It had all been too good to be true. One evening, Lunga came back home drunk, and he had his favourite brandy bottle in his hand. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a jersey, and he was dragging his work bag.

“Stupid wife!” Lunga shouted, gulping down his bottle. He was sweating, and I felt immense fear. The kids were sitting at the table in the kitchen, and they were witnessing everything as it happened. “You’re Stupid!” he shouted, wiping his mouth with the palm of his hand. “You bore me two boys, but you’re still stupid! You’re carrying my third child, stupid!”

When Lunga was done shouting, he staggered towards me, then he slapped me so loud, I almost mistook it for a gunshot. I flew over the kitchen counter. My boys started screaming, and I looked over to them.

“Go to bed,” I said to the boys, so Vuyo picked up Owethu and ran upstairs. They were both crying, so I stood upright. “Dinner is ready,” I said to Lunga, smiling.

While I was speaking, another slap landed on my face, then a fist. The fists kept coming, and Lunga was swearing, laughing, and pouring his brandy on me while he beat me. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Vuyo holding a golf stick. His father was beating my face, not my body, because he did not want to harm the child.

“No, Vuyo!” I shouted as he raised the golf stick and hit his father on the back of his neck.

As soon as the gold landed on his neck, Lunga fell and his bottle broke. Vuyo was angry, and there were tears in his eyes. I hugged him as he sobs. After a while, I checked Lunga’s pulse, and it was still there. I then dragged him to the sofa and let him sleep there. That night, Vuyo slept with me.

“Is he dead? Am I going to jail?” Vuyo asked, crying.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s just knocked out,” I responded.

“I was just tired of listening to you cry,” Vuyo said, and I kiss his forehead and I put my arms around him until we both fell asleep.

**********

The following morning, I woke up and did the hygienic process. After that, I went downstairs. I was not going to go to work, and my kids were not going to go to school, especially not after what they had seen the night before. Lunga was just waking up when I walked into the living room, and he was holding his head.

“My head feels too heavy for my body,” Lunga said as I prepared breakfast.

My face was bruised, and no amount of make-up could cover the scars. After waking up, Lunga came to me. “What happened? Your face, where we robbed?” he asked.

I almost laughed in response, but I just shook my head instead. Lunga then walked upstairs to take a bath. When he was gone, the boys come downstairs for breakfast. As the four of us sat at the glass table, eating, I saw and felt the fear Owethu now had for his father, and he even cried when Lunga tried feeding him. Vuyo’s eyes, on the other hand, had hatred when he looked at his father, and I knew he had reached a breaking point.

***

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