NOT MY WISH
"No, I am quitting this now!" Sade soliloquized aloud, banging the table in the sitting room and smashing the flower vase on the floor. Her eyes were swollen, and bruises designed her body. Her two years of marriage had been blessed with pains and unceasing tears. She was a victim of domestic violence.
Full of frustration, she sat on the floor, having flashbacks of how he never wanted to marry Tunde. Since she was from a wealthy family, her parents refused to let her spend the rest of her life with Fola, her true love. Fola was from a penurious family, and that was the only reason for their rejection. Sade had no option than to settle down with Tunde, who had been after her even when she was in a relationship with Fola. After all, he was wealthy. Sade didn't love him; she married him, hoping love would grow in their wedlock.
A loving Tunde suddenly became a monster in their marriage. All the time that they spent together before living as one, he'd hid his real character. Sade gave her all trying to please him, but proved abortive.
Tunde never stopped complaining about everything she did. It was either she didn't add enough salt to his meal, or it was too much. At times, it could be that she was late to sweep the compound, or too slow in washing his car. It all ended in series of beating. Sade would faint sometimes, and he'd take her to the hospital for treatment, then back home for another drama. Many times, Tunde would get drunk and return home late; spank Sade with his belt and pour his dinner on her.
One would have expected her to alert her parents, but they returned abroad already. Tunde seized her phone and stopped all her access to getting anyone involved.
Locked up in the house, she cried, wishing she hadn't married him. Fola had become the personal assistant to the state governor. She bit her lower lip so hard. "It wasn't my fault," she said, holding her head in pain.
She fixed her dewy eyes on the pieces of the broken flower vase, expecting another teary night. She knew her man.
Victor Apata
©Vikjtaar
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