I Ran From My Father’s House / Chapter 3: Blood, Bullet Comments, and Truth
I Ran From My Father’s House

I Ran From My Father’s House

Author: Derek Davis

Chapter 3: Blood, Bullet Comments, and Truth

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......

That night, my papa come house, dey complain say food cold. He just vex, turn table, break plate for my mama body.

Noise scatter everywhere. Plate scatter, glass fly, oil spill for floor. Na so my mama head catch am, blood begin rush. I dey shout, 'Mama! Mama!' but my voice just dey float.

The broken pieces cut my mama face, blood everywhere. She just dey use hand cover head, dey beg am.

Her hands dey shake as she dey beg, 'Abeg, abeg, I no do anything.' Blood dey drip for her cheek. I dey fear say this one pass normal wahala.

After all the insult, my papa kick door, go enter bedroom.

House quiet small, just hear my mama dey sob. Even clock for wall no gree tick again.

My mama sit for ground, dey shake, dey mumble say she wan go back be rich person pikin—say she no wan suffer again.

She just dey rock herself, eyes close, sweat mix with blood for her forehead. She dey talk like person dey dream, 'I no suppose dey here. I no suppose dey here.'

She still talk say love na scam, say dem don deceive am.

Her voice break as she talk am, the kind bitterness you go hear for old woman wey never chop better food for twenty years. I look her, my heart dey pain.

I don hear am before—na so she dey talk every time dem beat am.

Sometimes, after beating, na so she go dey repeat the thing, like say if she talk am reach one hundred times, maybe God go hear.

As I dey clean her wound, I just dey blame myself say I never big.

I dey use small rag, soak am for water, dab her face. My hand dey shake, mouth dey twist, I just dey swallow tears.

If not, my mama for don craze from beating.

I dey fear say all this trauma go make her forget herself one day. Na only me dey hope say e never reach that level.

But I no expect say, na that moment, bullet comments go just full my eye.

[Your mama really be rich person pikin, but she too mumu for love that year. Your papa use just one bowl of plain pap carry her run. Years of wahala don make her head dey touch—she still dey dream say she be rich heiress.]

[Your grandpapa na the richest man for Abuja.]

[Sigh, if you wait another half month, your mama liver wahala go bad well well. Na so love mumu dey end.]

I blink, the comments come like spirit—quick and sharp. My heart dey race. Who dey send all these signs?

After shock, na fear catch me.

Goosebumps run for my skin. My hand freeze, the rag for my hand dey drip water for ground.

My mama don hold her right side before, dey talk say e dey pain am.

I remember how she dey press am sometimes, hiss as she stand, dey whisper 'chai, my side dey pain.'

But my papa just dey shout for her say she dey pretend, say, "I kick your right rib, so why your left side dey pain you? Who you dey deceive?"

He no even reason say real pain fit dey. I remember him voice, harsh, as he talk am that day. My mama no fit reply, just dey clutch her side.

But for biology class, dem teach us say na there liver dey.

My teacher draw am for chalkboard—liver dey left side, close to ribs. I dey remember because I dey always try pass that test.

So my mama really get liver wahala, and e serious.

My chest squeeze as I connect the dots. This one na life and death matter.

I no fit risk am.

I dey wipe sweat for my face, dey reason how to take help her sharp sharp. Suffering don too much for one body.

If all these bullet comments na true... I no fit lose my mama.

I dey pray for mind, 'God abeg, no let anything happen to her. E never reach like this.'

If dem talk true, my grandpapa na big man for this life. Even if e still dey vex for my mama stubbornness, he no go just watch her die.

I dey imagine how e go be if big man fit just carry us from this wahala—private hospital, better food, clean house. My hope small, but I no get choice again.

I look my mama, dey groan, and my papa wey fit beat me anytime,

I grit my teeth, make up my mind.

This time, na fire dey my belly. E pain me, but e also make my head strong.

Na who dey fear dey lose—time to go find my real family.

This time, I no go look back. If na run, I go run. If na beg, I go beg. My mama life dey my hand now.

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