I was only five years old when Daddy died, seven years old when Mom decided to follow him. Years went by and I couldn’t accept that fact, I used to cry myself to sleep. Just when I was about to accept that pain, my elder brother followed and things at home started to change.

I was living with my aunt and cousins, and my aunt would beat me with anything she found. I would do all the chores by myself. They would go out and have lunch while I was at home preparing supper for them.

I even failed my matric, I couldn’t take it any more. One day when they were out for lunch as usual, I packed all my belongings and ran away from home. I’ve been taking care of myself ever since.

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