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I Ran From My Father’s House / Chapter 1: Tears for a Lost Princess
I Ran From My Father’s House

I Ran From My Father’s House

Author: Jessica Beck


Chapter 1: Tears for a Lost Princess

After my papa beat my mama, she just dey cry, dey talk say if to say she fit turn back time, she for don remain for her papa house as rich person pikin.

The way her voice dey tremble as she dey talk, my chest just dey tight. Her eyes swell and red, mouth dey shake like person wey cold dey catch. That kind cry no be ordinary—na the one wey don pass water, reach inside bone. Sometimes, she go just dey look window, dey murmur that same prayer, like say if she talk am reach, e go turn true for her life.

I dey reason say maybe my mama don craze, but na that time bullet comments just show for my eye:

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

[Your grandpapa na the richest man for Abuja.]

I rub my eyes, dey wonder if I dey see double or if hunger dey worry my head. The bullet comment just dey flash like dream. My heart start to knock small small, as I dey reason say maybe all this our wahala get another side wey I never sabi.

So my mama na the love-struck second female lead for novel, and me, I be third-generation rich pikin?

Na so I begin look my mama with another eye, the bruises for her skin dey show like map. I turn face my papa, man wey get hand like plank, fit use me do punching bag anytime e like. Sometimes, I dey wonder if na real family I enter so, or dem switch me for hospital.

I look my mama, body full of bruises, then look my papa wey fit use me do punching bag any time.

The smell of dust and sweat mix with the iron scent of blood for parlour, make everywhere choke. The air inside the house dey heavy. As my mama dey sob, I dey reason whether to hold her or run. You go think say person suppose dey used to beating, but e dey pain every time like fresh cut.

I just grit my teeth—na who dey fear dey lose. Time to go find my real family.

Na so my mind harden. If I no do am now, wahala go swallow us. For this kind life, fear dey kill person before hunger go even try.

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