Surviving

If I had a choice, I would want to live a life and not just survive. But despite what I want, at the end of the day I fight for survival, fighting the demons in my mind which keeps reminding me of the ugly past. The past I wish to forget about. If my life was a novel, the end page would be that I tried to survive despite it all.

“All poised and glamorous, she walked to the pulpit. The room was filled with her cologne and radiance. She received the mic from the Master of Ceremony and hugged him, then stood facing everyone. Her lipstick was on point, she knew red suited her and it brought out this strong stature of a lady. The frill of her dress swayed in tune to her radiance. And her hair was cooperative to the moment, staying put so this perfect beauty could be seen by all. Everyone stopped clapping when she put the mic to her mouth, listening attentively.

“Thank you all for gracing this occasion with your presence”, she spoke. Shouts could be heard of people uttering how much they loved her. I sat there looking at how her ambience took control of everyone. They all loved her, they adored her and it was easy to even depict that even the ground she walked on, they did worship it. I guzzled the gin in my glass and turned around looking for a waiter nearby with more shots, I need this. Well, at least getting intoxicated helped me get through this nightmare.

I missed her speech as I was on the getting intoxicated mission but noticed when her husband joined her on the stage. I could feel my blood flow changing, I hated this picture perfect show they put up yet had many suffering at their hands. It was as if I could still smell his stinky skin on me, his beard on my shoulder as he reached for my ear to lick it. How he held me by my neck as he forced himself on me, the sharp sting on my genitals as he penetrated and his eyes closed as he enjoyed whilst tears filled my eyes. I tried screaming but she was there telling me not to make a sound. Match made in hell, indeed!

Everyone else was now dancing and she approached me and whispered, “you are drawing attention to yourself, maybe I should get you back home”. I badly wanted to get drunk, numb my thoughts and escape this façade but each and every time I was not drunk, I would relive this night mare again. I trusted her, I trusted them. They were my only family. If I knew two years back that they were lying to me when they said they would take care of me and protect me as what grandma did before she died, I wouldn’t have agreed to leave the rural home with them.

I remember they sat me down and talked me into leaving the rural home. They said I would waste away and Iife would be worse since I would be alone. I believed them, I had to leave the place I had known as home since when mum passed on when I was still a toddler. Seventeen years, I had been there with grandma. She taught me to grow crops, tend the livestock and I would have been able to take care of myself. But she also taught me to respect the elders and obey them. I took all she taught me and obeyed when aunt and her husband said I had to leave the village.

She dragged me out of the hall, car keys in her hands. We got to her Land Rover Discovery, she unlocked the doors and told me to get in the back. I held the door to open, and someone came from her side talking with her. Her husband was asking for her. She climbed down and said she would come back soon and walked with the person back to the hall. I watched as they walked away and as soon as she was out of sight I removed the heels I had and ran away. I figured this was my only chance to freedom. “

“Why didn’t you report this to the police?” Judy asked me

“Girl, no one would have believed me. If you know how much of idols they were and how perfect they appeared” I responded and puffed on the blunt we were sharing.

“So don’t you want to go back to your rural home again?”

“And risk them finding me again? No I wont take those chances no.”

“Ohh I hate this guy, he is needy but pays well. Lemme talk with him. I will be back”, Judy walked to the car that had pulled in front of us. She came back after a few minutes. “Girl, he’s gat his friend and I know he pays so lets go with them”. I threw away the stumb that was left and followed her into the car.

“Call a jack a jack. Call a spade a spade. But always call a whore a lady.”


― Patrick Rothfuss, from The Name of the Wind.

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