It wasn't the piercing slap on her face nor the hard kick on her stomach. It wasn't the sight of her blood on the floor nor the taste of blood in her mouth. It was the pain in her chest, the crack in her heart, the lump in her throat and the weakness in her legs that made her tremble in anguish. The look on his face made her recoil. He hit her and all she could do was wimp in pain. She couldn't scream for fear of waking the sleeping children. She couldn't run because there was nowhere to run to. She couldn't beg because it made him angrier. So she cried silently.
When he gave her the hardest blow ever on her left breast which was filled with breast milk. The pain was unbearable and a big scream escaped her mouth as she collapsed on the floor. Then he stopped 'Useless goat' he called her as he banged the door behind him and left. She stared at the cold dinner she had prepared for him before she noticed her children peeping through the hole in door. The sight made her weak to the bones. She tried to stand but she couldn't. So she just lay on the floor, crying and snorting.
'He would change' was what she kept telling everyone who begged her to leave her husband ' I love him' was another line she often used. That was before though, when she still had friends that gave her advice. Before her husband scared all of them away. All she has left now are memories of the man she once loved. The man she could have died for. She remembered, those days she yearned for his touch. He was the center of life. He added meaning to her life. He was a shining light in the darkness of heart. Now he was everything he promised her he would never be.
When the beatings started, she would cry and he would apologize and promise never to do it again. At a point, he began to get his kicks from seeing her suffer. Beating her became an addiction for him. It was his daily bread. Her body became the place he off loads his frustration. The days he comes home drunk were the worse. He would force her to strip dance and then suck his balls. He would rape her even when she wanted to give herself freely. He would slap her hard on the face and squeeze her breasts like unripe oranges. Then he would force his manhood into her dry vagina and leave it red and sore.
Her husband was the agony in her life. On her body was an illustration of his bitterness with life.
She couldn't leave him, he was her only family. She was an orphan girl. Then her children, her little children. She wanted to give them what she never had 'A family'.
So she bore it, hoping that one day it would all end, hoping that she would wake up and realize it was all a dream. Hoping that he would come into her bedroom and kiss her while running his hands through her hair like he used to do. But she kept hoping. Days turned to months, months turned to years. He grew worse by the minute.
On Sunday 27th of March 1994 she made up her mind to end it all. She served him his meal exactly the way he loved it. Sparkling tray, One spoon, One fork, One table knife. He ate in silence and she watched him in silence. When he began choking and calling her name, she still watched him in silence. When he fell on the floor, holding his throat and asking for water, she watched him in silence. When he foamed through the mouth, she watched him in silence. When his body trembled the way hers used to when he beat her, she still watched him in silence. When he hit his head on the table the way he used to smash her head on the wall, she watched him in silence and when he was too weak to cry and whimpered the way he used to make her whimper in fear, she watched him silence. Through it all she looked at him in the eyeball and watch him suffer. She took in every moment. His pain repaired her broken soul. His cry fueled her weak body. When he breath his last, it was as though she was just born again.
No comments:
Post a Comment