ABUSED~REGIA RADIO

He beat me until I stopped feeling my legs. Then he threw me on the bed like a ragged doll and had sex with me while saying that he loved me. I heard him but couldn’t speak. I wasn’t dumb but the pain left me speechless. I felt my heart break, and for the thousandth time I asked myself why I was still with him. When he was satisfied, he got dressed and asked me to leave his room before he returned. He said he was going to bring his other ‘entertainment’ and he didn’t want any interruption. This had become our routine for a while now. I expected romance but got this.

I met Michael in my first year in school. He lived in my hostel which was off campus. The first time I saw him at the hostel gate, I was hooked. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome with the reputation of a romantic lover. He had never had a girlfriend and I was determined to be his first. For some unexplainable reasons, some of my friends advised me against doing so, but I was bent on making him mine. In my second year, I moved into the room next to his for easy access. I approached him as a neighbour and by the end of the month, I was his girlfriend. I immediately assumed the role of a loyal ‘wife’. I cooked, cleaned his room, washed his clothes and dishes and even slept with him. We were happy and the first three months was bliss until I came home one day and found him cheating on me. I threw the girl out and confronted him. In anger I slapped him and he retaliated with so much force that I fell. He apologized to me and promised that he wouldn’t hit me again. But it only got worse. The second time he beat me, my friends saw the wounds and pleaded with me to leave him. But I couldn’t because I was addicted to him. I loved him and the idea of being his girlfriend.

Now a week after the last encounter, I walked into him having sex with another girl. It’s nothing new but I was tired of cleaning up after he was done. After the lady left, he asked me to clean up and I refused. Like a bolt from the blue, he slapped me. I tried shielding my face with my arms but he pushed me to the floor and began to kick me in my abdomen. I moved my arms from my face to my stomach as memories of the last time he beat my baby out of me flashed through my eyes. 

I stopped moving and he stopped beating me. When he turned around, I got up, tottering on my feet and picked up an empty bottle on the reading table and hit him on the back of his head. The sound of the bottle breaking and the loud thud of his body hitting the floor jolted me out of my trance-like state of mind. When I saw Michael on the floor bleeding from the head, I thought he was dead. So I panicked and ran to a friend’s house waiting for things to die down. When Michael woke up, he looked for me, but I made sure he never found me. That was how we ended our relationship. Although I am relieved that I didn’t kill him, because I didn’t want to end up in jail. However, when I think about my dead baby, I really do wish he had died that day.

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