I knew I had to leave this place; I could not take it anymore. I hurriedly packed the few things I had come with inside a yellow nylon, as I didn’t want it to seem evident to the nosy neighbours that I was running away. The loud chiming sound of the clock startled me. I could feel my heart beat faster. I was running out of time, and I knew it would not be long before he arrived. I continued to pack my things when I stumbled upon the picture of my aunt.
She was laughing in this picture, and I found myself smiling at the memory of that day. It felt like ages since I smiled; it felt very alien to me as I watched my eyes brighten a bit. I remember when I used to have a smiling face, my mother had told me it was what made me stand out from everyone. Things, however, changed when I moved in with my aunty. I was excited to move in with her as she had always been my favourite Aunt.
The day I had arrived at my Aunt’s house, I had been very shocked at her appearance. She looked nothing like the picture I had tucked inside my suitcase. She had dark circles under her eyes and looked lean as she tried to smile at me. I was tempted to run away until spoke to me in her sweet angelic voice and then hugged me. My Aunt welcomed me with a lovely dish of jollof rice and chicken. She lived in a duplex, was unable to have children, and always treated me like her daughter. I had settled in nicely in her house for two days before her husband, Uncle Sam, came back. The day Uncle Sam arrived, I had gone to plait my hair. I came back into the house laughing with my Aunt as we ate roasted plantain. I saw my Aunt’s countenance change the moment she locked eyes with Uncle Sam.
“This is Ada, my niece,” Aunty said with her eyes downcast as she urged me to come forward with a slight push.
“Good afternoon, Uncle,” I said, smiling.
I was surprised at the cold face that had stared right back at me; Uncle Sam looked at me like I had seen my mother do in the market when she wanted to select the fattest goat to buy for Christmas. He had looked at Aunty, then back at me one last time before disappearing to his room. That was the last day I saw my Aunt smile while breathing. The next time I saw her smile was in her coffin; she had looked like she was at peace.
“You know how clumsy your Aunt is,” Uncle Sam said as he broke the news of my aunt’s death to me when I entered the house. He said she had slipped down the stairs and died instantly. He smiled like it was a joke to him. I cried so much that day, and I wondered how my sweet Aunt had ended up with a man like Uncle Sam.
The day after the burial, I had packed my bags intending to go back with my parents. Uncle Sam, however, insisted that I remain with him. He was friends with most of the professors in the university I planned on attending. He told my parents he would meet with them to secure my admission. This overjoyed my parents, and my mother had even knelt in appreciation. I had cried myself to sleep that night as I wished my Aunt could come back to life.
A month after my Aunt’s death, I was accepted to my dream school. I so excited that I hurried to Uncle Sam’s room to break the news to him, and that was the first time I saw him smile genuinely.
“I knew you would get in,” he had said proudly as he squeezed my shoulders.
That night while I slept soundly, Uncle Sam had come into my room. He said he wanted to celebrate with me. I was surprised he had a key to my room; I had hugged my wrapper tighter to cover the transparent part of my gown. Uncle Sam had smelt of beer that night; he put his hands on my chest and I saw him smile in my dimly lit room. I had no words coming out of my mouth no matter how hard I tried to speak up. Inside I was screaming, I wanted to kick and push him away from me. Uncle Sam pushed me onto the bed and told me I was just like my Aunt. He called her a mute. I screamed so loudly that he hit me. He hit me repeatedly and forced himself on me.
I slipped in and out of consciousness that night and woke up at precisely 2 PM the next day. The was the first thing I checked. I believed I had a very horrible dream until I saw the bloodstains on my bed. My whole body had been covered in bruises, and my legs could no longer carry the weight of my body.
I saw a white paper lying on the bed, and I picked it up to read inquisitively: SHUT UP OR LOSE YOUR ADMISSION. These words were written in bold on the paper. I looked around the room in fear before breaking down in tears wondering what I had done to deserve such wickedness. When evening time came, I had the strength to wash my stained bed sheet and take a hot shower. I scrubbed myself thoroughly, grateful that I could not remember anything that happened the previous night. However, I still felt dirty, and no matter how much I tried to scrub off the dirtiness from the previous night, it felt like I only made things worse. I also tried to eat, but my body refused the meal I had prepared, and I threw up.
Afraid and feeling alone for the first time in my life, I decided to go into the room that my Aunt had always called her thinking room. It was a spacious white room with piles of books on a shelf and a very long sofa. I had felt my aunt’s presence as I settled on the sofa. I began to cry again as I realised that she was not coming back. I walked towards her bookshelf and ran my hands through her collection of books. As I did this, I noticed a book I was not familiar with and pulled it out. It was a brown book with no inscription on the cover.
I flipped through the first two pages and discovered it was my aunt’s journal. I began to read each page as I digested how Uncle Sam had abused my Aunt ever since her first miscarriage. She was scared he would kill her, but she decided to remain in the marriage. She had written many nice things about me and expressed how much she loved me. The last day she had written in her diary was the day she died. It was as if she had known she was going to die. She also wrote about her dreams and things she wished she had done differently.
I then heard the front door open. I quickly hurried to my room, hoping to block the door with a chair so Uncle Sam would not be able to come in. He, however, beat me to it and barged inside my room like a bull. He beat me until I lost consciousness and kept repeating that I needed to be punished. My only relief was that I hid my Aunt’s journal before I blacked out.
This was why I planned on jumping out of the house through the window; it was my only means of escape. I knew I had to leave this house filled with sadness, and as I jumped, I thought of my Aunt once more and how I wished she could jump with me. I ran out of the compound as fast as my legs could carry me and never once looked back.
Read – Rain _ A Short Story by Osemudiamen Omondiagbe, Nigeria
