She sat on the rocking chair. The cold harmattan air
biting through her thread bare cotton shirt, legs folded underneath her bottom.
Another gush of wind rushed around her and she felt her nipples cringe
painfully. She could feel the sores created on her lips where the harmattan’s
whip had cracked them open. An overwhelming feel of helplessness rushed over
her quickly and a shudder runs through her entire body. She rolled back and
forth, crunched up her face in torture and opened her lips in silent scream.
She sucked in more of the harmattan air and choked from a dry throat. She fell
from the chair onto the hard floor and lay there, coiled in fetus shape, eyes
wide open, lips still parted.
She’s haunted, she knew that now but she couldn’t get
herself out of it. She picks herself up from the ground and heads into the
sitting room. Suddenly an arm smacks her on the forehead and she’s against the
wall. Arms imprisoned on both sides of her head, she shook her entire body in a
frightful struggle. She opened her mouth once more and gave out a silent
scream. She opened up so wide she felt the skin on the corners of her mouth
tear and she tasted her own blood. She couldn’t free herself. She held still
for a minute and calmed down, then flung herself at the force. She landed face
down on the marble floor.
Darkness engulfed her for minutes on end and she felt
emptiness, lost and stranded in an unforgettable place. And then she woke, she
got up slowly, crawled to the nearest chair and propped herself up. She picked
an aluminum cup on the coffee table and looked at her scars. She sighed in
resignation and then the arm jerked her up once more at the collar of her
already worn dress, twisted her around and flung her at the nearest wall. Her
dress gave way and her breasts lunged violently to the left in defiance of the
direction she had been thrown towards. She heard the smack of her body against
the cold concrete and felt two arms reach at her from her back. Standing there
in a pair of cotton briefs, she opened her mouth and let out a dry scream.
Nothing, her lower lip curled downward like a waakye leaf after being used and
she let out a sob. No tears, no scream, such emptiness, such darkness in a despair
She slid down the cold wall, running her fingers down
and leaving four way trail of blood. She put her thighs together and scrunched
at the corner of the wall. She sat there for minutes, staring wide eyed at any
and everything. Then she picked the broken side plate by her side and looked at
it in resignation. She sighed once more and wished more than anything that it
was that of relief instead of despair and loss of fight. She picked it, run it
down the marble floor and heard the floor complain of its sharpness. Then she
placed her face into the corner, hoping to disappear through the wall. She felt
the warm liquid running down her arms and into a pool in her palm. She sighed
once more and darkness engulfed her; emptiness, lost and stranded in an
unforgettable place but away from the dryness and the thread bare clothes.