“I’m not a boy, I’m a girl, your girl” I begged trying to shield my face, it didn’t even make him flinch at the fierce way he hit me and I became too weak to fight back or shield my face.
“He’s a monster” I said to myself “never again” as I leaped quietly away.
Ebuka and I met a year ago at our hostel; he was fun to be with and had the hair of a bad-boy look. He was tall, broad-chested, dark-skinned and was quite charming to the eyes. Most girls my age were infatuated with him upon first sight, and they would flock around him quite often.
Joy, was not an exception. Before I moved into the hostel, she and Ebuka were close. But, when I came into the picture, things became different. She and Ebuka had a misunderstanding that drew a rift between their friendship.
When I moved in with Joy, she expressed concern about the people I was yet to become friends with in the hostel. She indirectly warned me against getting too close to Ebuka. Seeing that I was new, I took these warnings to heart and warded off every person who wanted to get to know me.
Ebuka and I became good friends not long after I had a fall-out with Joy, when she and her friend wanted to beat me up over a situation I knew nothing about. Ebuka came to my rescue hearing my screams. That was the start of our friendship.
We got really close and he fell hard for me and wanted us to be in a relationship but I didn’t really believe in true love and devoting my time to any man, so I declined.
One evening, we sat on the porch enjoying the cool air after we had washed all our clothes, relaxing from the stressful week we experienced. Ebuka kissed me, so I slapped him and told him never to do that again.
“I’m sorry” he apologized immediately “it won’t happen again,” he said. “It’s fine” I answered, feigning anger, when inside me I was flustered with mixed emotions.
Days passed that led into weeks which became months, and as all was being forgotten, this time I was the one falling. Ebuka knew I was beginning to fall for him, as it became unbearable to be without him and I always wanted him close. Our conversations delve into areas that my past self would scold my present self for indulging.
I wanted Ebuka, so when he asked me again saying “I don’t just want friendship, I want everything”.
All my walls were broken down already, so I said “yes!” He was so excited, lifting me by my legs, carrying me and serenading into an emotion I never imagined myself experiencing. He told me everything I wanted to hear.
We had moved in together the following year, did almost everything together, it was fun and exciting and sometimes I’d sit and say to myself “where have you been all my life?”
Yes it was that special, or at least I thought it was.
Two Christmases didn’t even flinch at the fierce way we loved each other. Ebuka was a jealous lover, and because of this, I stopped talking to most of my male friends. I didn’t want to get him angry or offended in any way.
There was a slight misunderstanding, when Ebuka read a text on my phone, I didn’t even know the text was there, and Ebuka hit me on the right cheek without even waiting for an explanation. With shock, uncontrollably tears rolled down my face, and as I tried to talk, the words would not just come out.
“Won’t you say anything?!” he yelled at me, incensed, holding the phone with the text message in it.
He was working on an assignment using my phone, that was when the message came in, and I didn’t even notice. I tried to collect it to go through the message, wanting to know what he had read in the message that was so infuriating to the extent it would make him hit me.
That was the first time he hit me. Anyways, we settled our differences and reconciled. I had almost no friends to talk to anymore, just a few who were not happy with my relationship with Ebuka. They had nothing negative to say about him, neither did they have anything positive to say.
Ebuka always hit me when we get into a heated argument. Sometimes when I’m not happy with something, I can’t even talk about it because I fear what the discussion might lead to. So, I’m drowned in my own sorrow.
This time I was fed up and tried to fight back. He pulled me up and hit my head hard against the wall, I felt a bit woozy for a split second. He didn’t stop there. He went to get a fork
“I’m going to use this on your face, you think you can leave me just like that? Not in your life,” he threatened.
I saw in his eyes something I had never seen before, so I knew he wasn’t joking. I had to calm down. Begging him to let me go, he took my phone, smashed it on the floor and told me to go pick it up
Without waiting for me, he yanked me back. I picked up the phone, crying bloodshot tears because of the memory that came with how I first got the phone.
Warrior In You
Every day we fight for something we want, we fight with our dreams, we fight with our emotions, and we fight with the belief that we are almost where we want to be. We stay to fight not because we enjoy it, but because we want to be able to tell ourselves we gave it a shot, forgetting that not everything is worth fighting for. So, if you must fight, fight for the person you’re choosing to be, fight to become a better you, fight like the warrior in you.
Blossom Obi writes from Owerri, Imo State. For comments and responses, reach her via firstname.lastname@example.org