Chapter Two
1044 Words
Fear cuts deeper than swords
~George R.R. Martin~
Mia
There was a loud bang of a gunshot, a splintering sound so loud I was afraid it would wake the dead. Though I had never heard a similar sound before to recognize it, my fifth sense identified it as such. My heart thundered, palms sweating like it was water dripping down my hands, my mouth completely dry and my whole being shook, shivering as if from a cold, lying beneath my blankets in wait of what was to come.
At first, I thought it was robbers, but then again we lived in a dingy house with nothing except a fourteen inches television not worthy of firing a gun. I could hear a scuffle, heavy feet walking towards my bedroom, my grandmother was not home having gone to visit one of her church members sickly elder parent in the next village. I was alone, and that scared me more than I cared to admit.
I was afraid they might kill me or r**e me. I moved my hand, placing it on my heart and started praying, something I hadn't done voluntarily in a very long time. But just like every time I had prayed, God remained silent because suddenly, my body was hurled up violently from bed by two strong arms, shifted against a huge body of a man who reeked of cigarettes, beer, and dry sweat.
"Don't even think of screaming" He said with an accent I couldn't trace, wrapping a piece of cloth around my mouth, tightening his hands around me. While I had been scared before, now I was terrified. This man was carrying me out of the house. I was being kidnapped and I had no idea why.
Did they have me confused with someone else?
Was this a case of mistaken identity?
I couldn't ask because a filthy tasting cloth was wrapped around my mouth. The man carrying me grunted as he tripped over the mob that had fallen across the doorway, abruptly, unceremoniously placing me on my feet.
I stumbled, almost fell but another pair of hands grabbed me from behind, squeezing my bottom hard as he righted me. I felt violated and I squirmed, muffling under the cloth while the two men laughed cruelly.
Oh God, how many of these were there? Was I about to be gang-r***d and killed? Was I about to be part of that statistic?
'Get her in the truck" one of them said, and again I was hurled like a sack of potatoes and deposited inside an almost new double cabin that was parked just outside our gate. The gunshot must have woken a few of our neighbors because I could see a couple of houses with their lights on, yet nobody had the guts to walk outside.
I didn't blame any of them for not trying to rescue me, I wouldn't either if I was in their shoes. But as the truck drove off, with me barefoot and my heart in my throat I wondered if I will ever see this place again.
Will I ever see my grandmother again, my mom, Musa? Will he miss me? Will any of them miss me?
My life, no matter the outcome of this, would never be the same again. A mistaken identity- I was sure this is what it was - had just stolen my life. I watched as we drove through terrains of the hard rocked road to what our community refereed to as government stolen land. A vast virgin land tucked inside the undeveloped part of Mombasa Kenya like a dirty little secret which perhaps it was.
The car hit a pump without slowing, throwing my body sideways almost to the lap of one of the belly bulging mean guy sitting next to me. Luckily, I wore pajamas- green ones that my mother had sent me from Nairobi the year before last. They were oversize, covering me from head to toe; and for the first time, I appreciated her twisted sense of morality that extended to my dressing.
She, my mother, had become the product of my grandmother's sense of morality; the hypocritical kind. The one where she cowered and hid behind the church and bible scriptures trying to atone birthing me out of wedlock. Sometimes I thought her guilt was exactly what my grandmother sort, what she wanted in order to control her daughter. But that did not make me love my motherless, I loved her, unconditionally.
But as much as I loved her, I yearned for a mother who could stand up for me, protect me from the world's censure, and specifically from those who were meant to love me. Yet she stood aside and allowed grandmother to criticize, blame, and chastise me every chance she got.
The truck came to a halt, suddenly realizing that I had allowed my mind to wander off from the nightmare that I was currently facing.
I held my breath, waiting to find out what came next
"Get out," One of them said as he pulled the cloth off my mouth.
I shirked as I felt it forcefully graze steadily through my teeth.
"This is a mistaken identity" I offered, cowering in front of the two menacingly looking men.
"Look, I have no money. My mother has no money and if my grandmother had any, trust me she wouldn't use any of it to save me"
One of them broke out in laughter. Looking at me like I was amusing, slapping the other one on the back as if to persuade him to join in.
"We've got exactly who we came for"
He said it in a finality that demanded silence, going around the truck to pull out a black backpack before returning and shoving me backward.
"Walk!" He ordered and I did, out of self-preservation I started walking without asking where to. I figured it was towards the direction he'd shoved me to.
My feet hurt from walking barefoot, shrieking as I felt splinters poking beneath my feet.
- Writer
