A Naked Woman’s Purpose- Abuse

ABUSE
HER

February 19th 2013

Whimpering sounds. I could hear them.  Whipping sounds. I could feel them on me. The lashes hard, stroking my bared-back. For a while, I had become numb to the pain.

Then, he whipped my back one more time. The pain registered through this time. I broke down, laid flat on the ground and begged him to stop.

He did not.

Every lash became a memory, a new stored memory to drive out old ones. 

Three years. It had taken only three years for the fallacy of his self-righteousness to wear off. Three years was all I could recount as my marriage. Now I was not going to be among who remembered the past and held on to it. The past is in the past. I loved him, true.  Yet, I loved me too.
HIM 

February 14th 2000

Too hot. 

Too cold.

 Too warm. 

Too dark. No light! Retched! Dirty! Too clean! I hate it! 

Everything felt like this. Life had become a hollow of horrors. That was until I met her. 

How did she do it? What sorcery did she use? 

I wanted to make her mine. No, I want to make her mine. I want to strip away all identity she had and become one with my soul. 

And I have it all planned out.

She may not believe in fairytales but she’s about to be in one. One similar to the beauty and a reformed beast. 

Here she comes, the red dress tight on her bronze skin with her slender legs laid under by silver heels taking graceful steps towards me.

“Mr. Adewale”

God! I loved it when she called to me. What I will love more, is when everyone called to her in my name.
HER

February 20th 2015

“And they lived happily ever after”

Another fairytale book.

 Another 100pages of coated lies.

Another children’s book, completed. 

Whew! One less heartache to be concerned about. 

Do not get me wrong, I loved my job.  Working as an editor for one of Africa’s most recognized publishing firm was more than a girl could dream. I worked hard to be here. I loved what I had achieved so far. So, I may not have a kid and a loving husband waiting for me when I got home. So what? 

It took two years to build what I have patiently built for myself. Two years of pain. Two years of the constant “what ifs”. “What if I had stayed with him?””What if I had endured until the end?” “What if he had changed?”  Then again, what if I had died? “What if he hadn’t stopped?” 

Maybe I made the right decision. Maybe I did not. Despite it all, I know within myself that my happiness depended more on inner peace within my soul than a wretched wife to an abusive monster.
HIM

May 19th 2002

I lost it all. 

Her, the baby, our home. I lost it all.

She keeps looking at me. Her eyes keep tearing my soul apart. Tearing every shred of humanity, I had left. I was not God. God killed our baby, I did not. Why wouldn’t she stop crying? Why! 

Our marriage had been perfect. I had it all. The woman I owned. The home I ruled. My empire was established. 

Suddenly, a baby. Another little one, I had to share with my queen. I had no choice but to open up my love towards it. Our baby.

We were careful. I cooked. I cleaned. I made her worry for nothing. 

Again, a disaster. The doctor had said her body had been too weak. How could that be? How could her body be so weak? She did nothing! She worried for nothing! 

Now I see it. The tamed monster needed to be released. Her weakness would not be condoned. A queen cannot survive without experiencing pain. 

I should bid my time. 

Mark her gently. Start from scratch. Scratches, during our sacred lovemaking. Bites while kissing. Slaps at breakfast. Whips, months much later. 
THEY

17TH APRIL 2020

The years flew by quickly. The man and his wife. A crumbled empire. The soul of a dead child, somewhere in-between. What became of these persons? What became of the ignorant prey and the dominating predator? 

It took years for her. It became a passing testimony for her. She finally got it. A man and a child eagerly waiting at her door step every time she completed the more than hundred pages upon pages of fairytales. Yes, later she made-up a fairytale story of her own. I should tell you, it sold thousands and thousands of copies. Thousands and thousands of copies of pages of well coated lies.

What about him?

To your quest for a revenge on the monster, dear reader, I tell you he did suffer. For years, he lived in his insanity and mourned for his lost queen. Later, however, a soul took pity on him. A fresh soul he found it hard to believe could exist. She was no longer his queen; he no more could dominate anymore. This fresh soul became his savior. 

Together, hand in hand they built someplace new. A man and his wife, a refurbished home with a beautiful child somewhere in between. 

What became of the beast?  Deep down hidden between the depths of imprisonment, he smiled. For his queen had become as he had marked her to be. 

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