PLEASE DON'T HIT ME

HER TEARS

after mummy left to prepare dinner for daddy I stayed in my room thinking of those time, when mummy would plead with daddy not to hit her,how daddy would lock mummy in my room leaving us to starve and die but mummy would always plead for daddy to release me so I can eat.

I heard it again

mummy crying and pleading with daddy not to hit her, she was beging and I just couldn't sit still,I ran out of my room to the kitchen and saw daddy hitting mummy with a belt

christiana go inside mummy said in tears and I just couldn't stand it I ran to mummy's and hugged her,the belt landed me.

I screamed so loud,no not out of pain but because this is what mummy have to endure for so long and I just couldn't do anything.

my scream made daddy stop,he left and told me next time you hear a noise and come out! you would have me dealing with you

I was late for school but daddy refuse that I go to school because of the scar his belt left on my shoulder.

inside my room with my mum she kept crying and apologising for allowing me go through this but I asked mummy

why you still dey this house?

mama nah everyday you go dey suffer because of marriage?

I asked as she just kept crying without any words

She sat on the edge of my bed, her wrapper loose around her waist, her hands shaking as she wiped her face over and over. I could see the red mark on her arm where the belt caught her. Her eyes were far away, like she was thinking of a place that didn’t exist anymore.

“Mummy, answer me now,” I pressed, my voice rising, “is it every day you will be suffering like this? Because of marriage? Because you don’t want people to talk?”

Her lips moved like she wanted to speak, but the words never came. Instead, tears rolled down her cheeks again.

I took her hand. “Mummy, me I’m small now, but I know this thing no be love. If somebody loves you, them no go treat you like this every time.”

She turned her face away from me. “Christiana, you are still young. You don’t understand… marriage is not easy.”

I shook my head. “Marriage no be prison. Marriage no suppose be where person dey fear every day.”

She let out a long sigh, like she was carrying something too heavy for her chest. “If I leave, where will I go? Who will take me and you? I have no money, no family to run to… everything I have is here.”

Her words sank into me like cold water. I hated that she was right, but I hated even more that she believed she had no choice.

We sat there for a long time, not talking. I could hear daddy’s heavy steps moving around the parlour, the clink of his spoon inside his plate as he ate the dinner she had cooked. That sound made me feel sick.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept replaying the moment in the kitchen the sound of the belt, the way mummy’s body shook under it, and the sharp sting when it caught my shoulder. My scar was burning, but my heart was burning more.

In the morning, I dressed for school even though daddy had said I shouldn’t go. I told myself I would hide the scar under my uniform. But as I stepped into the parlour, he was already there, sitting with his newspaper.

“Where are you going?” he asked without looking up.

“To school,” I replied quietly.

He dropped the paper slowly and stared at me. “So you don’t hear what I say yesterday? Go and remove that uniform now.”

I froze. My legs felt heavy, my throat tight. Mummy came out from the kitchen holding a tray of tea. “Let her go,” she said softly.

He looked at her, his eyes hard. “You want me to allow her to go and be showing my disgrace to the whole school? Do you want people to be asking where she got that mark from?”

Mummy lowered her eyes. “Please…”

He stood up suddenly, and the sound of his chair scraping the floor made me flinch. “Remove it now!” he barked.

I went back to my room, my hands shaking as I took off the uniform. I sat on the bed, tears rolling down my cheeks. Mummy came in and sat beside me again. She hugged me tightly, her hand resting gently over the scar.

“Christiana, one day we will be free,” she whispered into my ear.

But I didn’t know if she believed it, or if she was just saying it so I would stop crying.

That afternoon, while daddy was out, I sat in the kitchen watching mummy wash plates. She was quiet, but her mind was far.

“Mummy,” I said suddenly, “I promise you… one day, I will make enough money, and we will leave this house. We will never come back.”

She stopped washing and looked at me for a long time, her eyes filling with tears again. “My child,” she said, “you are my only hope.”

I didn’t know how, but I made that promise to myself i would keep it.