Everything happened so fast; my mother didn’t really have the guts to let me know about the man who brought me into this world, as many men came and left.
When my mother brought another man into our home, I had already lost hope and didn’t want to get to know him, as I knew that he would also leave us. But as time went by, I began to like him as he was kind and generous, he gave me everything I needed. I even ended up calling him, “daddy”. I wanted to have someone, whom I could call my father.
My mother and I moved in with him. It was all sweet until he started abusing my mother. I would see my mother every morning with bruises and she would lie to me and say she fell during the night or hit a corner somewhere as she didn’t want me to know what was happening. I believed her and went on with my life as daddy was doing everything for me.
One night, I heard her scream. I could tell that something was wrong. I went to their room. It wasn’t locked. I found “daddy” beating her. My eyes couldn’t believe it, I didn’t know what to do. I tried to stop him but he pushed me over the wall and I hit it very hard. All I wanted to do was stop him because he was hurting the only person I love in my life. I don’t know what got into me, but I quickly went to the kitchen and took out a knife. I then went back to their room, as he continued beating her. I thought his intention was to kill my mother as I witnessed how he continued to beat her and kick her. I stabbed him and it killed him.
I didn’t mean to kill him, I just wanted him to stop hurting my mother. After killing him, I didn’t know what to do. I just laid over there crying trying to wake him up. My mother came to console me, believe me, I regretted what I had just done and the worst part was to find out that the man I had just killed was my biological father.
I couldn’t believe it. I blew the only chance that I had to have a father, but for a moment I didn’t regret what I had done, because he was abusing the only person that I cared about. I guess the neighbours heard the noise at our home because they all came to our house and knocked at our door.
My mother tried to cover for me and said, “boy tsamaya ka room’ong o ikhuhle. (Go into the other room).”
I didn’t do what she told me to, because I didn’t want my mother to go down for something she didn’t do. She went to the door and I was right behind her, but she didn’t see me as she thought I went to my room. She opened the door and pretended as if everything was fine, it was all okay until one neighbour saw me and noticed that I had blood on my hands, they started asking suspicious questions until my mother couldn’t take it anymore, she burst into tears.
“What is wrong?” they asked.
Another neighbour saw the trace of blood in our house and followed it until he got into the room where he was lying. He screamed and called everyone. I guess all of that led to me as I had blood on my hands. They called the police.
“No, it was me,” my mother said, trying to cover up for me.
But it was clear, everyone could see that I was the one who had killed my father. The police came and arrested me, it broke my heart as they handcuffed me, as I was only 12 years old, leaving my mother as I got into a police van. I could see my future falling apart, because of a man who was irresponsible. I could see that it broke her heart, as she laid there helplessly, with nothing to do to protect her 12-year-old son, besides cry for me. I didn’t believe it until I really noticed that I was going to prison. I was glad that I was going there for protecting someone I love.
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