Thriller

😱 I GOT MY NEIGHBOUR’S DAUGHTER PREGNANT BECAUSE SHE CALLED ME A SMALL BOY! — JOHN’S STORY (Part1) My name is John, and this is how I got my neighbour’s daughter, Rose, pregnant at just 18 years old. Rose was 22, a little older than me, and she never allowed me to forget it. Because I had a small stature, she always called me a small boy whenever I tried to approach her. We lived in the same compound, a face-me-I-face-you type of building in Nigeria. Rose lived with her parents, and I lived with mine. We even shared the same public bathroom outside the building. Almost every morning, whenever I met her, she would tease me. “John, please go and grow up first. You are still a small boy!” Sometimes, I laughed it off. Other times, it hurt my pride, but I never imagined that one day, things would go too far. At the time, I was learning sales at a shop. One particular Saturday, the sun was extremely hot, so I returned home earlier than usual. When I entered the backyard, I saw Rose cooking. Her mother wasn't home, and my mother had also gone out. “Good afternoon, Rose,” I greeted her. She turned and smiled. “Oh, look who's here! The small boy has returned.” I laughed. “Rose, one day, you will regret calling me that.” She burst into laughter. “Regret what? You? John, please don't make me laugh!” I went inside, picked up my buckets, and prepared to fetch water for my bath. But I couldn't resist teasing her again. “You keep calling me a small boy. What if I prove to you that I'm a man?” Rose looked at me from head to toe and laughed even harder. “Then prove it! Come and show me what you have. Let's see what your small body can do!” Her words hit my pride, and instead of walking away, I continued arguing with her. She even boasted that she had been with men who knew how to satisfy her and that I couldn't possibly compare. I should have ignored her. I should have remembered my age and walked away. But at 18, I thought proving myself was more important than using my head. After more teasing and arguments, we crossed a line that neither of us could take back. I won't lie: at that moment, I felt as though I had finally proved her wrong. When I finished, I took my bath, got dressed, and returned to the shop as if nothing had happened. The following morning, I saw Rose outside. “John!” she called. I turned around. “Yes?” She smiled at me in a way I had never seen before. I pretended not to notice anything unusual and went about my business. Days passed, and I thought the whole incident was over. Then something strange started happening. Rose began running outside to vomit. At first, I didn't pay much attention. But it happened again. And again. Eventually, her mother noticed. “Rose, what is wrong with you? Why do you keep vomiting? Are you hiding something from me?” Rose denied everything. But as more days passed, her mother became increasingly suspicious. One day, after questioning her repeatedly, Rose finally broke down and confessed. “It's John, Mummy. John is responsible.” Her mother was stunned. She immediately contacted Rose's father. And that was when my peaceful life came to an end. It was a Saturday, and I was at home with my family. My father and mother were sitting in the parlour, discussing something, while I stayed in my room. Suddenly, we heard someone banging furiously on our door. “OPEN THIS DOOR!” My father stood up. “Who is that?” Before anyone could properly respond, Rose's father stormed inside, his face filled with anger. “Where is your son?” he demanded. My father looked confused. “Which of my sons are you talking about? I have two boys here.” My heart began beating faster. Rose's father pointed toward the rooms. “Call both of them out!” My father called my elder brother, Benedict, and me. We both came out and stood before our parents. I was already shaking inside because I had a terrible feeling about what was happening.