Scarred

My throat feels sore again.
If you ask me why is that, I’ll probably tell you it’s from shouting a lot while playing with Adamma and her sisters.

I can’t feel my legs,
I walk with my thighs clenched now.
With my waist sore,
And my laps bleeding with exhaustion.
I can’t sit down or stand without feeling the pains in there.

I could find comfort in the coldness of room,
Where the darkness will become my friend
And the silence will be my greatest companion.
But that’s where and what I fear the most.
Because that’s when and where he will creep in, with his black tie tangled in his hand, always the left one.

“Uncle Jide, what are you doing here?” I asked, just like I always do, “Uncle Jide, please it’s late. I have to sleep.”

But uncle Jide will be quick to tie my mouth,  silencing my voice in the roughest way possible. He would continue to tie my legs and hands, so I wouldn’t touch him or show any sign of defence.
He said it will make me look submissive, he’s submissive.
Should I scream ? Well, my words are driven back to my mouth.

Should I fight back? My energy is broken and shattered till its lifeless.

My body is tortured. He has dotted them black and blue with his lips, hands and his most precious intimate friend.

The next day,
Uncle Jide will dress for work,
Wearing his tie. That same tie that introduced me to helplessness.
He will play with the kids,
Greet the elders, my father included.
Then give me that pointed look,
I know what it says, “Open your mouth and your life will be shattered before you.” It’s his motto.

Should I talk? My heart pounds with fear and the words dies out.

Uncle Jide, I hope you’re happy.
You have stripped me off, of my most priceless treasure.