“Stay! It’s not a bed of roses, He will change.” Their responses echoed in her head as she ponder how to come out of her delirium. She thought of going back to them to tell them her plights, pour out her heart to them for their help but even if she does, they wouldn’t see things from her perspective. They are her parents and they may be right with what they told her so she wouldn’t like to contradict their intuition.
On the outskirts, they knew him to be loving, caring and a responsible man who has her welfare at heart. They are oblivion of the fact that lions can wear ram’s clothen. Had she known he had a monstrous appearance under an innocent mask, she wouldn’t have entered a union with him or espoused him.
It wasn’t entirely her fault not to have known his true colours before walking down the aisle and tying the knot with him. She knew him to be gentle, humble, loving, caring, romantic and responsible. He would go to the moon and sun just for her. Her extreme love for him prevented her from seeing the hidden intentions, the noxious secrets and the beast in him. The magic of love worked on her that it blinded her eyes from seeing the other side. She knew the journey would not be a bed of roses but she never expected it to be just thorns throughout.
Upon several attempts to endure the piercing thorns, she had it to her throat. She ran back to them in a pool of tears and a weak soul that only seeks for an escape from the surface of the earth. She begged to flee, to call it off but though they felt her pain (somehow), they wouldn’t let her flee. They became adamant and instead, they sat her down and told her tales.
They vehemently explained from the ancient times, how her great grandmothers endured and had it successful, how her aunties went through same and even her mother’s ordeal. They failed to realize that her man was a different individual from a different world and he is not the same as the rest. What choice does she have if not just to respond in the affirmative of their decision?
For how long will she stay with a psychopath who bangs her like a door, punch her like a punch bag, wrestle her like an enemy and beats her mercilessly at any given opportunity?
When all failed with her parents, she brought her hope on her Man of God and Religious Leaders. She sorted for comfort from them but they also brazenly neglected her predicament and told her to “pray”. They held her hands and prayed with her on the day she came to them but they didn’t really consider the gravity of what she was going through, lest to take into account.
They didn’t also think about the many years and months she prayed in tears, her sore knees as an aftermath of her constant call on God, her silent whispers to God in the darkest part of the nights, her wailings, her constant mention at the Name of God when she is confronting him(the monster of a man).
They failed to notice all that and asked her to pray against the devil trying to spoil her marriage. They didn’t even organize a counseling session for both to fish out the truth. They asked her to bind all marine spirits and familiar spirits from her mother and father side against her marriage. She did all that fervently but to no avail. Could it be that God didn’t hear her or God was partial on her side? Or they just didn’t see reasons with her to flee from the toxicity of it all.
Who else could she tell when she can’t even trust a friend closer to her? All those she thought could help, asked to linger. She tried to follow their advices but it got worse. Just when she decided to leave, the society came at her with stigmatization and pointing fingers. They reminded her of dragging her family name in the mud. She was called a failure, and mocked in the highest degree. They criticized her for being selfish and loving herself instead of her children and family. Sadly, no man smiled at her. They ridiculed her for deviating from the societal norms. She was a depreciated commodity before men. When she imagined herself against the society, she decided to stay and endure silently.
The place she thought could be called home was nothing to write home about. She was just a caged bird who sings her sorrows to herself, entangled, her freedom ceased and she wears nothing but unhappiness.
That monster took a hold of her, doing whatever he likes to her, beating her, pouncing on her like a panther, smothering and snuffing life out of her. Where possibly could she go for her liberation when the world is against her? She was an embodiment of depression, frustration left her like a house with no foundation. She was dying silently until the beast decided to help matters by hitting her on the chest making her give up her ghost.
After leaving her mangled body behind, the world now realized the gravity of her wounds, the abyss of her sorrows, they came with their regrets, their stories of “Had I known” but of what use will it be now that she is gone? She had wished she went against the world and do what was best for her. She never wished same for a fellow instead she wished she had voiced it out and take the bull by the horn. She was a beautiful bloom swallowed in the gloom of a monster.
