Episode 2Three months later
We have been married for over two months now and — I just found out I’m pregnant, the obvious result of the rape.
God, I feel so ashamed. My voyage as a wife has been bumpy and humiliating.
He repulses me now, every time he tries to touch me I feel like throwing up — the baby could be the reason behind it though. I dread telling him about my pregnancy because I don’t know how he would react.
He usually has this spell of black moods, it is ill-advised to go close to him when he is in that mood.
He has been possessive ever since we got married, sometimes, he is charming and attentive. He thinks I would go file a complaint at the police station or human right activist.
I chortled at that thought; who would believe a husband raped his wife? You are shocked too, right?
I burst out in laughter before realizing I was in the conference room with some potential clients, I blinked rapidly and the laughter died down suddenly as I felt curious eyes on me.
This was not the time to unleash my domestic problem, I realized. I cleared my throat and gathered my thoughts into the domestic folder in my head. I smiled at my clients to ease the tension and curiosity buzzing within the conference room.
I know as you read this, you are wondering who I am.
My name is Adeola Janet Aderemi, now Mrs. Adeola Janet Coker. I am married to one of the youngest CEO in the country.
Olanrewaju Coker is his name. Lanre, as he is popularly called, is the only son and child of Senator Coker and Mrs. Coker. I smile wistfully as I reminisce a little about the man I fell in love with.
Lanre is over 6 ft. tall, with alert light brown eyes. He has a pointed nose which suits his long face and naturally red colored bow lips which compliments his fair skin.
His black curly hair gave away his Caucasian descendant. I can’t decide if it was love at first sight, especially with the circumstance.
Most ladies wish to be in my position, I would gladly trade my position as his wife with any lady.
I never wish to relive the incident. The incident which has led to a pregnancy — wanted or unwanted?
I sigh mournfully, the darkness of the incident threatens to swallow me. How do I broach the subject with him?
Would I find him in a cheerful mood tonight? Does he have to know? Or should I keep the secret to myself, but for how long?
I resolve within myself to tell him…he has to know. Tonight.
#Diary of an abused Wife
Written by Okusun Mercy
The proposal came unexpectedly, I am still reeling from the proposal shock. I can’t believe it…I choose not to believe it.
The white gold engagement ring, which felt heavy on my finger, is the stark proof that he did propose to me.
My younger sisters have been “ooh-ing” and “aah-ing” over the engagement ring.
If only they knew!
It has indeed been a night of utter surprise, who knew a date night would turn into a proposal night. My mother can’t stop beaming, as her first child and daughter, she is excited to know that I am getting married.
As I stare at her smiling face, it dawned on me that I haven’t seen my mother smile in a while, since she lost her husband, my father. Her infectious laughter threatens to contaminate me, but I refuse to celebrate in this sham engagement.
My mother noticed I wasn’t smiling, she raises her eyebrow in question at me, and I shrugged in reply. I gave her a little smile and looked down at my finger where the ostentatious ring rested. The ring seems to be mocking me, it seems to say: this is the price for your silence.
The humiliation burns as the images threatens to erupt, I close my eyes to prevent it. I am not strong enough, the images spills from my memory and flashes across as tears rolled down my face.
“Deola” I heard my mother’s soft worried voice call out to me.
“Are you alright?” she asked in concern, I opened my eyes and our gazes locked. I saw concern in her brown eyes, she looked worried and scared. I parted my lips to speak, but no sound came forth.
How do I explain? How do I tell her? I asked myself these questions as her worried eyes roved over my face. My younger sisters had been alerted to my present state and I watched their happiness dim slowly.
“Sister Deola, are you alright?” Bisola, the youngest, asked. I sighed and closed my eyes in shame.
How do I tell them?
How do I tell my mother that her future son-in-law…
… Raped me.
#Diary of an Abused Wife.
Written by Okusun Mercy.
There was a deafening silence in the room after Mrs Ogunleye’s utterance. Bosun gasped as her eyes widened in shock. Deji burst out in laughter, his Mother joined him. “You are joking” Deji said suddenly, the laughter suddenly gone from his eyes, Bosun felt her husband’s muscles tense and flex in anger. She sat up quickly as a wave of nausea swept over her, Deji stared at her briefly in concern then returned his attention back to his Mother.
“Mami, why?” He asked tiredly as he sat back again. “What do you mean WHY?” his Mother began angrily, “You still dare to ask me why? You know perfectly well the answer to that question” she finished, turning to the dark skinned lady, “Go and greet your husband, Bimpe” she said. Bimpe stood and walked over to them, kneeled before Deji, she smiled brightly. Bosun suddenly bolted from the room, “Bosun!!!” Deji called after her fleeing figure.
“Heeeeeeeeeey!!!! make una help me oooooo !!!!!” A man’s shout filled the air, people began to gather at the bank of the river, as he carried out an unconscious woman from the river and laid her gently on the sandy bank. There were murmurs amongst the onlookers.
“she don die?” A passerby asked, “see as dis fine woman just don waste her life” another one said in sympathy. “Excuse me” An elderly man called out, the gathering crowd parted to make way for him. He was dressed in a blue starched shirt and charcoal black trousers, he had a stethoscope dangling from his neck.
“I am a doctor, please give us a little breathing room” he announced with authority. He squatted beside the unconscious woman, he checked if she was breathing and performed CPR on her. She coughed and sputtered water after a few minutes, the gathered crowd sighed with relief. “Can you hear me?” The doctor asked her, “ Can you open your eyes?” He got a nod as her response, “I’m going to take you to the hospital” He told her, she muttered, “I didn’t get that” the doctor said, she muttered again, the doctor bent his head close to her mouth to catch her muttering.
“Deji” she muttered again.
Deji stood up from the bed suddenly, he thought he had heard his name being called. He was worried sick, Bosun hadn’t returned home, it was unlike her to stay out late, he stared at the wall clock, 7:30pm. He sighed and sat on the bed, he took a look around the room, it was exactly just the same way he had left it in the morning, he smiled because he knew his wife was such a neat person.
The ringing of his phone broke into his thoughts, Deji stretched and picked his phone off the bedside table, he stared at the phone screen, It was an unfamiliar number. He hesitated, swiped the screen and said “Hello?”. He paused as he listened, “which hospital?” He asked tensely, “I’ll be there” he finished. He pulled the phone away from his ear and closed his eyes, “Oh Lord, I’m sorry” he began as he prayed.
“Please, let her be live and I promise to be the best husband, keep her alive for me Lord” he finished. He opened his eyes, stood up and fished his car keys out of his pocket, he hurried out of the bedroom.
To be continued!!!!!!!!
She is a virgin land, untouched, an Island
I, a preying hawk, came close
Like the British, I came to exploit
She kept me like Odyssey
I made abode in her heart; Robinson Crusoe
Torn between worlds like the Persian prince
Like Frost, I should have left the road untaken
I am Atlas and she, my eternal weight
Simplicity was the bait
Headstrong like Aries
She cooled it like winter winds
My plans now unfurled
The Loki in me contained
Getting stuck was never my goal
But this lady has stuck to my soul.
Written by Deji Daodu
The sun had began to set, casting a dull glow over the city. The noise from the traffic could be clearly heard; cars honk blaring, hawkers calling out their wares to attract buyers and pedestrians talking as they walk to their various destinations.
The traffic began to move as the traffic light changed to green, all these happenings didn’t matter to her as she continued in her march, not paying attention to her surroundings.
Her flowery gown slapped against her body as the wind blew. Her slim body is fairly outlined, her fair skin in contrast to the white dress she wore, her black hair is pulled away from her face and secured at the back of head in a ponytail. Her brown eyes stared ahead, as if staring into space, her ears are devoid of earrings and her face is free of make up. She mumbled some words as she reached to stroke her chin, coming out of her trance like state. Her eyes darts to the right to check the traffic light as she got to the road intersection. I’m almost there, she thought.
She couldn’t help but recall the events that took place this morning. She had been in the kitchen, clearing away the remnants of the breakfast they had earlier. She placed the rinsed plates in the dishwasher and began to wipe down the tiled counter top with a soft kitchen towel. She smiled as she began to hum a favourite tune of hers. The microwave beeped, she turned and began to move towards the right corner of the kitchen. She felt the vibration of her phone in her skirt pocket, she paused in her movement to pull the phone out her right pocket, she felt her heart skip when she saw the caller’s name displayed on the phone screen. She exhaled and inhaled before tapping the green icon on the screen to answer the call.
“Good morning Ma” She greeted, resting against the counter. She paused as her Mother~in~law carried on without answering her greeting. Bosun stared at the silver wedding ring on her ring finger, she sighed inwardly; it was just too early.
“Are you even listening to me?” The woman on the other end asked in disgust.
“Yes Ma” Bosun replied, her Mother~in~law said a few more words and ended the call abruptly. Bosun pulled the phone away from her ear and sighed, “Lord, i ask for strength.” she prayed.
At exactly 10am prompt, the door bell rang, Bosun took a deep breath and smoothed her hair. She stood up from the black leather sofa and walked the short distance to the door. She planted a smile on her face as she turned the door knob and opened the door. A woman in her early sixties, dark complexioned and of medium height, dressed in blue lace IRO and BUBA with its matching head tie carelessly tied on her head. She thrusted her black hand bag at Bosun.
“Welcome Ma” Bosun said, kneeling immediately. Her Mother~in~law stepped inside, “hmmm” the older woman replied nonchalantly, a dark complexioned lady followed closely behind and stepped into the house. Bosun stood, shut the door and followed as the older lady led the way to the sitting room. Bosun dropped the handbag carefully on the small table beside the sofa where her Mother~in~law sat.
TO BE CONTINUED!!!!
Please drop your comments and thoughts
Pretty face battered with coyness
Simple life on the superficial level
Ravaged by fear on deep planes
Always starting, never finishing
The world told you once, you accepted it thrice
If we are your makers, then may God forgive us
Your frail soul lacks audacity, your skills lack audibility
I will lay in wait on silent shore
Praying that someday, you will come to the fore.
Written by Daodu Deji (Witty Quill)
God, I’m sorry, i know what i could be if i followed You
But i don’t have the patience to follow through, so i will go with plan B
Instead of being prayerful, i have resorted to solving my problems using my mentality
But it is much harder than i thought. The bad habits that i have grown with are proving detrimental.
I don’t want to end up like Whitney falling victim to suicidal whisperings or an alcoholic battling depression while downing bottles of whiskey
Philosophy has got me asking questions that i can’t find answers to, I probably would if i swallow my pride and ask You, but i would rather go through a phonebook than read the Bible.
I don’t even pray anymore, like i have got nothing to say anymore
Tongue tied, but my heart’s crying out: Lord, can you hear me?
Help me because i am at my wits end, darkness is all around me, i am deep in the abyss, suffering even in the presence of bliss.
I don’t want to miss heaven after a hell like this.
Written by Kelvin Akogun.