastically rich parents, all that money, a BMW car, designer clothes and the latest phones. She posted pictures of her travels all around the world with her French nanny. Her videos and pictures gave us all something new and exciting to look forward to every day. And now it’s all over, just like that, I still cannot believe it, it is like a dream, is this how it all ends?? She had written the post a week ago, it had one of those time delay sets on it, you could write today and set a date next week when the post should go live, she had done just that. Announcing her end to the world just as she did when she was Alive? BJ my Hero, we will miss you, you left us too soon, may your beautiful soul rest in perfect peace.