When you are a victim of rape, you see it everywhere. 

The man pissing by the corner. The young man in a tailored suit. Even the hawker on the streets—none is innocent.

This was the cruel fate of my older sister. A yard away from madness.

The night the bandits invaded our homes. They took more than rice and yam. 

A dozen girls lost their innocence. Kambili was one of them. Like flowers nipped in the bud, nothing was the same.

Their spirits never returned. Their laughter was a memory.

So, when she accused my uncle of planning to rape me, no one took it serious.

" You shouldn't go. I'm not crazy. I know what I'm saying," she repeated in private.

His wife overhead us, and intervened, knowing Kambili's history.

“ If it puts your mind at rest, come with us. That way, you can protect her from anyone.”

Soon, we were five years in our uncle's place. Yet, like dark whispering, Kambili was certain of her instincts.

She said it again a night before it happened.

That morning, I was bedridden. My nerves were wrecked, but nothing was more disturbing than the fear of being alone.

" Won't you go to school?" I quizzed, shaking like a leave in the direction of the wind.

" I will not leave you," she droned, matter-of-fact.

I have never been more grateful. I could sense the storm somehow, but her presence brought comfort.

She wrapped her hands around me like a quilt and lulled me to sleep.

But I woke up to a tickling feeling between my thighs.

Startled by my uncle's activity, I retreated to the walls.

That was when she appeared. My sentinel.

" Stay away from her," she slurred and ran to my side.

He turned the keys and dangled it on a finger.

" You better be quiet," he said, approaching us.

I withered behind my sister. Her image terrified me. I could picture what I would become after that day.

But she clasped my hands and hugged me. " Not today," she said. “ Not while I breathe.”

The knob turned, and the door creaked. He was as startled as me. That couldn't be said of the smile on Kambili's face.

"I did say you could protect her from anyone," my aunt's eyes misted before she snapped at her husband.

The police entered and took him. But the image of her apology remained.

" I'm sorry I didn't believe you," my aunt cried on her knees, begging for my sister's forgiveness.

" She is fine...I will be fine," Kambili feigned a smile. 

I didn't realize how much hurt she endured to keep me safe. But I would learn my uncle raped her every time his wife was away. 

No one believed her until they saw it. 

She was too broken to be right and my uncle was too holy to do wrong. They were both broken in their own ways. But she had flowers all over her pieces.