Pastor Olumodeji just took advantage of me. I would have called it rape but I never resisted him. Was he here to discuss Stella’s case or he came here to have his way with me? How did this happen? It was too sudden to believe. How can my senior pastor have carnal knowledge of me right on my bed?
Mercy what happened to you? I couldn’t explain what just happened to me. I felt empty and guilty. I was lost in deep thought when he sneaked out of my apartment. When I realized he was not in the room I wept bitterly. I had wanted to commit suicide but suicide was not as easy as many think. I hated myself and pastor Olumodeji. Right there I made up my mind I won’t attend our church again. I will resign my role as the choir leader and quit every relationship with members of the church. This is an abomination of the highest order. I had condemned many ladies who fell for pastors, and here am I in the same net of illicit affair with my own pastor.
I couldn’t go for my planned retreat again because of what just happened between me and pastor Olumodeji. I saw myself as a lamb at the altar of pastor Olumodeji. For a whole week, I didn’t eat anything nor did I go out. My colleagues in the office called me until my phone battery ran down. No one knew my house in my office, so none of them checked on me. My choir members were trooping into my house thinking I was sick. I became tired of the visitation so I left my house and went and hid myself in Faith’s house. Faith lives with her parents but she has a room to herself and her parents know me too well. I had passed the night twice in their house before.
The day I returned back to my house, I noticed my house had been so dusty for the period I was away. I pulled off my clothes and put on a bum short and sleeveless top to enable me tidy up my room. As I stretched my hand to the back of my door to pick my broom, I heard a knock on my door. Who is that? I queried. Before I could go for the door, he had entered my room.. Guess who? Pastor Olumodeji again.
What are you doing here again Deji? I wasn’t afraid to call him by his name because he has traded his respect with a round of sex. Deji is 15 years older than me and we call him daddy but God forbid that I should call a man who sexually abused me daddy. I am sorry for what happened that day, it was the work of the devil, he began to beg. I have forgiven you. Please you have to leave now, I don’t want a repeat of what happened that day again. Leave before you use your charm on me again. I tried pushing him away showing him the door, but he was reluctant. I told myself it won’t happen today like it happened the other day so I pushed him harder towards the door. I am still your pastor sister Mercy, he reminded me in a gentle way. Immediately he said that I remembered the sermon our G.O preached during the workers’ conference two years ago titled; “Touch Not My Anointed”. So I stopped pushing him. Sir you have to go, I don’t want you here anymore. Please go! Please go!! Please go!!! I will go if only you can tell me where Stella is, he gave me this condition and leaned on my door blocking the door.
I don’t know her whereabout and you must believe me. If I knew her whereabout I would have revealed it to you so you can let me be. As he stood there, tears rolled down his cheeks.
How can my pastor be crying in front of me? I felt very bad and I joined him in shedding tears. I wish I knew where Stella was, I would have told him. As he was trying to wipe away his tears, I felt pity for him. He tried to hide his tears but they dropped uncontrollably. I picked my handkerchief from my bag and stretched it towards him. He took the handkerchief from me and held my hand, I am sorry for what happened that day, he begged. I stopped being rude to him after I remembered the sermon of our G.O. He held me and stylishly moved his hands towards my shoulder and to my armpit and before I could struggle to detach myself from his grip, he had turned my back to the bed again. Please sir don’t do it to me again, I begged him but all my plea fell on deaf ears.
He did it again!
A Story By Ayodele Adeoye