Written By Maureen Wambui - I'm obsessed with baking. Facebook : @maureen.wambui2
I doubt you hear them, getting ever closer. Today must have been a good day. You got to do all your favourite things - have a drink or many with the boys, watch a game and spend time with your punching bag. I'm sorry; I meant spent time with your lovely wife.
How many times have I told you ' I'm sorry' over the years? Paying for your mistakes and your twisted view of the world? I became a parrot, taught just two words. Words that were the difference between sleeping under the bed or sleeping outside like a dog. Words that were the difference between sleeping on an empty belly and getting a glass of water and a piece of stale bread to tide me over. It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic.
Why did I let this go on for so long? This is the question I keep coming back to over and over again. I could say it was because I love you, but you beat that out of me. I have no other explanation for it. A coin flipped from one day to the next. Why did no one else see this monster, this imitation of a human being cloaked in a tar black aura?
You weren't always like this. Can you even remember? I wasn't always like this. Can you even remember? In those early days I would fall asleep asking myself why you seemed so interested in me. I was plain; I had no family, no money prospects and no connections. But you... when you walked into a room, women sat up straighter and men gave you their seats. Being with you was like being the third wheel on a date between you and your adoring public.
Maybe I should have noticed something was not right even then, but I was so desperate to belong. Maybe I was too eager to please; too willing to mold myself into the shape you wanted. Knowing what I know now, that must have called to you like a siren song.
Do you know that I believed you the first time when you said it was all an accident and it wouldn't happen again? That was three years ago. I ended up on the floor, saying sorry, through a mouthful of blood and broken teeth, for something you'd done to me.
How did you do it? What sort of sorcery was this that you had me under? Do you know I used to count the minutes till your return home so that I could make myself scarce? How did you always manage to find me? As you beat me, you would also hold me and tell me you love me. As you broke me some more, you would beg me not to leave. Like a tape set on rewind, we would go through the same motions tomorrow.
I guess you got numb. You no longer needed a reason to paint me black and blue. You didn't really care what you took. Well, congratulations. You took everything from me. I hope that makes you feel proud of yourself.
Are you finally happy, I wonder.
They're at the door now. I can see your eyes slowly fight gravity and open. You give me a bleary eyed stare, but before you can speak they break open the door.
Let them see you, tall and handsome with bloodshot eyes, torn and dirty clothes and bloody and swollen knuckles. Let them see me huddled in the corner in a pool of my own blood, with one black eye and a swollen jaw. Let them see the pattern of my blood when I crawled over to you when you were out of it, and took your phone to call for help.
I hope they take you away forever. I can feel your eyes on me. Good. Look at the phone in my hand. Look at our child on the floor. Our precious and innocent child.
How dare you look at me like I've done something wrong! Did you think I would never tell, that I would be afraid forever? You shouldn't have taken everything.
I've heard it said that love is blind; I didn't know it was supposed to be dumb and deaf also.