1💋I WAS KNACK WHILE SLEEPING BY MY NEIGHBOR 😱🔥
Episode 1
My name is Cynthia Bassey, 300-level Biochemistry, University of Calabar.
I never liked noise. I never liked plenty friends. I just wanted to face my books, graduate with first class, and leave Calabar quiet quiet.
That was why I rented the small self-contained off-campus at No. 17 Atimbo Road.
The compound had twelve rooms. Ten boys. Two girls—including me.
From day one, the boys dey look me like fresh bread.
I no send.
I lock my door by 9 p.m., read till 12, sleep by 1 a.m. sharp.
My room was at the back, last flat on the corridor. Quiet. Private.
Or so I thought.
It started small.
I began waking up with strange feelings.
My nightgown would be twisted.
My wrapper would be on the floor.
My body would feel… used.
Heavy. Tired. Like someone had been pressing me all night.
But I was alone.
Door locked.
Windows bolted.
I told myself na dream.
Or malaria.
Or too much reading.
But the feelings kept coming.
Every morning I would wake up sore between my legs.
Like someone had knack me hard while I was deep asleep.
I started checking my body in the mirror.
Small bruises on my thighs.
Red marks on my breasts.
Finger prints on my waist.
My pant would be wet… but not from me.
I began to fear my own room.
One night, I pretended to sleep early.
I left the light off but kept my eyes half open.
I waited.
Nothing.
I dozed off.
When I woke at 3 a.m., my nightgown was pushed up to my neck.
My legs were open.
And there was that same heavy feeling inside me.
Like someone had just finished and left.
I jumped up, ran to the door.
Locked.
Windows still bolted.
No sign of break-in.
But my body knew the truth.
Somebody had knack me again while I was sleeping.
And the person had a key.
Or knew how to open my lock without noise.
The compound boys were twelve.
Twelve suspects.
One of them was coming in the night.
Touching me.
Using me.
Leaving before I fully woke.
I stopped sleeping well.
I started putting chair under the door handle.
I bought extra padlock.
But every morning, the chair was moved.
The padlock was open.
And my body carried fresh evidence.
I had been knack again.
I told my only friend, Blessing.
She laughed at first.
“Cynthia, you dey dream sweet dream o.”
When I showed her the bruises, she stopped laughing.
“This one no be dream. Na person dey enter your room.”
We started watching.
We stayed awake together one night.
Nothing.
The next night I slept alone.
Morning came.
Same thing.
Bruises.
Soreness.
Wetness.
I went to the landlord.
He laughed.
“Small girl, you dey watch too much film. No be ghost dey knack you.”
I went to the police.
They asked for evidence.
What evidence?
No forced entry.
No witness.
Only my body carrying marks nobody could explain.
The compound boys started noticing my red eyes..
Some smiled small when they saw me.
Some greeted me too sweetly.
One even asked, “Cynthia, you no dey sleep well again?”
I began to suspect everybody.
The medical student in Room 1.
The yahoo boy in Room 5.
The footballer in Room 8.
Even the quiet church boy in Room 12.
One of them was coming in the night.
One of them was knack me while I slept.
And enjoying it.
The fear started eating me.
I stopped eating.
I lost weight.
I stopped going to class.
Because every night, I knew he would come again.
And I didn’t know how to stop him.
Because I didn’t even know who he was.
Yet.
Comment ‘Next’ for Episode 2.
Let’s get this story to 40 shares!
To be continued…
Follow Vicky's Stories for more interesting stories
Episode 1
My name is Cynthia Bassey, 300-level Biochemistry, University of Calabar.
I never liked noise. I never liked plenty friends. I just wanted to face my books, graduate with first class, and leave Calabar quiet quiet.
That was why I rented the small self-contained off-campus at No. 17 Atimbo Road.
The compound had twelve rooms. Ten boys. Two girls—including me.
From day one, the boys dey look me like fresh bread.
I no send.
I lock my door by 9 p.m., read till 12, sleep by 1 a.m. sharp.
My room was at the back, last flat on the corridor. Quiet. Private.
Or so I thought.
It started small.
I began waking up with strange feelings.
My nightgown would be twisted.
My wrapper would be on the floor.
My body would feel… used.
Heavy. Tired. Like someone had been pressing me all night.
But I was alone.
Door locked.
Windows bolted.
I told myself na dream.
Or malaria.
Or too much reading.
But the feelings kept coming.
Every morning I would wake up sore between my legs.
Like someone had knack me hard while I was deep asleep.
I started checking my body in the mirror.
Small bruises on my thighs.
Red marks on my breasts.
Finger prints on my waist.
My pant would be wet… but not from me.
I began to fear my own room.
One night, I pretended to sleep early.
I left the light off but kept my eyes half open.
I waited.
Nothing.
I dozed off.
When I woke at 3 a.m., my nightgown was pushed up to my neck.
My legs were open.
And there was that same heavy feeling inside me.
Like someone had just finished and left.
I jumped up, ran to the door.
Locked.
Windows still bolted.
No sign of break-in.
But my body knew the truth.
Somebody had knack me again while I was sleeping.
And the person had a key.
Or knew how to open my lock without noise.
The compound boys were twelve.
Twelve suspects.
One of them was coming in the night.
Touching me.
Using me.
Leaving before I fully woke.
I stopped sleeping well.
I started putting chair under the door handle.
I bought extra padlock.
But every morning, the chair was moved.
The padlock was open.
And my body carried fresh evidence.
I had been knack again.
I told my only friend, Blessing.
She laughed at first.
“Cynthia, you dey dream sweet dream o.”
When I showed her the bruises, she stopped laughing.
“This one no be dream. Na person dey enter your room.”
We started watching.
We stayed awake together one night.
Nothing.
The next night I slept alone.
Morning came.
Same thing.
Bruises.
Soreness.
Wetness.
I went to the landlord.
He laughed.
“Small girl, you dey watch too much film. No be ghost dey knack you.”
I went to the police.
They asked for evidence.
What evidence?
No forced entry.
No witness.
Only my body carrying marks nobody could explain.
The compound boys started noticing my red eyes..
Some smiled small when they saw me.
Some greeted me too sweetly.
One even asked, “Cynthia, you no dey sleep well again?”
I began to suspect everybody.
The medical student in Room 1.
The yahoo boy in Room 5.
The footballer in Room 8.
Even the quiet church boy in Room 12.
One of them was coming in the night.
One of them was knack me while I slept.
And enjoying it.
The fear started eating me.
I stopped eating.
I lost weight.
I stopped going to class.
Because every night, I knew he would come again.
And I didn’t know how to stop him.
Because I didn’t even know who he was.
Yet.
Comment ‘Next’ for Episode 2.
Let’s get this story to 40 shares!
To be continued…
Follow Vicky's Stories for more interesting stories
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