The scars they left

The scars they left part 4

Part 4 — The Price of My Secret

Reverend Jeremiah gave me ₦10,000 to go for the scan.

I took the money, but my hands were trembling.

As I walked to get the scan, my mind was filled with questions.

What if the pregnancy was still there?

What if something had gone wrong?

What if I had to go through everything again?

I tried to convince myself that everything would be fine.

I just wanted the nightmare to end.

After getting the scan, I returned and handed the result to the nurse.

She looked at it quietly.

She didn't say anything at first.

I watched her face carefully, waiting for some kind of good news.

Then she finally looked up at me.

"You'll have to repeat the process."

My heart dropped.

"What?"

"You'll have to repeat it."

That was all it took.

I burst into tears.

I couldn't imagine going through those terrible pains again. I had already been frightened by what happened the first time, and now I was being told that I had to face it all over again.

The nurse told me to wait while she went to the pharmacy.

I sat there crying.

Every minute felt like an hour.

I kept asking myself why I had allowed my life to get to this point.

Eventually, the nurse returned with the medication.

The process was repeated.

When it was over, I left.

This time, I didn't go back to my choir mistress's house.

I went straight home.

Thankfully, my brothers had already gone to meet my mother at the shop.

For a moment, I felt relieved.

I thought I would be able to rest.

I thought maybe the worst was finally behind me.

I was terribly wrong.

The Night I Thought I Was Going to Die

A few hours passed.

Then the pain started.

At first, I tried to stay quiet.

I told myself it would pass.

But the pain kept getting worse.

I changed position.

I tried lying down.

Nothing helped.

Then the bleeding became extremely heavy.

Fear immediately took over me.

I started shouting.

"Help me!"

My voice echoed through the house.

I screamed again.

"Somebody help me!"

But there was nobody inside.

I tried to get up.

My body felt weak.

I tried reaching for my phone.

It was nearby, but somehow it felt impossibly far away.

I stretched my hand toward it.

I couldn't reach it.

I tried again.

Nothing.

I had almost no strength left.

I sat there, terrified, wondering whether anyone would hear me.

Then I heard something outside.

Knocking.

Someone had heard me.

"Hello!"

I couldn't answer properly.

The knocking became louder.

"Open the door!"

"What's happening inside?"

I tried to shout again, but my voice was barely audible.

The neighbors became more alarmed.

They started calling my mother and my brothers.

I could hear their voices outside.

Then suddenly...

BANG!

The door shook.

I realized they were trying to break it down.

Another loud bang.

BANG!

I was too weak to move.

I closed my eyes and prayed.

God, please don't let me die here.

Then the door finally gave way.

The neighbors rushed inside.

When they saw me, they immediately realized how serious the situation was.

They didn't waste time.

They carried me out and rushed me to the hospital.

Everything around me became a blur.

The voices.

The movement.

The fear.

The hospital lights.

I could barely keep my eyes open.

The Hospital

The doctor examined me immediately.

I was extremely weak and dehydrated.

They started an IV drip and began treating me.

I remember lying there thinking about my mother.

What am I going to tell her?

What will she think of me?

I was scared of the pain.

But I was even more scared of facing my family.

The next morning, I opened my eyes.

The first thing I saw was my mother.

My brothers were there too.

They were standing around my bed, staring at me.

Nobody was smiling.

Their faces were filled with worry, anger, disappointment, and confusion.

My mother came closer.

"My child... how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I whispered.

But I wasn't.

I tried to turn.

That's when I realized I couldn't move freely because a catheter had been placed to help me pass urine.

I became quiet.

Then my elder brother spoke.

"Who got you pregnant?"

I froze.

I didn't answer.

He asked again.

"Who got you pregnant?"

His voice was louder this time.

I still couldn't speak.

My mother immediately stood up.

"Please, calm down. She's already suffering."

I started crying.

I couldn't look at them.

My mother's face broke my heart.

She looked exhausted.

She had spent years taking care of me, protecting me, and trusting me.

And now she was sitting beside my hospital bed watching me suffer.

Another Procedure

While we were still talking, the doctor came to examine me.

Afterward, he explained that I needed another procedure called ERPC because there were still retained products inside my womb.

My mother asked him what that meant.

He explained that the remaining tissue needed to be removed to prevent further complications.

My mother's eyes filled with tears.

She looked at me.

"My child..."

Her voice trembled.

"Look at the pain you are causing yourself."

I couldn't hold back my tears.

I wanted to tell her everything.

I wanted to tell her who was responsible.

But fear held my words inside my mouth.

Soon, the nurses came to take me to the theatre.

My heart started pounding.

As they pushed my bed down the hallway, I stared at the ceiling.

Everything suddenly felt so serious.

I didn't know what was going to happen.

I just knew I was scared.

When I reached the theatre, they prepared me for the procedure.

The pain and fear became overwhelming.

I cried.

I screamed.

I had never experienced pain like that before.

Eventually, everything around me started fading.

The voices became distant.

The room became blurry.

And then...

I passed out.

"Thank You, God..."

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the ward.

For a few seconds, I didn't understand where I was.

Then I noticed the blood transfusion.

My heart skipped.

"This is serious."

A frightening thought entered my mind.

I could have died.

I silently thanked God for keeping me alive.

My mother and my brother were sitting beside me.

My mother leaned closer.

"My child, how are you?"

I nodded weakly.

"I'm fine."

But inside, I was far from fine.

I was physically exhausted.

Emotionally broken.

And terrified of what would happen when I finally went home.

Then the hospital bill arrived.

I looked at the amount.

₦270,000.

My mother stared at the bill.

Her eyes widened.

"Ah!"

She started crying.

"Where will I get this kind of money?"

She held the bill in her hands, looking completely helpless.

Then she turned toward me.

"My child, please..."

Her voice broke.

"Tell me who got you pregnant. Maybe he can help us with something. I don't have this kind of money."

I looked at my mother.

She was crying because of me.

For the first time, the secret felt heavier than ever.

I had spent so much time being afraid of telling her the truth.

But now, she was sitting right beside my hospital bed, begging me for an answer.

I lowered my eyes.

My heart was beating faster and faster.

There were names in my head.

Two names.

Two men.

And one terrible secret.

I knew that whatever I said next could change everything.

Should I finally tell my mother the truth?

TO BE CONTINUED...