The wife

"Dad, Mom, are you witnessing this?" I whimpered, tears streaming uncontrollably down my cheeks.

Just as I was about to bring the second bite to my mouth, my uncle's wife emerged from indoors, her laughter echoing through the room.

"Are you seriously going to eat that? Hunger can make someone quite humble, I see," she chuckled heartlessly.

Her taunts plunged me back into sadness, and fresh tears welled up in my eyes. From being a pampered girl to enduring mockery while eating discarded food – the transformation was unimaginable.

As she turned to enter the room, she couldn't resist one final dig, "Well, I don't blame you. You take after your foolish father," she sneered.

I couldn't tolerate anyone disparaging my parents, especially my late mother. Anger surged within me, and I bravely confronted her, "Ma, did you just insult my father?" I demanded.

She pivoted, hands on her hips, and retorted, "Wait, are you trying to fight me? Even your mother was foolish. What can you do about it?"

My heart ached for my late mother, who had once saved this woman from a predicament. I recalled how my uncle had caught her in bed with another man during her marriage, leading to her expulsion from their home. My father, initially furious with my uncle, had ultimately supported the decision, believing that a promiscuous wife could spell disaster for her husband. A week later, she'd come to our house to beg for forgiveness, and it was my mother who had interceded on her behalf. It was through my mother's efforts that she had been allowed back into my uncle's home. It was unthinkable that she would now insult my mother.

"If this is a jest, stop it," I silently implored as I inched closer to her. Tears glistened in my eyes as I questioned her, "Is this how you repay my mother's kindness?"

She retorted, "I'm talking, and you're still talking? Don't worry, you'll soon see what I'm capable of," before storming outside, slamming the gate, and locking me inside the compound.

Fear gripped me as I couldn't predict her next move, but I knew I was in grave trouble. A few minutes later, she returned with three men, each brandishing a cane.

I trembled and sobbed uncontrollably upon seeing them. "Mom, please, but..." I began to plead, but they grabbed my head and gagged my mouth. As I struggled to break free, they silenced me with vicious slaps.

"Who's your mother, you fool?" she hissed at me, then turned to the men and ordered, "Deal with her without mercy."

I gestured with my hands, desperate to plead and beg for mercy, but she remained unmoved. "Next time, you won't be disrespectful again," she declared before walking away.

I was still a teenager then, but my body had already toughened. Those men showed no mercy, stripping me of my clothes, dousing me with water, and mercilessly lashing me.

The pain I endured was indescribable. It reached a point where I no longer begged them for mercy but prayed to God to take my soul and grant me peace. My prayer went unanswered, and I continued to suffer. When they finally left, I couldn't even tell if I was still alive; all I knew was that blood was flowing from my battered body as I groaned in agony.

She reappeared, thanked the men, and handed them money. I lay on the floor, writhing in pain, when she returned with a bucket of water and poured it over me to wash away the blood staining my body and the floor.

"Stand up as if nothing happened! If you dare tell your uncle anything, remember that if I leave this house, you'll leave this world," she warned before exiting.

I couldn't respond; I could only endure the pain, hearing her words through a haze of agony.

"Dad, Mom, please call me to where you are. I'm ready. Please don't be cruel. I can't bear this pain," I whispered through tears.

To be continued...