He knocked. They kept quiet. He knocked again. He kept on knocking until it felt like he was about to break his fingers.
She asked in a shaky voice, “Who is it?”
The voice responded in a more harsh manner, “Who else would it be, of course it’s the owner of the house.”
She went to open the door as she already knew who was on the other side of the door. She was greeted with a fist across the face. As she tried to cover her face, a kick sent her flying onto a nearby room divider. All her favourite glasses came smashing onto the floor, not even feeling pity for her, the broken glasses cut deep through her palms as she tried to stand up.
Her first-born daughter was out with her friends that night, she was begged not to go but she said that she was tired of seeing her wretched mother’s face and she wanted to have some fun with her friends.
“He said that he won’t be coming home tonight, so don’t worry yourselves. He won’t hurt you and by the way I need to have some fresh air,” she said taking her bag and catching up with her friends.
“I am hungry I want food woman!” he demanded.
Her last-born daughter, who was two years younger than her older sister, was helping her mother pick up the vigorously blown transparent metal on the floor and wipe off the stained blood on the carpet. she washed her hands and wiped them with a clean cloth then prepared food for him. Her mother was crying silently while praying.
“Here’s the food,’ she told him. He was no longer craving the food, he was lusting for his daughter.
“You’ve fully grown now hey, yah I am such a great supporter, wow just look at those big and round buttocks,” he remarked while licking his mouth.
Raging with anger, her mother stood up for the first time, for the first time in 25 years of marriage with the monster, she finally stood up.
“I have had enough of your stinking attitude, you abusing me physically, verbally and emotionally. Why are you this horrible? I regret the day I said yes when you approached me. You disgust me, you had your friends take in turns with me, yet you say I am your wife what a gall you have. You claim that she is your daughter yet you look at her as if she is some kind of KFC drumstick. What kind of father are you?” she asked him screaming to the top of her lungs.
“Don’t you ever talk to me like that you you you…” he stammered. “What has gotten into you? You have never ever have spoken to me like this,” he said raising his fist to her.
“This is the last time you will ever lay your filthy hands on mom,” she said coming closer to her father.
Her father pinned her tiny body against the wall. With his masculine body and big hands he tried to unzip his trousers.
“I am going to teach you a lesson, I guess I never did see that you’re a woman huh.”
Her mom’s body was on the floor lying there lifelessly. She was so petrified, her heart was beating fast.
Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!
She got up and stabbed her husband with one of broken glasses that were sharp as a spear, cursing and spitting at him.
She hugged her innocent daughter and repeated her promise to her, “I will never allow anything bad happen to you and your sister as long as I am alive.”
She came home and found her daddy dead. Her mother and sister were wrapped around each other; she threw herself in their arms cried bitterly.
“I am so sorry mom, I am deeply sorry please forgive me, he is gone mom, he is gone. We will never be violated ever again.”
They heard a raspy cough they all jumped to their feet.
“Die you Satan’s heart,” she said stomping his face so hard with her stilettos leaving his face unrecognisable.
“You mistreated us; me, mom and my younger sister,” she said giving him one last stomp.
Tell us: What valuable lesson has this story taught you about abuse?