THE SNAKE THAT DRANK MY BLOOD

CONFESSION: THE SNAKE THAT DRANK MY BLOOD

My name is not important. I am from Limpopo but now I live in Durban. I have carried a heavy secret for many years. Today I want to confess because it is eating me alive.

When I was young, I thought beauty was enough to carry me through life. I grew up with nothing. My mother was a domestic worker, my father was never around. Some nights we went to bed hungry. I hated poverty so much that I told myself one day I would escape it, no matter the cost.

When I reached my early twenties, I discovered the lifestyle of slay queens. I had friends who lived it. They taught me how to dress, how to do my hair and nails, how to walk into a club like you owned the world, even when your rent money was short. We went to the clubs every weekend, not for music, not for fun, but for fishing. Fishing for men with money.

Sometimes we came home empty-handed. Sometimes we caught men who were fake, stingy, or married. But we kept going. I told myself, “One day, I will catch a big fish. A man who will rescue me from poverty forever.”

And then it happened.

The night I met him, the club was packed. Lights were flashing, the DJ was loud, girls were laughing. I was sitting with my friends when he walked in. The whole room changed. He walked like he owned the place. Tall, dark, with expensive clothes that looked fresh from the boutique. A thick gold chain sat on his neck, his watch sparkled under the lights, and his shoes shined like mirrors.

Girls whispered, pointing at him. But his eyes landed on me.

He walked straight to me and bought me a drink. His confidence was different. He didn’t waste time with silly questions like other men. Instead, he looked into my eyes and asked, “Do you have a child?”

I said no.

“Have you ever been pregnant?” he asked.

Again, I said no.

He smiled wide, like I had just passed some kind of test. That same night, he asked me to move in with him. That very night.

I should have been shocked, but instead I felt like I had finally won. My friends were jealous. I was proud. I told myself this was the jackpot I had been praying for.

His house was like a palace. High walls, electric fences, security cameras. Inside, the furniture was expensive, and the smell of money was everywhere. I had never seen a place so beautiful.

At first, he treated me like a queen. He gave me everything I wanted — money, clothes, shoes, even a small car. I thought my life had finally changed.

But soon, I noticed something strange. Every time I was on my periods, he became extra sweet. He would pamper me, cook for me, rub my back, even run my bath water. He wouldn’t let me lift a finger. I thought, “This is real love.”

But after my periods ended, he went back to being cold and distant. It became a pattern. Sweet when I was bleeding, cold when I was not.

I ignored the signs. I told myself I was lucky. But deep down, my spirit felt something was wrong.

One night, it happened. I had just come from the bathroom but forgot my phone there. When I went back to fetch it, I found him holding my used pad. In his hand was a black plastic.

My heart dropped.

He saw me. His face did not look guilty. Instead, he smiled, but it was not a normal smile. His eyes were sharp, hungry. He said, “Don’t worry. I’m taking care of you.”

I froze. I couldn’t ask questions. I just nodded and walked away.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Around midnight, I pretended to be asleep when he quietly left the bed. I followed him.

He went into a room at the back of the house. That room was always locked. I had never been allowed inside. But this time, he left the door slightly open. I peeped through the gap.

What I saw will haunt me until the day I die.

There was a snake inside. Huge, black, shiny, as thick as a tree trunk. Its eyes glowed red like burning coals. In front of it was a clay pot. My man dropped my pad into the pot. The snake lifted its head, hissed, and swallowed.

My knees almost gave out. I realised the snake was drinking my blood every month through those pads. That was the secret behind his wealth.

I ran back to bed and pretended to sleep. My body was shaking. I couldn’t believe the life I had entered.

After that, I wanted to leave. But I couldn’t. He controlled everything. He took my phone during the day. He didn’t allow me to work. He gave me money but kept me dependent. He said he loved me, but I knew he owned me.

That’s when the nightmares began. Every night, I dreamed of the snake. Sometimes it wrapped around my body, sometimes it hissed in my ears. I would wake up with heavy legs, like something had been crawling on me.

My health also began to change. I felt weak during my periods, weaker than normal. My skin lost its glow, my eyes sank. But he looked happier and richer than ever.

One day, when he was away, I heard voices in the street. Neighbours whispering. I overheard them saying, “She doesn’t know she’s not the first one. There were other girls before her.”

My blood ran cold.

That night, I checked his wardrobe. Hidden under old clothes, I found a box. Inside were pictures of other girls. Some looked young, some older. On the back of one picture, there was writing in his handwriting: “She stopped bleeding.”

I realised what it meant. When a woman stopped menstruating, she was useless to him. And maybe… maybe she disappeared.

Fear consumed me. I started planning to escape. But each time I tried, something happened. My car wouldn’t start. My phone had no signal. Once, the gates wouldn’t open. It felt like the house itself was holding me prisoner.

But one night, when he left on a business trip, I ran. I packed a small bag, climbed over the back wall, and never looked back.

I thought I was free. But the curse followed me.

The dreams continued. The hissing in my ears grew louder. Sometimes, when I’m alone, I feel like something is watching me. Once, I woke up and found a dead snake at my doorstep. I don’t know who put it there.

Even today, I sometimes see shadowy snakes in the corners of my room. I hear soft hissing when no one is near. I feel a cold wind wrap around me, and I know it is him — or the spirit of that snake — reminding me of what happened.

I also discovered more about the girls before me. Some had vanished. Some left towns far away, their families never knowing what happened. He moves from province to province, taking what he needs. Money, luck, life. And the snake feeds on their blood, their youth, their soul.

I am alive, but I am broken. My body survived, but my spirit is scared, haunted, restless. I cannot trust men easily. I cannot live freely.

That is why I confess. I want other young women to learn from me. Do not be fooled by rich men in clubs. Sometimes the price of their wealth is your blood, your soul, your life.

I thought I had won when I met him. But in truth, I lost everything.

Even now, I sleep with one eye open. Even now, I check under my bed before I close my eyes. Even now, I whisper prayers every night, hoping the curse will not follow me forever.

I survived. But I carry the snake with me, in my dreams, in my fear, in my blood.

And if you think this is a story, think again. It is my life. My warning. My confession.