Run away bride: should I trust him?

My name is Milondo Annabelle Takalani. I am the only daughter of my parents. People think being an only daughter means you are spoiled. That you get all the love, all the attention. For me, it just meant all the burden fell on me alone. We are from a poor background. Not the kind of poor that people romanticize in stories — the "we had nothing but we had love" kind. No. The kind where you check the maize meal bucket every morning and pray there is enough for tomorrow. The kind where debt collectors know your surname. The kind where sickness doesn't just make you sick, it bankrupts you. My dad is in deep debt. I don't even know how much anymore because the numbers keep changing. One day it's R20,000, the next day it's R35,000 because of interest. He borrowed to try and start a small taxi business. The taxi broke down. The business died, but the debt lived. And my mom. My mom is sick. She has been coughing for six months. The clinic in Tshidimbini gave her pills, but they said she needs to go to the big hospital in Thohoyandou for proper scans. We don't have money for the hospital. We don't have money for transport to get to the hospital. So she just sits at home, getting thinner, her eyes getting bigger in her face, trying to smile when I look at her. Which led to my current situation. They want me to marry a thug. All in the name of saving the family. "It's for the sake of the family," they said. Like that sentence is supposed to fix everything. What about my happiness? My safety? I guess nobody cares. Nobody asked for my permission. That is what hurts the most. I was not in the room when they decided my life. I was outside washing dishes when my mother called me in. My father was sitting with his head in his hands. My uncle was there, smelling of cheap beer even though it was only 10am. And there was another man I didn't know, wearing a shiny suit. "Milondo, sit," my father said. I sat. "Mr. Arjun has agreed to help us," my father said, not looking at me. "He will clear all our debt. He will pay for your mother's treatment at a private doctor. He will even fix the roof. In return..." In return I would marry him. My uncle is a drunkard so he can't be of help to me. He is my father's younger brother, and he lives with us because his wife chased him away. He is the one who brought Arjun to our house. I later heard he was paid R2,000 just to make the introduction. He sold me for R2,000. Days for the 'marriage' are approaching very fast but I haven't found a solution to this dilemma. If Aunt Huli was alive she would definitely stand up for me. Aunt Huli was my mother's sister. She was the only one in this family who had a loud voice. She died last year from the same sickness my mother has now. I think about that a lot. If she couldn't survive it, how will my mother survive it without a hospital? Hmm, life can change so much in a year. We can become helpless much faster than how we find our true voices. Last year at this time I was in Grade 12, dreaming of going to UNIVEN to study teaching. I wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to wear a nice dress and teach little kids how to r******w I am a bride for sale. Arjun is what his friends call him. He is a Nigerian man in our neighborhood. He is not even that old, maybe 34, 35. But a man who everyone in the neighborhood fears. When he walks past, mothers call their children inside. The spaza shop owners give him things for free because they are scared. Even the police don't have much evidence to arrest him for all his crimes, or they pretend they don't. I believe there's someone helping him from inside the law. Well who cares what I think? My opinion has never mattered in this house. The man is here for lobola negotiations. Everything is happening so fast that my head is spinning. I can't possibly get married to this person. Today is that day. I woke up and heard my mother trying to sweep the yard, even though she can barely breathe. My father was wearing his one good shirt, the one with a missing button. And my uncle was already shouting. "Anani!! Your in-laws are here to see you!" my drunk uncle shouts. That is all I've been hearing for the past 10 minutes now. Anani. Anani. my English name is 'Annabele' infact 'anani' is not even English.But anyways the way he shouts it, its sounds like he is calling a dog. I am hiding in my small room. My room is not really a room, it's a curtain partition in the back. I can hear them through the curtain. I can hear Arjun's voice. He has a deep voice, heavy with accent. "Where is my beautiful wife?" he says, and they all laugh. My father's laugh sounds like he is choking. There is no way I am going to meet that good for nothing thug. My phone vibrates. It's my friend, Rendani. Rendani: _Girl, have you seen them? His car is outside. A real Fortuner! You are lucky!_ Lucky? She thinks I am lucky. I text back: _If you want him, come and take my place._ She replies: _Yoh, you are ungrateful. Many girls want this. You will be rich. No more suffering._ Well my friend thinks this is a life changing opportunity but I beg to differ. It's my lifelong dream to marry for love, not material things. I have always dreamt of a small wedding, not because a man paid off my father's debt. I dreamt of a man who looks at me like I am a person, not a receipt. I have to find a way to escape this. I look at my window. It's small, but I can fit. Outside is the bush path that leads to the main road. If I run now, where will I go? I have R150 hidden in my school textbook. That's it. I have no other relatives. My mother will cry. My father will be beaten by Arjun's people if I run. But if I stay, I will die inside. I know it. That man... I have heard stories. Girls he dated before. One girl had to run away to Johannesburg because he beat her so badly. Another one just disappeared. The police said she left on her own. Nobody believes that. The shouting gets louder. My uncle pulls my curtain open. "Anani! Are you deaf? Your husband is waiting!" He is drunk, his eyes red. He grabs my arm. His grip is tight. "I said come!" I look at my mother's face behind him. She is standing in the doorway of the main house, her hands holding her chest. She is not stopping him. She is not saying anything. Her eyes are begging me. Is she begging me to come, or begging me to forgive her? I don't know. I have five minutes to decide. The lobola negotiations are happening right now. My life is being negotiated like a bag of tomatoes at the market. I have to find a way to escape this. I have to.