Roseline

There was neither pain nor pleasure, just humiliation. He laid atop me panting and pounding away. He'd been at it for the last hour.

He'd taken to taking Bura ntashi before coming to do his thing. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was bruised and sore but who cared. I laid there till he was spent. He took his boxers and padded out. It took all my strength to stand up. I could not walk properly or wear undies for the next couple of days. He gave me room to recover. Lola did not. Lola is devious. She comes on to me when everyone is away. Sometimes, I am able to fight her off, other times I fail. At times she'd slip into my room late at night, knock me half unconscious with anaesthetics and have her way. She knew how to adapt. Like her father's, I did not enjoy her ministrations. I did not want to contemplate Madam. She was mean and spiteful. I could never please her. I suspect her forebears would turn in their graves if she was even a little nice to me.

I turned on the tepid water, and wished, as it ran down my body, that it would wash away the contamination and this train of thoughts that had only one terminus - depression. How many 17 year olds had to go through these? For the second time in 38 hours I allowed the pimply-faced, nerd whose breath would slay a dragon to have his way. The first was to assure him I meant the yes I said to his 5 month old bumbling wooing. This, was payment for the Strychnine he'd gotten me from the chemistry lab where he worked as an assistant. I switched my mind from him to grave matters. I stepped out of the bathroom to find Lola leaning against the wall, eyes boring through me. Something snaps inside of me, I advance towards her. She backs away and then laughs nervously - to mask fear?

I sauntered past her into the room. It was about time something gave. As usual, I made dinner. As usual, I dished and served. I gave everyone an extra helping of soup. Lola preferred as little soup as possible. Well, she was going to have to make an exception this time.

I retrieved the bowl containing my soup, ladled before everyone else's, from the oven and left the kitchen. I was to eat with them today - the second time since my aunt brought me from the village to serve them. Mrs Daniel had an announcement. She would no longer travel as much. She had been made regional manager and moved from asset acquisition to human resources.
"Hey!" That was me.
"Ma?"
"Get me meat!" I complied with alacrity.

Back in the dining room, I sat demurely and resumed eating. I surreptitiously glanced at the trio concentrating on eating. I smiled - a cross between Mona Lisa's and Mother Teresa's. At varying instances, pain fleetingly registered on their faces. The smile became a smirk.

It was just a matter of minutes. Which was sad; all things considered.

Mr Daniel died first. But before the light in his eyes extinguished, comprehension registered in their depths.
"You..." He'd probably finish it on the other side.
"Me." I acquiesced.
I faced the other two thrashing in death throes.
"You are evil, the whole lot of you. I regret I did not do this before you wrecked my life."
I watched awe and consternation battle risus sardonicus on their visages as they gave up. I have never been more elated. Or more empty.

I turned away. Destination: my mother's maternal home. It was totally remote; I'd be safe there.

A few paces later, an intense muscle spasm hit my neck. A dozen more steps and I fell to the ground, convulsing. Lola. My soup had seemed larger when I returned from running that errand. So this was curtains? I closed my eyes and smiled at the irony of it.

© John Chidi 2015

Share: