And here is another update to your much loved fiction series.
The following morning came by so quickly. Surprisingly, Amma woke up on her bed feeling really cold and exposed, even though she was dressed in her black tank top and shorts. Michael must have dressed her up. She breathed heavily and struggled to stand up on her feet. The pain was indescribable. Her back and thighs hurts so badly. But she told herself to quit whining and get to the bathroom for a quick shower.
She walked quietly to the living room, to her surprise; the living room was well arranged and her torn clothes were folded on the chair. The usual morning program on the radio was on and Afro-pop songs were being played. She could hear movement in the kitchen. She walked into the kitchen. Her uncle, Michael was making breakfast. He was humming a song and seemed in a high spirit. He had on a black singlet and black shorts. He turned around and starred at her.
He held a wooden spatula and walked slowly towards her. His facial expression gave away nothing. Helen froze at that spot just outside the door. She wasn’t sure what he would do. But he smiled and gave her a long lingering kiss.
The kiss he forces on her every time he was in this mood. She opened her eyes throughout the soulless and shameful kiss and held her breath. There was no point struggling, he was a lot stronger.
He released his chapped lips and pushed her against the wall. She breathed heavily beneath him. He gave her a long stare and smirked. She stared down and couldn’t control her rapid heartbeat. He walked towards the gas cooker and stirred his cooking. Whistling, he concentrated on what he was cooking which smelled so much like scrambled eggs.
The silence was deafening, but she didn’t want to create a scene this early. So she walked to the fridge and poured herself a glass of water. She was itching to say something, something about last night. But she couldn’t because she was scared of what would happen. She decided to do what she always does. Prepare for another school day and move on with her sad little life.
‘’Have you trained today?’’ Michael’s voice stopped her.
Of course she had to have her daily training session. As a sport athlete, Michael created a space in the house for his old gym equipment he brought along with him from Accra. For five years he had trained Amma with each of the equipment, bought her some boxing gloves and thought her to fight and defend herself.
As scary as it sounded when Amma began to train, she was only fifteen and her body was beginning to take the form of a young woman. Her breasts were plump and her hips were sticking out gradually. Michael taught her to ride a bike, run on a treadmill, use the punching bag efficiently and he also taught her self-defense.
Her muscles were toned and quickly she was given names by her class mates back in secondary school. This was the beginning of scornful teases for her, but she loved working out, she would take a long run from the house to the main road to and fro as early as five. Long walks and run helped her relax, they helped her forget everything for a while and she harnessed her frustration on the punching bag for hours every single morning. She enjoyed doing these things and they became a part of her lifestyle. They became a routine.
‘’I just woke up’’ she murmured.
‘’So?’’ his voice was calm.
‘’I will go now’’ she said slowly. He stopped stirring and said nothing. Amma didn’t bother facing him, she bowed her head and waited patiently for a wooden spatula or slippers be thrown at her. But he just chuckled and continued with his cooking. She would never know what tantrum he would throw, what simplest of the simple things would set his mood off, what could cause him to throw things at her and hit her in hidden and précised spots no one would notice. And because this had been going on for years, Amma was a master at disguise. She hid her scars brilliantly, made sure no one noticed, made sure no one asked the wrong questions. Questions she wouldn’t have any answers too.
Amma was still trying to figure out why all these were happening to her. Why her once loving Uncle would turn to a soulless monster.
Quickly, she walked off and walked out of the house through the back door. She stood at the threshold and breathed heavily for few seconds. Then she opened her eyes, it was still dawn and it was freezing cold.
She walked towards the next small building beside the main bungalow, where Michael set apart as a work-out room. She opened the door and flicked the light on. The room was filled with lots of gym equipment. She smiled as she sighted her punching bag. This was her stress-reliever. The gym was where she ould train for hours and channel all her negative energy, anger and fury into hours of workout session.
She slipped on her gloves and walked towards the punching bag and she let herself go.
She punched the bag as hard as she could for a very long time and grunted in pain. She was feeling so much pain in her muscles but didn’t stop punching the big old bag. Apparently, this was more than just the physical pain on the surface.
She latched on to the pain, hate and frustration and guilt she had in her.
She would stop to catch her breath and then continue, blowing air through her mouth and wiping off sweat from her neck.
This was her escape route,.at least for the time being.
New update tomorrow guys. Thanks for reading this far! It means a lot to hear your response. So please drop them below.