Late last year, shortly after her fortieth birthday she discovered through her twelve years old daughter that her husband turned devil had been abusing their daughter sexually for the past two years. It was something beyond her imagination, she knew the world was evil but evil had its limit. Chidaalu's argument was quite compelling and the details as well as evidence were too plausible to ignore. This brought pain to the already distraught Owụwanyanwụ, thus she decided to confront her husband with the allegations. In the ensuing confrontation, the man admitted to his deeds with no form of remorse, he rebuked her with an accompanying slap boasting to high heavens about his daughter’s sweetness which the wife cum mother could not match. There is so much a man can take and so much a woman can bear. It was a little past twelve midnight and her husband attempted to embrace the comfort of sleep after the episode but Owụwanyanwụ would not have it. She went into her kitchen and returned with a knife that had killed the new year chicken some months ago and drove the sharp tool of destruction into his bare back, through his spine repeating the act severally with the words "You son a bitch, you deserve to rot in hell!!!", coming out of her mouth. I can't tell exactly what brought Chidaalu to the scene, it was perhaps the cry of her father, but she observed the whole scene in shock. When the reality of everything rolled pass her memory once more with the lifeless body of her father spilling more blood around the room she screamed and alerted the neighbors.
I do not know much about names, or the intricacies of a rising sun but this was truly a blanket night, and the night only got darker. Owụwanyanwụ would be arrested by the police and charged to court, the case is still on trial. Chidaalu would be taken care of by a renowned NGO that takes care of abused children and fights against child abuse, her whereabouts are currently unknown probably for safety reasons. As for me, the author of this fiction, I would hope that somewhere in this story I have poured light on cultural influences on everyday life as well as the cancer of domestic violence and child abuse. Not all stories have a happy ending but I do hope that all rising suns see the end of their blanket night. Till we meet again, I remain Elvis Osho(the beast), thank you for reading.
