A BEAST CALLED MAN

domestic-violence

 

WRITTEN BY OZOVEHE EMMANUEL

As the slap came down heavily on me, I thought I was hit by lightening. The whole place went dark though it was noon.
“I am your husband and you must respect me no matter what,” Dan said, as he stormed out of the house carrying his bag.

It took thirty minutes after he left for me to recover. I was confused when I finally opened my eyes as our apartment seemed to have been redecorated. I was happy my son was away at his grandma’s ̶ I really didn’t want him seeing these things.

I have been married to Dan for eight years and the only time I could recall having a nice time in our marriage was the year we got married. The sex, outings, and friends’ parties we attended ̶ all seemed perfect until the day he started hitting me, which gradually became a norm.

My husband always found excuses to hit me; I really wished I knew what I did wrong so I could make amends.

I always wondered why he was so bitter:he works in his dream field with a huge take home pay, has a kid and a beautiful, well built wife. What more would a man long for? Albeit, he was never like this when we were deeply in love during our days in the tertiary institution; he just became aggressive all of a sudden after the marriage. I could have sworn that an evil spirit had possessed him.

I had just asked for money to pay the water bills when he pounced on me like a predator.
“Aren’t you aware of the recession? Why do you think I have money to pay bills?” He questioned as he made for the exit with his ostrich walk.
Dan returned two days later and I was happy that at least he was home healthy. I knew he was not a drunk or an infidel; but he being away from home did not give me much comfort.

I ran to meet him as a good wife would, I wanted to ask him where he had been but I was scared of getting a body massage so I helped carried his bag. He must have read my gesture, as he smiled and said “am sorry, I didn’t come home for two days.”

I stopped and looked at him in surprise and just nodded in affirmation.
“I knew it! You thought I was dead right? I know that is what you wish me,” he shouted.

“Not again,” I said subtly to myself as the fear of a possible body tsunami gripped me. I didn’t say a word as I moved with his bag towards the room. The next sound I heard was a big bang on my back. I opened my mouth to shout but the words won’t come out.

Dan hit me so hard that I wondered how on earth the words “I do” came out of my vocal cords during our wedding vows. It’s obvious he derives satisfaction from it, by whatever it is that angers him; of which the aggression am always getting. Am his punch bag, like of a boxer preparing for a heavy weight match.

He hits me more and left me for dead, as he stormed out of the house. I later woke up in the hospital after four days. I was told that a neighbour had called the hospital for an ambulance.

I was in the hospital for a week with no word or visit from Dan. A friend, Angie who stayed with me at the hospital as the patient’s relative helped me with goggles to cover my black eyes from Dan’s punch practise.

I was later released and headed for home. I had told my friend in the hospital that i would be fine so she went home as soon as she had dropped me at my doorstep. I walked into the house to meet my husband reading a magazine; I greeted him and made for the room.

“Where have you been?” He asked.
I stopped, looked at him and walked away.

He followed me and as soon as he raised his hands to hit me, I ducked and he fell. I quickly made for a metal close to the window.
“Dan, if you try anything with me, I would not hesitate to put an end to the miserable air you breathe.”

Dan looked at me. He knew something was at work in me or he thought I was on some drugs. He walked away like a lion stripped of its leadership.

I quickly called my friend and asked her to come and help me. I was tired of enduring it. I was also afraid of what Dan could do to me at night.

I would forever be grateful to Angie, my friend as she came through for me. She and some of her NGO workers came to my house and my husband was surprised as they gradually rid the house of my belongings.

“There are some sick people in this world and with enough money they can get away with anything, but one thing is sure ̶ your husband deserves to be incarcerated.” Angie always lamented.

My husband’s eyes were filled with shock. He never expected I would ever have the courage to leave him.
“What about our child? Are you leaving our lives?” He asked.
But he got no answer. I took a last glance at my handsome husband who now had a beast residing in him; with tears i dampened my blouse, as we exited…
Dedicated to Women who are victims of domestic violence. Say no to domestic violence

Image source lagosmums.com

FICTION: NEAR FUN

FICTION: SCORES 0-4

FICTION : OMOLARA

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RANDOM THOUGHTS: OPEN LETTER TO PASTORS AND MEMBERS (THE BODY OF CHRIST JESUS)

POETRY : A SORROWFUL BIRD

 

12 Comments

  1. Izu

    Wow…. This is so touching… It’s just sickening to imagine how some men derive joy from hurting the woman they married… However, I think most women who go through this should not just rely on their own tears to change him but should also engage in serious prayers to change him…. Sometimes, these men don’t do this with clear eyes

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