Days pass and daddy doesn’t come home. The last time I asked mummy about him I was shushed. Not seeing daddy doesn’t worry me as much because mummy has been making noodles everyday for me. Also, I’m still mad at dad for what he did to me and mummy. It doesn’t hurt me as much …
‘Yeah. I’m well aware what I wanted when I called you over.’ Over the years, I’ve come to accept what I am, the lifestyle I chose for myself but being told to my face what I am, what I do for a living, put me on the defensive. ‘Now that we’ve reestablished the fact that …
‘I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t think… I didn’t want you to find out this way.’ Is that mummy? It has to be her. This voice… it is but… is she crying? I hope not. This will be the second time I’ve seen mummy cry. I don’t like mummy crying. I try to turn but …
It’s not as far as I thought but then again, I am too busy to really notice. We are both busy. His hands are up my thighs, my breasts, the back of my head like magic on my skin, working me so hard until I throbbed and ached. ‘Ughhh.’ A little moan escaped my lips …
This can’t be happening! Why?! Why does it hurt so much? It’s burning! I need mummy! ‘Dozie noooooooo! Jesus Christ! God! No!’ I watch as daddy hits mummy. Again and again and again. For some reason, I cannot move. I find it weird. Just a while ago I was screaming at daddy to give me …
‘Nooooo!!! Daddy stop! Daddy, please don’t! Please.’ ‘She’s just a child! Dozie no!’ ‘It’s about time you both learn your place!’ ‘O…la. Ola! wake up. It’s a dream.’ ‘Huh? What? Whu… where am I?’ ‘Shhh. It’s ok. I’m here. You’re safe.’ I blink back tears I didn’t realise I was shedding. My eyes gradually adjust …
Finally, the stars dancing in my eyes have disappeared. I blink multiple times and rub them. Seems the thick liquid has finally cleared. Mom’s meals were and still are the best things to me, not seeing stars as I open my eyes, is a close second right now. I try to push myself up but …
‘Yes! Yes!! Yess!!! Urghhh!’ I’m still. Unmoving. I watch as his face contorts into this grotesque form as he finds his release. It kinda reminds me of the time I was little and pooed a big one. Unlike myself I giggle. ‘Hey baby. I made you laugh? Huh?’ His arms wrap around my waist and …
‘Oh God! oh God! oh God! Please. Please. Please. Please. I’m begging.’ ‘Mummy. What are you saying?’ ‘Hush Lola. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.’ BANG! The door was shut with such an enormous force it rattled the little house they lived in. The stench of alcohol sifted through the house and hit …
