The night cooed in silence as darkness consumed her single room house. She sat still in the middle of her cheap bed imagining all sorts of demons surrounding her. She was afraid of the dark.
She had always been.
Her three-weeks-old son made a sound and her hand rushed to her left to pat him back to sleep. She yawned and felt an overwhelming heaviness flatten her eyelids for a second.
She was woken up by the same reason she had been avoiding that second of sleep. The vibrating sound of his bare fist landing on the metallic door had already filled the room. Unwisely, she had dozed off.
Her feet hit the cold floor then she moved towards the door in the no longer that dark room.
He sounded angry.
And he was.
A blow numbed one side of her sleepy face as soon as he flung the door open. She lost her balance and felt the back of her skull crash on a wooden table behind her.
He closed the door and closed in on her before she could get up.
Why was I knocking my own house? What would a proper wife be doing asleep before her own husband is home? He roared.
Aware there was no wise thing between an answer or silence, she settled for honesty.
Baba watoto, I apologize for your finding me asleep but since I delivered, I have not rested at all. I am in need of rest. Ple...
He smacked her face back to the floor she was rising from to cut her explanation short.
I didn't ask for a third child you filthy bitch! He hissed. I am not old enough to be called dad by three fucking children. Two were enough for your ugly ass to trap me in this cursed marriage. And don't fucking start with annoying crap about how the family planning method you were using wasn't a hundred percentage. For some reason your lazy ass is more fertile than most women.
Better looking women... He added.
She boiled to the core and yelled in a way that shocked her too.
Today I die if I have to. Maybe I am more blessed than fertile and let's agree this lazy ass managing to push those three heads out of herself should be termed as heroic because I will gladly tell you it's the hardest thing I ever done. Being that I have done hard things like put up with your shit for the last decade, motherhood remains my most painful brave acts.
I should also like to clarify that as much as you would like to believe you were trapped by this ugly bitch, you said hi first. She added in tears.
She took a quick deep breath before he could say a word or make a move.
He didn't.
He rose from where his shocked self-was brought to sit by her amplified voice. Without a word, he disappeared into a foggy dawn.
She knew right then that it wasn't over. It would never be over.
She yelled at him.
There was no coming back from that. She understood at that moment she had to leave.
Though it took her almost two more years to gather the courage to be called a single mum. To be grouped with them and to be thought of as cheap. Tragic lessons for daughters and no-go zones for their sons.
She always thought of trying to make it better or wanting to be a hundred percent sure if leaving was the wise decision.
She weighed the possibility of her losing the children while overlooking the probability of him finally killing her and making them motherless. Followed by him going to prison for the rest of his life. Or her committing manslaughter or a calculated murder all in self-defense.
The intensity of the judgments and insults heading her way was depressing. She knew the society would crucify her not 'fighting' for her marriage. For not understanding the love is in the abuse.
The more she stayed, the worse it got.
So. She finally left.
Thank you for coming.
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