All About My Bruises (PT11)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Three months later

Even through the constant haze that so much beating from Sam had put me in, I knew I had missed my period for three months. God was seriously against me. Why did I choose this time to get pregnant? I had wanted a baby when I married Sam but I didn't want it again, not if it was conceived by the way Sam had been raping me constantly for the last three months. I have decided to stop calling it rape. I didn't know what to call it; but it was no longer rape, for I did not move or shout or do anything again when he came to do his deed. I just lay there like a block of wood and waited for him to be done. I have been Sam's prisoner for three months. I have bruises all over my body, courtesy of Sam's beating. There was no part of my body that did not know Sam's foot or hand.

I did not even know that Sam could cook. He was determined that I should not die because he made it a point of duty to put food for me in the room. I still didn't think he was the one that did the cooking. I stopped paying attention to my surroundings months ago. After two weeks of cooking for me, he got me a stove and foodstuff so I have been living in my room, seeing nothing but my bed, TV, books, bathroom and so many clothes. I knew Israel must be worried about me. Sam confirmed that when he so nonchalantly told me that a man that claimed that he was my friend was constantly calling my line and that he came over to see him and asked about me.

"What did you tell him?" I had asked in clear desperation.

He leaned really close to me, almost touching his nose to mine. He said in a low and mean voice right into my mouth, "I told the fool to stop calling my wife or I will have him arrested. He hasn't called since then," he smiled cruelly and moved away from me. "No one is going to save you from me. No one cares about you. No one cares if you live or die. Not your family, not your friends and certainly not your boyfriend." He came back to hover over me again. I cringed expecting a blow to land on me any minute. "I don't really care what that Babylon person is to you. I just want you and him to know that you belong to me."

He pulled me up by my hair. I held his hand to reduce the pain on my scalp. He said into my face, "you are mine, so I do with you as I please. I suggest you get used to that," he said as he spat into my face. "Get used to that," he flung me aside like a dishrag and left the room.

'God I hate this man. I know hate is a strong word but no other word can do justice to what I feel for him. The man is rude to his own shadow.

That was when it occurred to me that Sam might be mad, that he might be thinking that what he was doing was right as he was my husband. After he told me that, I had wept. Any hope of Israel coming to look for me was squashed by that message from Sam.

Now as I took my bath, another worry was in my head altogether. I looked at my figure in the bathroom mirror. I turned around and looked at my naked figure in the mirror that covered half of the wall in the bathroom. Apart from the bruises that were now a part of my body design, nothing was out of place, but I knew that my body was changing. It was my body so I knew when things happened to it that was out of the ordinary. And I was having annoying sickness every morning. I did not want to consider the fact that if I perceived any unpleasant or heavily pleasant scent, I lost everything in my stomach except my intestine. I also noticed that I was growing very thin. If I got any slimmer, Sam would be looking for me whenever he entered this room to his evil did and I would be right there on the bed. I had thought I was thin when I was going to university. Compared to my state now, I was very fat. All the bones in my body, even the ones I have not noticed before, stood out and glared back at me at the standing mirror in the bathroom. It was like my own image was mocking me. There were scare all over me. Some were bleeding; some were healed while some were still fresh like the ones he inflicted last night.

Look where you landed us. You could not take care of us. Look what we became. You caused it. You caused it. You caused it.

I have been hearing voices in my head for the past three days. It refused to go away. I shook my head but I could not get the voice out of my head. Maybe I was going mad or something. Three months of confinement could do that to someone. I shouted.

"I did not do anything. I tried to correct, to provide for us. I am so sorry." I was trying to explain to the voice in my head with my mouth that I did not know how it got out of hand.

Tears slipped past my eyes. Even crying was painful. I must be going mad if I am actually having a conversation with myself in my head.

Two things were clear to me now. I was pregnant and I was not getting out of this place anytime soon. Sam has taken it upon himself to play God. As I established that fact, I tried to reconcile to that. I promised myself that I would try not to put the sins of the father on the head of a baby.

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"I want to talk to you about something Sam," I told him immediately he opened the door.

He was drunk again. My fear was confirmed. I was praying that he would not be so foxed when he got home today but it seemed that I was asking God too much. Sam was very drunk and he was intent on doing his deed. I was sitting on the bed and was motioning for him to stop coming closer. He still staggered closer. He was not wearing his suit or his tie and his shirt buttons were mostly undone. On the other hand, I was wearing a skirt and blouse. I have stopped wearing trousers in the hope that it would stop him. It only made him angry and he tried to snap me from the waist as he tried to get it off.

"What do you want to tell me? Tell me when I am done with you." He approached me in his drunken gait. I scooted and tried once more to reason with the alcohol in his head.

"What I am trying to tell you is that I am pregnant. I am going to have a baby. If you beat me, I might lose the baby. Sam, please! Can you hear me?"

I crawled all the way to the other side of the bed. He followed me.

"I heard you alright. What I hear is that you have invented an imaginary baby to prevent me from giving you your punishment. I might be drunk Adaeze but I am not stupid. Get over here now before I kill you and whatever you are growing your tummy!" That being said, he threw himself over the bed and caught me by the skirt.

He dragged me to the bed and began what has become a ritual for me for the last three months. He kicked me and beat me. I forgot about my face and tried to cover my stomach. He kicked my stomach anyway. It seemed that he was focused on my tummy. After that, he raped me and left. I lay down in my own blood on the sheet that I changed that morning because it had been stained with blood. I still have no idea why I bled when he did that. I should have gotten over that; my body should be used to that by now.

It took me some time to notice that the blood was not only from the wound I got from the rape. I was losing the baby. I could feel it in my gut that I was losing the baby. I got down from the bed and went to knock on the door.

"Sam, open the door. I am bleeding. Sam, I am having a miscarriage. I am bleeding. Sam, please, I am dying here. Open the door."

I did not hear any sound to indicate that there was any life on the other side of the house. It was silent. I knocked harder but to no avail. I was going to lose the baby. I cried like I never did before. I did not want to lose the child. It was innocent and had a right to know life and make his way into it and not flushed out in blood.

God, if you are up there, do not let me lose this baby. He did not do anything wrong. God, please. Are you even there again?

I walked away from the spot where I was standing, behind the door. A pool of blood has already gathered there. That was when I noticed that I have shed up to two pints of blood. I am going to die. That was the first thing that got into my mind. I have lost my baby, surely I deserved to die. I trailed blood as I walked to the bathroom, took all the tissue in my room and entered the bathtub. I prayed to God to make my death fast and painless. Surely he could do that little for me. I crawled into the bathtub and lay down as the pain-wracked my body. I was in agony for one hour before God actually had mercy on me and I slipped into everlasting darkness. "Thank you, Lord" was the last comprehensive thought I had before I went into the dark void that no pain existed and no joy also.

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I opened my eyes and winced at the pain that shot to my head. Zeus must be using my head for practice with his lightning bolt. This must be hell because I could not be feeling this kind of pain and still be alive. I tried to open my eyes again, and this time, I refused to give in to the pain and darkness that was calling to me. I opened my eyes and everything was white. Good, I really am dead at last. There was light shining so bright from above. That must be the place where God stayed to look at all the people on the ground like me. The problem was that I was the only one in the white room.

I tried to turn around to see if there was any other person in the room but my belly and whole body protested. It was like the very core of me was being torn to shreds by unseen hands. The pain was coming centrally from my centre. I put my hands in there to find the main cause so that I could at least tell angel Michael or the devil when they came to check on me. I would tell them that heaven was not the way it should be and I was feeling pain. It was not supposed to be so. Or maybe I was in the waiting room waiting for either God or the devil to claim me. That must be the case.

I dipped my hand under me in the white bed that I was lying on. My hands came out crimson. I was so horrified. Surely people didn't go to hell or heaven with souvenirs from the earth. And if I must go with such thing, why must it be the blood of my innocent unborn baby. I forced myself to stand up. The pain hurt like hell and hell combined but I refused to bow to it. I was already dead. I knew people did not die two times. Even the people that gave testimonies in the church that they did die a couple of times did not really die. If they did, they did not die a proper death. They didn't feel half the pain I felt and was still feeling.

The whole white room did a crazy breakdance nearly throwing me to the ground. I felt tipsy and dizzy. I grabbed something to steady myself. It would not do to fall without grace in the presence of anybody that was watching. The tipsy room decided then that I have suffered enough to last me a lifetime and stood one place. I looked back at the place I was sitting and nearly threw up.

The disappointment that came over me was so great that I nearly died from it. The bathtub, not the white bed was filled with my blood, my baby's blood. So I am not dead yet? Too bad! I sighed as I reconciled myself to the fact that I had passed out and had bled out my baby and that I was awake again to face the world. FATE must have a twisted sense of humour.

I ignored the pain that protested my bending down and bent to flush the blood out. There was still some of the stuff that clung to the tub as if the baby was trying to hold its grip on life. Funny as the thought was, I believed it. That baby had wanted to live and I could not even protect it. God, I am awful.

After cleaning the tub, I went into the room to confront my bedroom, the crime scene. The place was a fine eyesore. There was blood on the bed, at the door and droplets of my life essence all the way to the bathroom. I could not bring myself to gather the strength I needed to start cleaning the mess so I just took out a fresh blanket, spread it on the floor and slept. I was so tired and so in pain that it took me conflicting time to get to sleep.

I woke up eventually. I had hoped that the hunger that was gnawing at my tummy would kill me before I woke up. As was the case lately, my hope was dashed. I faced my room again. I decided that I needed to clean it before I could eat. I would not be caught dead eating in this room in the state it was. I took my time cleaning the blood. I mopped up the blood, changed the shit, and washed the one with blood and my clothes. By the time I was done I was so tired that I was surprised I did not sag into a puddle of nothingness. After the housework, I was more in control of myself. I cooked yam and beans for myself. I ate, read a little and went back to sleep.

A rude tap to my shoulder woke me up in the middle of the night. I sat up with great difficulty and looked into Sam's face. He looked drunk and sober at the same time. "Why were you knocking at the door in the middle of the night?"

A new kind of hurt entered my heart. So he was there and he simply refused to answer. I debated the wisdom of telling him that I had a miscarriage last night. I decided against that. He heard me last night, so there was no need to repeat what he did not want to listen to.

"I just wanted to get out of this room and see the world again." I have resigned myself to the fact that something more horrible could happen to me in this life again. I changed into a simple green, house gown.

Sam looked like he did when he came back from work. I didn't know if he was still cheating, though I would wish that he cheated now if it would make him stop this defilement.

"You want to see the world? Or do you want to see Israel? He came to ask about you again. I was tempted to tell him that you died abroad but that would spoil the fun. I am leaving the subject. You said you wanted to see the world, well, let me show you the latest style they do it in the world." So said, he pounced on me. I saw it coming so I scot over to the other side of the bed. He ran after me. I made for the door. I got there and left in a rush. He was right beside me. I was still weak from my loss of blood and lack of food.

I saw the living room's door, one word echoed in my head. Freedom. Free at last. I reached the door and made to open it but the door refused to give. He reached me and dragged me by the hair back. He threw me so hard against the cushion that I felt the very breath rush out of my lungs.

"You want to go out and meet Israel right? You have not changed."

"Sam, I have changed. I will never talk to him again."

I felt so filthy that I had to beg the bastard but I could not take more without doing my best to avoid it. But somehow, that seemed to drive him crazier.

"You promise? That is just like the devil promising to go to church."

He beat me and raped me again. I got really sick of going into the details of the things he did to me. After he was done with me, he dragged me to the room and left me there. I did not cry. I just felt too numb to cry. Everything inside me froze. I just felt like a living dead. I just went to my bed, curled up and went to sleep.

I cried in my sleep for myself and my lost baby.