After Our Father Died, My Brother Threw Me Out of the House Because I Refused to Sleep with Him

Some wounds don’t bleed — they burn inside your soul.

When our father died two years ago, my elder brother became the head of the house. I was still in my final year at the university, and since our mother had died long ago, I had no one else but him.

At first, he was caring. He paid my school fees and sent me monthly allowances. I thought we were rebuilding our broken family.

But then it started — the late-night texts, the unnecessary compliments, the way he looked at me when I wore certain clothes.

One evening during ASUU strike, I returned home from a visit to my friend. As soon as I entered the house, he locked the door and said he wanted to “talk seriously.” I sat down.

That was the night my brother told me if I really wanted him to continue sponsoring my education and allow me stay in “his” house, I had to start sleeping with him.

I froze. My blood went cold. I ran into the bathroom and locked myself inside till morning.

The next day, he told me to pack my bags and leave. He said I was “ungrateful.” Just like that, I became homeless.

Till today, nobody in the family believes my story — they say I’m trying to “spoil his name.” But I know my truth. And I’m speaking out for every girl who has faced betrayal inside their own bloodline.