Every week, Zikoko spotlights the unfiltered stories of women navigating life, love, identity and everything in between.
What She Said will give women the mic to speak freely, honestly and openly, without shame about sex, politics, family, survival, and everything else life throws our way.
This week on What She Said, we speak with Grace*, a 22-year-old woman who has been carrying a devastating secret for over four years. One so heavy it drove her to attempt suicide when she was just seventeen. Now, she’s ready to break her silence in hopes of finally letting go of what’s been “eating her up.”
Trigger Warning: Sexual assault, suicide attempts, and mental health struggles.
Let’s go back to the beginning. Can you take me back to December 31st, 2020? What led up to that moment for you?
That day changed everything. I was just seventeen, and honestly, I was one of those teenagers who had it okay. My parents weren’t rich-rich, but we were comfortable. My dad had his business, my mum worked, and we lived in a decent 4-bedroom house. I was doing well in school, had friends, and my biggest worry was probably what to wear to crossover service that night.
My older sister had asked me to pick up some notes from her friend’s place. She needed them for ministration during our church’s New Year service. It was such a simple errand. I remember thinking I’d be back in time to help her cook before we all went to church together.
Tell me about this person your sister sent you to. How long had you known him?
Jayson* had been my maths tutor for two years. He was in his early twenties, and honestly, the whole family loved him. He’d come to our house three times a week to help me with maths when I was in SS2 and SS3. Sometimes he’d stay till 10 pm, chatting with my parents about everything from politics, football, and his own family struggles. My mum would insist he eat before leaving.
He was one of those guys who seemed to have something they were working towards. Intelligent, respectful, and always greeting everyone with proper courtesy. My younger brothers looked up to him. I trusted him completely, like an older brother.
So when your sister couldn’t go that day, sending you felt natural.
Exactly. She’d spent the morning at the market buying rice, chicken, and all the things we needed for the New Year celebration. She was exhausted and needed to start cooking.
Walk me through what happened when you got to his place.
I got there around 4 pm. Jayson was always generous with his laptop. He knew I loved watching movies on it. When I arrived, he said he needed to get something from his room, then we’d head back to my house together.
He told me to use the laptop while waiting. I sat in the parlour with his younger sister, who was actually my classmate. We were watching a Nollywood film, laughing and talking. Then at some point, I looked up and she was gone. That should have been my first warning.
I asked Jayson where she went. He didn’t answer. Instead, he just stood there staring at me with this look I’d never seen before. When I asked why he was looking at me like that, he walked over and took the laptop away. That’s when I knew something was very wrong.
What happened next?
I tried to leave immediately. But when I got to the door, it was locked. I turned around, confused, my heart pounding, and that’s when he said the words that still haunt me: “Since I couldn’t have your sister, I’ll have you.”
My sister? I had no idea what he meant. Had he been watching her? Wanting her? The betrayal hit me even before the physical attack began.
I fought him. I fought so hard. But he was bigger, stronger. I remember the sound of my own voice screaming, begging him to stop. I remember the taste of blood in my mouth from where he hit me. My face was swollen, my eye was bloodshot, and when it was over, I could barely stand.
I am so sorry. No one should ever experience that. I need to ask this directly: Did he rape you?
Yes. He raped me.
After it was over, I just lay there on his parlour floor, completely worn; physically, emotionally, in any and every way you can imagine. I wanted to die right there. But somehow, thinking about my parents, about how they’d be waiting for me to come home so we could go to church together, gave me the strength to get up.
Before I left, he warned me never to tell anyone if I wanted to live. But honestly, the threat wasn’t what kept me quiet. I was thinking about my family. How do you tell your parents that the man they welcomed into their home, the man they paid to teach their daughter, had destroyed her?
What She Said: I Grew Up Hating My Mother
What were your next steps? How did you get home?
I left his house around 7 or 8 pm, staggering with every step. I was crying so hard I could barely see. I kept thinking about how my sister would be waiting for those notes, how my parents would be asking where I’d been, how I was supposed to sit in church that night and pretend to celebrate a new year.
I wasn’t even paying attention to the road. The next thing I knew, people were screaming. A car had hit me on one side, a bike on the other. I flew across the road and everything went black.
What?! Ho- ?!
I swear. Hm. I couldn’t believe it was real either. Lol. The world can be very sick.
There are no words. How are you here now? What happened?
I woke up in a hospital to my parents crying beside my bed. My mouth was wired shut. I’d lost four teeth. My body was covered in bandages. Everyone kept saying it was a miracle I was alive.
The doctors told my parents I’d been hit while crossing the road carelessly because that was what everyone at the scene said. Everyone accepted that story. Here I was, this straight-A student who’d somehow been careless enough to walk into traffic on New Year’s Eve. My parents felt guilty, like they should have driven me to get those notes instead of letting me walk.
I never corrected them.
How long were you at the hospital? What was that like for you mentally?
Two months. It was pure hell. I’d close my eyes and see his face. I’d feel his hands on me. But everyone around me was talking about how blessed I was to survive, how God had saved me for a purpose.
When you finally went home, how did things change with your family?
I became a completely different person. Before December 31st, I was the sweet, obedient daughter. After I came home, I was angry all the time. Especially with the men in my house.
I’d look at my dad and think, “You’re a man too. Are you capable of what Jayson did?” I’d snap at my brothers for the smallest things. I couldn’t bear to be in the same room as them sometimes.
My family didn’t understand. They thought the accident had somehow changed my personality. My brothers started avoiding me, saying I’d become mean. Even my parents were confused.
That isolation must have made everything worse.
It was like drowning slowly. I was surrounded by people who loved me, but I felt completely alone. I couldn’t tell them why I was angry, why I flinched when men got too close, why I’d have panic attacks in the middle of family dinners.
My mum would sometimes say things like, “Grace, you’re not the same person since the accident. What happened to my sweet daughter?”
I descended more and more into a deep depressive state.
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It’s too much for one person to carry.
About a month after I came home, I started having suicidal thoughts. I was looking at myself in the mirror one morning, my missing teeth, the scars on my face from the accident, and the beating. I finally acknowledged a thought that had been in my head since I opened my eyes in that hospital, “Maybe it’s okay if I go. This life doesn’t really feel worth it.”
I started thinking about different ways to end it. I googled what would be painless. I wrote letters to my family explaining that it wasn’t their fault. But something always stopped me at the last minute.
Can you walk me through what happened the night you actually attempted?
I’d had a particularly bad day: nightmares the night before, panic attacks during dinner. My mum was frustrated with my attitude, and she said something about how I was causing everyone pain with my behaviour.
She was right, and hearing it out loud broke something in me. I went to my room and thought, “Why am I doing this to them? Why am I making everyone miserable?” I convinced myself that my family would be better off without me.
We had a bottle of Hypo in the bathroom. I went there around midnight, locked the door, and drank about half of it. The burning in my throat was immediate and excruciating.
My goodness. How did you survive that?
I think my dad heard me choking. He broke down the bathroom door and saw me on the floor with the bottle. He was screaming my name, asking what I’d done. He stuck his fingers down my throat, making me vomit everything I could. Then he ran to get palm oil from the kitchen and forced me to drink almost a whole bottle to neutralise what was left.
My mum was crying, asking why I would do such a thing. My dad kept saying I was possessed, that we needed to take me for deliverance. Even in that moment, they couldn’t imagine that their daughter was simply broken.
Did you try again after that?
Twice. Once with pills I stole from my mum’s medicine box, another time I tried to hang myself with a bedsheet. Both times, something stopped me; either someone came home early or I changed my mind at the last second.
My parents started watching me constantly. They took me to church for special prayers, thinking it was a spiritual problem. The pastor would lay hands on me and cast out demons while I sat there knowing the real demon was walking free in our neighbourhood.
Wow. You have been through a lot. I am sorry. You mentioned earlier that you’ve been able to reunite with your dad and brothers. What changed?
Time, mostly. And a change of environment. I considered therapy, but I do not think I will be comfortable sharing this story again. I did find a counsellor about a year ago who helped me understand that what happened to me wasn’t my fault. That my anger at men wasn’t evil or wrong, it was a normal response to trauma.
I started opening up to my dad slowly. Not about what happened, I still haven’t told him the full truth, but about feeling different since the accident, about struggling with depression. He’s been trying to understand instead of just dismissing it as an attitude.
My brothers and I talk more now. They’re older, too, more mature. But I still can’t fully relax around men outside my family.
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After four years of keeping this secret, what made you decide to share it now?
I’m tired of carrying it alone. Four years of nightmares, four years of panic attacks, four years of my family thinking I’m just difficult when I’m actually traumatised.
I want other girls to know that if something like this happens to them, they don’t have to protect anyone else’s feelings. They don’t have to carry the shame that belongs to their attacker. I protected Jayson and my family’s peace at the cost of my own sanity, and I almost died because of it.
How do you feel right now, having told this story?
Lighter, honestly. Like I can finally breathe properly. I’ve been holding my breath for four years, and now I can exhale.
What does healing look like for you these days?
It’s slow. Some days are better than others. I still have nightmares, but not every night. I can be in the same room as my male cousins without feeling panicked. I’m even considering dating eventually, though that still feels scary.
Mostly, I’m learning to stop blaming myself. I was seventeen, I trusted someone my family trusted, and what happened to me was not my fault.
If there’s a young woman reading this who’s carrying a secret like yours, what would you want her to know?
Don’t protect your attacker. Don’t carry shame that isn’t yours. Your family might be disappointed or angry, or confused at first, but they’ll adjust. Living with this secret alone will kill you slowly. I almost let it.
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If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide or mental health challenges, please reach out for help:
- SURPIN Helpline Nigeria: 24-hour hotline providing counselling, support, and referral services to individuals facing depression, anxiety, substance abuse, or suicidal thoughts. Counsellors speak Hausa, Igbo, and Yoruba. Call 09080217555, 09034400009
- Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI): 24/7 free and confidential support. Call 08091116264
- She Writes Woman Crisis Centre: Support for survivors of sexual and gender-based violence. Call 08008002000
- NDIDI Mental Health Clinic: A private mental health care practice committed to providing accessible, high-quality mental healthcare in Nigeria. Call 07063238701
Remember: You are not alone, and your life has value.
*Names have been changed to protect the subject’s privacy.
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