It was Sunday morning and my family and I were preparing for church. I was dressing when I felt sudden sharp pains in my chest. I fell down and yelled out for help.

“Mama! Mama! Yiza ngapha (come this side).”

Later that day I woke up in hospital with my parents and grandma sitting beside my bed. I asked my mother to take me to the loo. As she was attempting to lift me up from the bed I couldn’t feel my legs.

“My legs! My legs! Mama! Mama!” I cried out.

A doctor rushed in and pleaded with me to calm down. My grandma instructed us to hold hands and pray. When I closed my eyes I saw a baby crying tears of blood, and the baby was in a pool of blood. I knew it was the baby I aborted when I was 13 years old.

My family finished praying and I pleaded for them to leave because I wanted to be alone. A few minutes later, a tall, pale-looking male nurse came into my room. He held my hand.

“It is not your fault my child, you had no choice but to listen to them. Tell people the truth and you shall be free,” he said.

“How did you know?” I asked in a quivery voice. He looked at me and left without saying a word. I was terrified and shocked. I covered myself with a blanket and I cried myself to sleep.

The next day my parents came to see me. My biological father passed away when I was four and my mother remarried. I think she did it because he was rich. The doctor came in and told us there was nothing wrong with me; he couldn’t find the cause of my sudden paralysis. My father ordered him to discharge me so that I could be taken to a specialist. The doctor went out with my father and I was left with my mother.

“Mama, the baby you forced me to abort five years ago is haunting me. Whenever I close my eyes I see a crying baby,” I wept.

“Do you want my husband and I to go to jail? Who will pay for your expensive school fees, therapy, trips and designer clothes?” she answered furiously.

“Mama, this secret is draining me, ever since I did that my soul has not known peace. You should help me to open a case against him when he forced himself on me for the first time,” I said.

“Nomathemba he apologised for that mistake,” was my mother’s response.

“Mama this man has raped me countless times. Whenever he’s drunk he beats us up. He is the one who suggested that illegal abortion. You call that a mistake?”

I covered myself with a blanket after that. My father came back with a doctor who discharged me. When we arrived home, there were church members. My mom called them when we were still at the hospital and told them that I had demons and I was hallucinating too. They prayed for me and afterwards I went straight to my room, locked myself up, and cried.

My father knocked, he was actually banging on the door. He managed to open the door. He uncovered me and gave me a dirty smile.

He said, “It won’t hurt, besides I doubt you will feel it, after all you’re paralysed. He opened my legs roughly, took my bikini off with his teeth, andpenetrated me roughly.”

Tears fell from my eyes. I didn’t even bother to cry out loud. I knew mom would never come to the rescue.

After he was satisfied he left me there bleeding. I dragged myself to the drawer; I found a blade and a pair of scissors. I cut my face with the blade. I was so numb I couldn’t even feel much of the pain. Finally, I stabbed myself in the stomach with the scissors.

***

Tell us: Do you believe that Nomathemba’s mom is responsible for her daughter’s suffering?