Dark Hollow

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It has been so many years since the year Papa raised your skirt high above your waist whilst holding your hands above your head with his strong hands, a dark hollow sitting right in your heart. You shiver just remembering what had happened that very day no one both you and Papa were both home alone. You remembered you wriggled and tried kicking him but his weight paralysed your tender thighs. How your scream for help was washed by the heavy sounds of the rain hitting the corrugated roof where your nightmare stared directly at you in the afternoon. Boring its fangs into your chest, your heart threatening to burst you right open. You imagined how fast you could die if your heart fell at your palms; watching it beat with your lifeless body. You wouldn’t let this happen and you fought. It was a good fight but Papa’s heavy hand connecting with your face stopped you abruptly.

It came in split seconds and without you realizing how it happened you lost the fight. Though you knew Papa was not really your biological father you still felt disgusted and washed away the slimy thick liquid on your thighs that looked like akamu. When your dislike for akamu grew Aunty Amaka could not understand. You didn’t want to tell her that the disgust came from the day Papa forcefully had you, against your will.

You struggled to like that act. You pretended to enjoy the ritual when Emeka performed it. It was that disgusting afternoon where the rain bore witness to the sacrilege that had you uptight. You pitied Emeka. He didn’t deserve a wife who stayed lifeless during lovemaking. Who hated lovemaking and would feign a fever or a monthly flow to escape the act.

It has been five years since you poisoned Papa with rat poison mixed in the stew Aunty Amaka prepared for him. A smirk slowly crawls up on your face, nothing was sweeter than revenge.

You took a little amount and prayed it would serve him better. It did. It was you who contributed the most to give him a befitting burial. It was you who after all these years, can’t come eye with the act.

You are seated at Miss Rebecca Hampson’s desk for a therapy session. Emeka had encouraged you to attend. You would do anything for him. You know this is your last chance to forgive. Everything changed when a dark-skinned woman walked in from the door behind you with a mug in hand and a brown envelope; you were disappointed. You took your bag and walked out. She called out to you, her fruity voice in contrast to her huge frame. You waved your hands without turning back. Her offence was being dark-skinned like Papa.

Read another dark series story here: COLD FIRE: 1

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