My Marriage; My Nightmare (2)

Allwell Victoria

Life must be really clouded with all beast-like hurts, I thought, as I woke up, naked and tied to the bed. Just when my eyes came open, the first thing that greeted my sight was the weird creature. “Who the hell are you?” I screamed. Struggling to set myself free from the chains tied around me.

He didn’t say a word, then I said; “kunle, please don’t hurt me, I beg you.” I must have said that to satisfy my curiosity of who the beast really was. No one else was in the house except for I and Kunle, so who could this beastly creature be? Besides, Kunle was nowhere to be found, and that to me was weird. We should be in this mess together, except the beast was no one else but the man I married.

Kunle, indeed was the beast, his looks were weird and ugly and far from the handsome Kunle everyone recommended that I marry, but his moves and brownish eyes belonged to no one else but my so called husband; Kunle Adegbite. This, I could tell, looking closely at him, as he walked towards me to tie my mouth to a close.

He was armed with knives and deadly objects that told me my death was near. ‘How did I wake up in this mess? God, save me from this nightmare, I beg you. This must be a dream, one I need to wake up from quickly, before it ravishes me to death’.  My wet tearful eyes were empty and nothing to the monster. Never would I have thought that my charming and sweet Kunle could be dead-heartless.’  My thoughts were screaming louder than my mind could hear, as my mouth was tied and body chained down.

The knife he pulled out of a corner erased my thoughts completely, my bones trembling in fear of the harm and doom that was about to end me, forever.

He cut of my nipples, sliced my skin in bits, torturing me with hysterical and loud laughter in the air, ignoring my cries and hurts. I have never known pain for its cruel and spiteful worth, all my life.

My covered mouth could barely scream and my open eyes were a deeper pain, because I could see his evil moves and do nothing about them.

His torture seemed endless; he had new styles at every minute. I could tell my breath was on its losing end, but then, he had just begun. Because the next thing I knew, was a burning fire in my vagina. And boom… my walls went dark.

                                                              **

I woke up in a bush bitter and battered, deep pains all over my body. ‘What?’ How could I have survived the despicable trauma? Tears rolled down my burning eyes. My body had huge scars and marks all over and I couldn’t move from where I was laid. ‘Why didn’t I die earlier? Why leave me to wake to a reckless and helpless soul?’ I queried heaven with silent tears strolling down my cheeks.

Whilst the insects of the night and cold of the day battered me to silent and slow death, an old woman of whom I would never have allowed a touch of my finger if I had my way or some strength to push her away, came to my rescue.

According to the old woman, it took me six months and three weeks to get out of coma, and a few more weeks to regain consciousness. Hmm!

Life has taught me a greater lesson than I have ever imagined to be taught in my stay here on earth. I have decided to shut the world out of my life completely, as I have chosen to stay with the poor old woman in her small, cranny and unkempt hut. I feel like I owe my life to her and God who decided to keep me, in spite of my disobedience.

I am sure my family knows nothing about my being, whether I live or be lost, is not theirs to worry about ever again. Though, sometimes, I am forced to wonder what Kunle, the beast, sold out as news to them. Many a times, my heart curses him and the day I met him. I question the love, romance and beautiful times we shared, the appraisals and love he acquired from fooling people, including me, Susan. Hmm! I am still yet to understand the genesis and basis of the torture he pounced on my flesh and soul. Except that, I exist but live no more.

That, I think is the payment for the course I chose to follow; ‘the voices of men rather than the voice of God’. Now I understand the benchmark of the scripted word; “it is better to put your trust in God than to put it in man.”

‘Forgive me Lord’, is my daily cry, but here, in this bush of raving animals, will I remain till death forever silences the deep sorrow I bear as I exist, daily.

This is my story, my scars live with me. My plea is that you pray for me, that I may recover from the guilt that has condemned me to thick darkness for so long.

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