abuse

The Abused ( Part V )

Epic Finish 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

For the past two months Charity and I have been working together on a killer suspense story. Titled -The abused

I must say , I’m indeed very happy and thrilled with the audience and all those who keep up with this blog .

Without further ado lets get to the main part of this blog post

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

On the 24th of March, I woke up for the first time, alone with no one groping me. I was… shocked? Or mildly surprised? I don’t know which. But it felt so strange. My skin crawled in dread. Had I displeased him the night before? Or he didn’t love me anymore? My heart ached with the thought of that. Not being loved anymore. I didn’t like the feeling.
I waited patiently for him to come. But he didn’t. So I snuck into his room. But he wasn’t there. Neither were his clothes. Nor his bags. Not even his favorite kaftan. My heart beat faster than it ever had. I practically lept down the stairs to get to you, Mom.
Did you ever, even unconsciously notice the way I paled when you told me Danjuma had left?
I’m not sure you did. Your attention was not on me. It was on the Bollywood movie you were watching. Your attention had never been on me.
I walked slowly back to my room that day and all I could think of was that he was gone. Without trace. Evaporated. Dissappeared.
I couldn’t fathom it. I was pregnant with his child. And lonely. And… confused.
As I sat down on the bed that day, I couldn’t determine if I was happy he had gone or sad. I had this sense of…what’s the word? Erm, this sense of loss. That’s it. Loss. I missed him? I wanted him back? I don’t know. All I knew was that, he was gone. And he didn’t even leave so much as a goodbye.
I didn’t let myself weep until the night had gone to sleep. But that in itself is not entirely true. For it is on the night, that the night is truly awake. The night never sleeps.

I would call my genes blessed. No one knew I was pregnant. I didn’t even show. Only a slight increase in my tummy and my breasts. Although I ate a little bit more, nothing else could actually indicate I was pregnant.
I carried my baby all the way to it’s ninth month. I had no medical care whatsoever. No one to guide me through the pregnancy. Nothing. I had nothing at all.
And I lived under the same roof as you Mom.
Like I said, you never took notice of me.
I bless whatever it was that withheld my delivery till you and Dad both travelled. As always, you had left me alone. With no one this time. I was alone in a big house, scared and pregnant.
My water broke in the living room. I had bent to pick up my book when I felt how wet my trouser was. I had read enough about pregnancy and delivery to know that I was in labor.
Before the pain could hit, I closed every curtain, barred every door, and turned up all the televisions to their highest volumes before limping back to my bathroom.
By the time I had stripped my clothes and turned the water in the tub to fill, I was a crying, sweating and panting mess.
The volume of the TV’s were so loud that no one heard my screams.
If my estimates are correct, and I believe they are, I labored seven hours to birth both my baby and the placenta. Of course, I did the washing and the cutting all by myself.
She was the most precious thing the world had ever seen. So frail. So little. So beautiful. She had your fingers Mother. And your nose Father. But no matter how much she resembled you both, one look at her and you’d know that Danjuma had fathered her.
I named her Raziel. It means ‘Secret’
But now she no longer is. Because you now know about the grandchild that you never knew you had. In its funny way, you’ve known this child. You give her treats. I know because I’ve seen how you cherish children that are not yours.How kind you are to them and the opposite to your own. If only you balanced it. If only. And I also know because she lives beside your house. Mallam Abu would never leave that place till you take back my daughter from him. He gave his word.
Go to Mallam Abu. Tell him to give you the baby that a girl named Rakia gave to him. Tell him that this girl, this Rakia kept her promise. Tell him that you are my parents. Tell him to give you my child.

By the time you’re done reading this, I might have already started to rot. I’m not sure. I really don’t care. All I care about now is that you atone for your negligence with my child. Tell her…tell her I loved her. Tell her she was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Tell her that I am sorry. I was too broken to continue. Tell her that I believed that suicide was the only way for me.
Tell her that I know I was wrong.
Tell her I wished I had chosen better. Tell her I wish I had lived.
Just…tell her.

Dear Mom,
You’ve come to the end of my letter. I’m sorry if this made you cry. Howbeit you crying was inevitable, it was not the aim of the words you’re reading on this paper.
I believe that you’ve been given another chance to be a better parent. A chance that nobody almost never gets. Use it wisely.
Don’t over protect my daughter. Let her make her mistakes. But guide her. Don’t let her too loose that she becomes wild. Taming her would not be easy if you do this.
Love her. With all your heart. Teach her. Train a woman the world would see and take their caps off in salute.
Forgive Father, forgive Danjuma. Forgive me.
I’m sorry things had to go this way. I’m sorry. I’m tired of writing now. I just want to go. Good bye Mom.
I love you.

And Mom, forgive yourself. I have forgiven you.

The End

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I’m sure you all saw that coming , all good things come to an end .

APPRECIATION 🦋❤️

I thank the amazing writer I worked with Chide Charity without her this recent posts would have been relatively bland.

I also thank my Dad and Mum for supporting me all through this fantastic journey 🦋❤️

That’s on that for this blog post.

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For more you can always check on my blog from time to time ..And Charity and I would be available if you need to contact us.
Feel free to contact me ,

jennyfarsanni101@gmail.com


And Chide Charity cojochide@gmail.com

© Jennifer Sanni.2020.
No part of this publication may be used without legal authorization from the author.

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