Katrina,

Memories are still fresh in me. Even not a single shred of them has been laid to rest, for they have been lying low under a veneer of my fake sainthood, perhaps in anticipation of future arousal. And this is the right time as inspired in me is only a dark and bottomless despair. Yet each day I wonder how others feel elated, loved and happy.

As if to reassure my sensibilities, as if to reason with myself, I have always been afraid that it really happened- that I entered into you against your will, that I got you impregnated, and that you may somehow demand a mega revenge on me. But true love and guilty combined can dispel fear and bring into being forgiveness. Undying love has the power to do it.

Just to let you know, sitting here on this rock each morning gives me nothing but an enigma which offers no possibility of solution, though I have still hoped to see you one day passing, and ask you for this forgiveness .Yeah! Forgiveness, Katrina. But I hope this letter will just do more than that. Thanks to your friend Pempho who has promised to deliver this letter for me since I don't know where you stay. We just met, remember.

Maybe you don't know, Katrina. The man who sits on the rock by the dusty road to the market is the one begging for your pardon on this shabby piece of paper. Call my scrawls a surprise, but to me I may rather call them a confession because they carry my unending remorse and tears.

Remember that Friday night. I know well that my failure to adapt to the social setup started this all. It was my first time to see you. You looked more beautiful in the miniskirt as you walked home all alone but with a handmade basket. I was too intoxicated that thinking straight became increasingly difficult. Alcohol had reined control over my senses. And I considered proposing love to you a long process. You know that the power of alcohol can propel someone even into a greatest sin on earth.

It happened so fast, so unbelievably fast! Fate shaped its own ideas upon the vain attempt to control myself. The only threat you never saw coming was my hit- and-run plan. The fists and wits of my decent ego finally got chucked. I couldn't stand the feelings that night. I had to rape you, and I did it right away at the bush. I know you didn't enjoy it. Thanks that you didn't shout much and recognise me. I could have been dragged to court and undoubtedly spend much of my life behind bars. You know as well how perplexingly hazardous are the conditions there.

But as you too know, that even in an ocean of mad men there is an island of sanity, I have to be humble as a worm in my confession. I cursed myself the following day at the prospect of realising that I had just messed up with your virginity by force the previous day. I was clean in mind. All the alcohol had been sunk to a record low. Guilt fell over my head with a rhythmic thumping noise like a dying fish on a wharf. I didn't know where to follow you then. Lunatic moments developed deeper in me.

The moment I saw you walking past me one day, I couldn't believe my own eyes. The disbelief sparked off a boring season in my life. I was overpowered by sanity. You still looked more beautiful. I needed you more and more. I must admit, I felt quite weak at your sight.

As I went home, I sat silent in the dark. What an innocent girl you were before I stole your pride! It was almost as if your presence was still growing in strength in my heart, further hurting it. All this brought sleepless nights that I am still trying to elude but all unsuccessfully.

Now, as if worsening my matters, I have learnt from wagging tongues that you are heavily pregnant of the one who raped you that Friday night. I know how painful it is to nurse the unborn whose father is unknown. Katrina, I did it and I have to accept that.

That's why I sit here each day since daylight, hoping to see you passing again. The long hours of a day I spend here have ridiculously distorted me into a living scarecrow. I have recently realised it with self-disgust. Passersby are tired of my sight now. There is always curiosity and displeasure on their faces. Compassion is singularly absent. All this is because of you.

I have it in my mind to make you my wife since you are already expecting my baby. Hope you have known it now. I am running single and I hope this can be a good start for us, although it has not been intended. Heal my wounds Katrina. But forgiveness is what I want from you first, in whatever form it will take. I will still wait for it on this rock.

Now, like the Jamaican athlete, Bolt, I long to be the fastest man on the planet, so that I can masterfully delve into the future and swim in your healing stream, for I know that's the only antidote to defuse the ache of my desperate heart and thwart my slow slide into insanity. However, I have never been entirely sure just which day will pave way to such a therapeutic moment. Your kind-hearted consideration regards.

Katrina my reason, the unease has been with me for too long now. And at this moment, on this rock, more than anything else on earth, I need you. I need to be with you for the rest of my life. I therefore give you my word as I regret the gory act.

You need to consider my words and respond sooner than later. I love you wholeheartedly.

Yours,

Kamtizatiza.