The next morning, I awoke with a heavy heart, dreading the day ahead, knowing it would bring nothing but more suffering. Walking Zizipho to school, I clung to the memories of happier times when my smiles were genuine and my laughter was real, which is now a stark reminder of the forced facade I now wear.

As I waved goodbye to Zizipho, the weight of our desperate situation intensified. Escaping from that dreadful house always felt like an impossible dream, and I don’t know where we would go if we were to run away, where we could find a safe place to hide ourselves, away from the torment that I have been facing at home.

My heart pounded in my chest when I spotted my uncle standing at the gate. When I rounded the corner, an overwhelming sense of fear started gripping me. “Go inside and make me breakfast,” his stern command left no room for argument.

Protesting, I mumbled, “I will be late for school,” but my uncle’s harsh retort shattered my hopes, “And who said you will be going to school?” I felt utterly helpless, unable to find the right words to challenge him.

His unyielding gaze bore into me as he exerted his control, “You will no longer be going to school. Instead, you will stay in this house, behave like a good girl, clean, cook, and serve me.” His words cut deep as a blade that is cutting into the skin, making me feel worthless and confined.

“I am the one who is taking care of you and that little brat whom you call your sister; this is how you should be thanking me,” he stated.

Stunned into silence, I watched as he walked away, retreating into the house. School had been my only respite, a brief moment of freedom in the darkness of my life. Now, that small glimmer of hope I have kept close in my heart has been taken away from me just like that in just a blink of an eye.

Holding back my tears, I mustered the strength to enter the house and fulfil his demand for breakfast.

In my room, I caught sight of my neatly arranged school uniform, a painful reminder of a future that had been stolen from me. I threw it to the ground and collapsed on my bed, tears streaming down my face.

I longed for my grandmother’s presence, yearning for her protection and love. If only she were still here, none of this would have happened, and the crushing pain in my heart might have found solace. Her absence left an unspeakable void in my life.

This life is not the one I ever imagined. It is a story of darkness, not the tale I was raised to believe in. Overwhelmed by despair, I found the strength to clean the house, hoping to erase any reminders of my uncle’s cruelty.

But even in my attempts to escape mentally, my uncle’s menacing voice invaded my sanctuary. “See, this is what you should have been doing all along,” he sneered, barging into the house while I washed the dishes. I refused to meet his gaze, and my defiance earned me a sharp slap across my cheek, leaving it stinging and my eyes welling up with tears.

His words dripped with anger and disdain as he continued slapping me. As I fell down he started kicking me and pulled me back up and pulled down my underwear as he pinned me on the cold steel of the sink, and in an instant, I felt him push himself inside me. The pain, both physical and emotional, became unbearable as he forced himself on me. I felt completely powerless and broken.