Scarlet Baptism

He heaved one last time, and moaned in pleasure, sweat drenched torso, and he slapped my breasts one last time. He pulled up his trousers and I heard him zip up. I held my mouth shut with my hand, grabbed what was left of my torn clothes and covered myself. I cowered into a feotal position. Tears streamed down my face.

I felt a sharp pain on my head and a loud snap, I screamed in agony, I felt where the pain had emerged from, my braids were gone, it was a bloody open wound, he laughed. He laughed uncontrollably. What was the joke? He had got what he wanted, why cause me more pain. I squirmed to the edge of the bed and fell to the ground. I moaned in pain.

“You liked that too?” he laughed, I heard a belt buckle. I froze, was he going to do it again? I was so tired, I was sore, I hated him, I hated myself, I needed a shower, a cleanse, bleach or even burn my entire body to rid myself of the shame, disgust.

I felt footsteps move from his side of the bed to mine, I couldn’t look up, I didn’t want to see it coming, couldn’t. The sharp pain on my head returned, I was moving? I felt cold move up and down my body, cold sweats dropping from my brow leaving a trail on the floor behind me. Where was I going now? Why? What did I do to deserve this?

I strong waft of liquor engulfed my face, stinging, burning, screaming at the top of my lungs. He was singeing my scalp with the liquor, the wounds, the pain, escalating, I felt dizzy, and then everything went dark. I felt some relief, I didn’t fight it. In the darkness I screamed, I clawed my way around. A scream, the darkness fades in to light, I look up, I see scarlet red, streaming down a bumpy chocolate countenance. The eyes bulged out of their sockets, mouth foaming, the nails, the hands familiar. I cringed, I felt pain, I felt wet, I could smell blood.

I panicked arose and inspected myself, my tattered frock was now soaked in crimson; it smelt of defecation, sewerage and raw eggs. I squirmed on the floor and rolled myself to the bathroom. I tugged at the door, it was locked, no answer, I went further squirming as I made my way to the hallway, a swarm of flies buzzed by. A woman was in a heap in the corridor. Was she asleep? She smelt of flatulence. She was cold, she was deaf, and she was stiff. There was blood oozing out of this woman’s ears and mouth.

I held my mouth with my bloody hand, where was I to go next? I got to the kitchen and there in his own blood my son sat upright against the cabinets nursing a knife in his chest, he was shivering and whispered. “Mum”, “Mum”, “Mum” The voice got fainter and fainter and in 5 minutes the boy was no more.

I wailed and fell face first it to his mighty arms. Where was everyone, would help never come?

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