Our first date was on a Saturday five months ago.
I remember this because I came back from the date with Emmanuel miserable as heck. It was clear I was the rejected one. That never happened before. He rambled on about his ex throughout the date, as though I was not present. A day, which had started on a great note, was ending with me angry and tired. All I wanted to do was sleep. However, sleep seemed to elude me, no matter how hard I tried.
I finally drifted off to sleep as dawn slowly crept up the next morning. It was no surprise to say I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, frustrated and ready to chew someone’s head off. You could bet that “someone” was still Emmanuel. As I lay there wallowing in my murderous thoughts, my phone rang. Speak of the devil! He was calling. I smiled inwardly, forgetting that I was mad at him.
Of course, he was calling to apologize for his behaviour and set up another date. I readily agreed. Emmanuel was my coursemate back at Covenant University, and I had developed a deep long-term crush on him. He was the brightest of us and graduated with a First Class degree, going on to do a Second Degree at Oxford University. I knew then that I had to make the move, and so I did.
We met at another restaurant, which I had chosen, for dinner. It was remarkably better than our first. We talked at length and had some wine and enjoyed the rest of the night. When he dropped me off, I invited him for a nightcap, and I’m sure you know the rest. The next morning, we began dating officially.
Sadly, our love story ended three months after. He said I was repeatedly rude to strangers and his family members. To be fair, I only slapped his mother that one time when she had talked about my lack of home training after a heated episode with her. I guess that was the last straw that broke the camel’s back, and he broke up with me the very next day after this incident happened.
I saw red and started plotting my revenge. He was living his life well with his happy pictures posted on his media accounts while I swam in misery. No. If I was to be miserable, it was only fair that he shared in it.
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I truly loved Emmanuel, and I still cannot believe that he is no more. It was merely a prank to show him the pain I felt when he broke up with me. I didn’t know my rape allegation would be carried far and wide by popular blogs or shared across social media platforms. When he tried calling me, I refused to pick his call. I didn’t even budge when I saw the cryptic message he sent me about not being able to handle the hate spewed against him. I did not.
If only I had! Maybe, I would have been able to stop him from drinking the poison if I had called his family an hour sooner. But nothing could be done to save him. Investigations were conducted and it was proven that it was my defamation that solely led to his suicide.
The alarm went off, bringing me out of my reverie. Lunchtime was over, and I filed in with the rest of the inmates. It was time for me to go back to my cell. I had twelve years to go.
This piece is dedicated to victims (both male and female) of false rape allegations. You deserve justice and your good names back and I pray that it is served. False allegation takes away the power of real victims who deserve justice. Kindly share the link to create awareness on this. Thank you.
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Love,
Diane
