diary of Sewa- 2

…me. He would drive his useless self into me and grunt like a hungry pig. The sight of that was an eye sore and to be the victim was far worse. I couldn’t understand what he gained. My mother seemed to be blessed with much better features than a twelve year old me. I had barely grown breasts.

For every time, my father committed such evil, I was slowly dying. I was twelve when I started dying and he was forty five when he was already a walking dead. The gods brought me to end the evil my mother had married. He was no good for her but she would weep and tell us tales by the moonlight stories that we needed our father to grow and she needed him to train us to school. More times I needed to scream at her that she was more important than the man she married to us but I was quieter than a normal girl child. I spoke more to Kitan that I ever did in my life.

I was more of a sacrifice than a child. Little did my father know how he brought his day of death nearer.

When he was done pushing himself into me, he would stand upright and put on his clothes, ask me to shower and send me out to play. Those were the days my mother anointed me and the days Kitan heard a new tale or the sequel to one he heard before.

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By the time my mother saw it all, she died inside. It is safe to say the gods knew what they were doing that she was made to see such on the last day it happened.

After she left for the market and the coast got clear as he always ordered. He sent me to the bedroom and asked me to lay on the tidy bed. He was putting on one of his numerous ugly clothes. It was better to die naked than in such clothes. I laid down and at every interval he welcomed himself into my body and as harder as he went, I reacted for the first time. I screamed and I started gasping for air. His eyes shot wide open with fear and I no longer felt him inside me. His hardness was consumed by fear. His blood drove down another path in his body.

My eyes turned dark. My body got cold. I felt my heart freeze. Just at the time my naked father began cough aggressively and blood pouring out of him, my mother walked in and saw something more cinematic than the death of her older sister. From every hole in his body and even from the member between his thighs, blood ran out.

She began to scream. She was running mad by the second. She couldn’t care about my father in the pool of blood as she held him by the neck and tried to strangle answers out of him but what answers can a dead man possibly give to you?

I kept choking on my own life and my mother ran to me. There wasn’t much she could do before she saw me dead. Right before that second my eyes turned white back and my body stopped moving with force, I raised my hands to her cheek and smiled. Creepy much to see a smile from a face with fully black eyes. She cried and dropped me.

Then she started screaming. She screamed so loud, my father could jump right back up. Kitan had played far off. I wouldn’t have wished him such a view. She kept screaming and started crying. Her wails called the attention of so many people. I wish she had more to receive from life than a man who caused her more pain than childbirth.

Someone had to tell the story. I just did. I don’t know how.