Her Story

This is a short story written by the lovely  @Mizz_Starzz. Enjoy

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This story wasn’t mine to tell. It was when I saw the name ‘Adeleye’ tattooed on a white woman’s back that I began to piece together her story. Funny how there wasn’t any sort of Ade in her given names but for some reason it juggled my memory.

It was during one of our many BBM conversations that she began telling me. First, her past poured out and I sympathized: the many cold nights, the neglect, the public indifference. What got her through it? She’d like to think it was her resilience I choose to say it was God, why? Cos I’m a believer I have blind faith. no questions asked. She talked about how she’d eaten off many dishes and I listened and sympathized some more. She ate the ones of sorrow, of lies, of wrongful accusations, with tears in my eyes I consoled her.

Next came the recent present..

At First, it reeked of love but boys will be boys.

Now all she talks about are the beatings. How she copes? She disassociates herself from the present when its happening. She goes to her ‘happy place’ and watches while it goes on. The only reminder she gets are the scars running all-over her hands and back, angry scars, stubborn scars that refuse to heal. Suffice to say long sleeves were her favourites. She’d never wear gowns, never wear backless dresses too…

Now I understood why.

It wasn’t all pain she reminded me.

She had killed a baby for him one time but he wouldn’t still give her the ring. She would then launch into the ‘Ibiza story’. The postcards from Italy; it had been peace on all sides back then

Lately her story had been filled with ‘I’s and ‘Me’s…..

Sitting on the bus I kicked and kicked myself for not noticing. I had my head so far up my own ass I couldn’t see that she was drowining! She was calling out for help, as subtly as her strict upbringing and self pride could allow her. She was asking for my help and I was too blind to see. And I paid dearly for it too. When it was my turn to pour my handful of sand on her coffin as the preacher man droned on “ashes to ashes…..”

A sudden chill descended upon me.

It was a hot July morning, most of the mourners were too hot to cry since we were all robed in black. As I looked up I could have sworn I saw her flash me a wicked smile and disappear amongst the trees.

Why ‘Adeleye’ triggered these memories I am yet to find out. This is her story. Just as she’d want it to be told, sharing her pain without revealing much.

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Please share your thoughts in the comment box.

xx