16 views
Shadows
It was really stupid of me to have imagined that I could be loved, wanted, appreciated and acknowledged. I mean how could I have thought so when life itself had pulled me lower and shoved me deep into the dirt. When I think of how earth is structured, I think of myself. I see myself, having more liquid then flesh and bones. I was 70% water.70% soft. 70% hurt.
I used to wish for brothers and sisters but if this was the life I'd be wishing them into, I'd rather they never came. Having experienced the sorrows of an only child and my whole existence summarized into mother's last words to me. It was no surprise I ended up this way.
"You cannot tie me down Nneka, whatever this man does to you is none of my business."
I remember crying on my knees in front of the door, not from the pinching pain that throbbed on my left cheek when she signed her palm on it, but from the pain I shared with her when she had slammed the door on her fingers in her rush to leave the house. That high pitched scream and the swear words were the last of he voice which I had trapped in my heart and memory.
The man who had forebidden me from calling him "father" was out on the floor. Unlike me, he didn't have to feel the pain of watching her leave the house because she had kissed him goodbye with a pestle to the head.
No, he wasn't dead.
Neither mum nor I knew my father because he had planted his seed in a rush when he momentarily diverted his attention from grandpa's stack of cash to mum's lustful eighteen years old body. Ironically, she named me Nneka when she as a mother couldn't be supreme, but I had vowed to live up to my name.
Three months after she left, I was on a hospital bed, all set for my operation. The man mum had left me with had come to love me, so much so that he had a business idea, one that would sky rocket his financial life and I was to be his capital.
The sun is coming up and I must leave because by morning I won't be visible to your eyes. But come again tomorrow night, sit by my grave and I will tell you my story of how at thirteen, I had lost my womb.
My motherhood was snatched from me.
© Leo_kitti
I used to wish for brothers and sisters but if this was the life I'd be wishing them into, I'd rather they never came. Having experienced the sorrows of an only child and my whole existence summarized into mother's last words to me. It was no surprise I ended up this way.
"You cannot tie me down Nneka, whatever this man does to you is none of my business."
I remember crying on my knees in front of the door, not from the pinching pain that throbbed on my left cheek when she signed her palm on it, but from the pain I shared with her when she had slammed the door on her fingers in her rush to leave the house. That high pitched scream and the swear words were the last of he voice which I had trapped in my heart and memory.
The man who had forebidden me from calling him "father" was out on the floor. Unlike me, he didn't have to feel the pain of watching her leave the house because she had kissed him goodbye with a pestle to the head.
No, he wasn't dead.
Neither mum nor I knew my father because he had planted his seed in a rush when he momentarily diverted his attention from grandpa's stack of cash to mum's lustful eighteen years old body. Ironically, she named me Nneka when she as a mother couldn't be supreme, but I had vowed to live up to my name.
Three months after she left, I was on a hospital bed, all set for my operation. The man mum had left me with had come to love me, so much so that he had a business idea, one that would sky rocket his financial life and I was to be his capital.
The sun is coming up and I must leave because by morning I won't be visible to your eyes. But come again tomorrow night, sit by my grave and I will tell you my story of how at thirteen, I had lost my womb.
My motherhood was snatched from me.
© Leo_kitti
