When Love visits Again

Running Away

I stood frozen, not daring to take my eyes off the worn out carpet as my father's tirade continued. It seemed as if the words never stopped, washing over me in a wave of shame and condemnation. Finally, his voice faded away, and I heard the echo of his footsteps as he left the room.

For a moment, I dared to hope that it was over. But then, he returned, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. "You've embarrassed us, brought shame to the Church we lead, what would the whole community think of us," he said, his voice cold.

"You'll have to go stay with your aunt Carol at her farm until that thing is ready to be taken off to the foster homes. You know our beliefs," he added, almost as an afterthought.

The words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of me. I struggled to make sense of them, my mind reeling from the thought of being sent away, of being thrown out like a common criminal.

When my father left the room again, I stumbled to my bedroom, the numbness of shock giving way to disbelief. How could this be happening?

I threw myself onto my bed, the familiar scent of fabric softener from my sheets offering no comfort this time around. I let out a slow, shaky breath as I fixed my eyes on the ceiling.

Aunt Carol. I shuddered at the thought of her. She was a formidable woman, stern and unyielding, with a keen eye for any perceived weakness. I felt chills down my spine at the memory of my previous visits to her farm, where she had treated me like a servant, making me do the most menial of tasks while she watched with cold, unblinking eyes.

Regardless of how much I protested against visiting her, I never won, instead mom always tried comforting telling me that Aunt Carol loved me, just that she was of a different generation, one that was raised military style.

I knew my father was aware of her treatment of me. Perhaps that was his intention all along—to send me to someone who would break my spirit, to ensure that I would never forget my sin.

The tears came then, hot and bitter, as I buried my face in my pillow. This was not the life I had imagined for myself, not the future I had dreamed of. It was as if everything I knew, everything I was, had been swept away in the blink of an eye, replaced by a future that was bleak and uncertain.

I've been working very hard as a waiter the whole year saving to pay for my college fees, so I could become a lawyer. But now I wasn't sure anymore.

The sound of my own sobs was deafening in the silence of my room. Each breath was laced with a fresh wave of pain, each moment a reminder of the new reality that awaited me.

Eventually, the tears dried up, leaving me numb and empty. I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling once more, my mind racing with questions that had no answers. What should I do? How can I change the fate of my unborn baby?

As the evening light began to fade from my bedroom window, I found myself unable to move, to plan, to think. All I could do was wait, trapped in my own despair.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, each hour dragging by like an eternity. Finally, the sound of my mother's footsteps approached, soft and hesitant. I didn't move, my eyes still fixed on the ceiling as she entered the room.

"Kiara," she said, her voice hesitant. "Are you alright?”

I didn't answer her, my silence more damning than any words I could have said.

She approached the bed, sitting down beside me, her hand gently resting on my arm. "Your father is just... He's angry, sweetheart. He's not thinking straight. He doesn't mean what he said."

I turned to face her then, the unshed tears in my eyes betraying the composure I was trying to maintain. "Why can't he just give me a chance, Mom? How could he just send me away like that?”

My mother sighed, her hand tightening on my arm. "I don't know, Kiara. He's never been one to forgive easily. He's more like your aunt Carol. But I'll talk to him, okay? I'll try to make him see reason."

Her words were kind, but I could hear the uncertainty in her voice. How could she change his mind? He was determined to punish me, to cast me out like some kind of outcast.

"And what about Aron?" I asked, my voice rising. “Why isn't he being punished too?”

My mother shifted uncomfortably beside me, her hand moving to rest on her lap. "Kiara, it's not as simple as that. Aron is... He's respected in the community. He and his fiancé have a lot influence. People will believe their side of the story."

Her words only served to anger me more. "So what? That makes it okay? That makes it okay for him to hurt me like this, to ruin my life?"

"Of course not, sweetheart, but we have to face the reality," my mother said, her fingers twisting around each other in an anxious dance. "I suggest you follow your father's orders and move to your aunt's farm tomorrow morning.

Try not to get on her bad side. In the meantime, I'll keep trying to convince your father to bring you back home and reconsider his decision about the baby."

At this point I knew she was never going to win this argument against Dad. And I felt so bad for putting her in this situation.

The silence that followed was deafening, a heavy weight pressing down on both of us.

As my mother rose to leave, I clutched her hand, my eyes pleading. "Mom, please," I whispered. "You have to make him understand. You have to make him see that this is wrong."

She squeezed my hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'll try, Kiara. I promise I'll do everything I can." With that, she left, closing the door softly behind her.

I lay back on the bed, the ceiling blurring as tears began to stream down my face. I couldn't stay and wait for Dad's orders. I couldn't let him dictate my life anymore.

In a flurry of movement, I reached for my phone, my fingers dancing over the screen as I searched for flights out of the city. There was no time to lose. I had to get away, to start a new life where no one knew my name, where I could raise my child in peace.

My savings were meager, but it would have to do.I didn't even have a specific destination in mind. I booked a ticket for the next available flight, a one-way journey that would take me far away from the only home I had ever known.

With a knot of fear in my stomach, I packed a small bag with a few essentials and crept through the darkness of my family home, making sure not to disturb my parents.

As I made my way to the bus station, I couldn't help but glance back at the familiar streets, at the places that had shaped me into the person I was. The place I always knew as home. But there was no time for sentimentality. I was leaving all of that behind, going on a journey with no clear destination.

The bus ride was a blur of passing scenery, the rhythm of the wheels on the road matching the frantic beat of my heart. I was numb to the world around me, consumed by the realization that my old life was over.

Finally, I arrived at the airport, a cold place that seemed to add more to the silence in my mind. As I made my way through security, imposter-syndrome kicked in and I felt like a vulnerable girl playing at adulthood in a world she didn't understand at all.

Boarding the plane, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. The safety demonstration was a welcome distraction, the polite, monotonous voice of the flight attendant providing a reassuring sense of order amidst the chaos in my mind.

As the plane took off, lifting me into the sky, I couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom.