::::::::::::21st October:::::::::
Dear Diary,
Even before the judge gave her final verdict, everybody in the court knew Uncle Chike was lying. He claimed he was so drunk that day that he could not even consider having sex with a lady. Yet, he also said he was so drunk that he didn't know what he was doing that very night. "After I left my friends at the club, I went straight home, and on getting home, I slept off immediately." He said during questioning. "But, why then didn't you go with Mena to your friend's house the following morning?" My lawyer asked him, to which he was unable to provide an answer to. "If truly you cared for her and you did not rape her, as a good friend, you should have taken her to her husband's house the following morning." My lawyer added. In it all, the judge gave her verdict by sentencing Uncle Chike to 10 years imprisonment. "…and you, Mr. Jude." The judge continued. "This should serve as a lesson to all the men who maltreat their wife." She added, changing the look on her face. "I would have made you a scapegoat for other men to learn from, but what your friend did to your wife is enough to serve as your punishment." She continued. "But, let it not be heard anymore that you raise even a finger to beat this woman, if you do, you will be punished" The judge gave her final words.
Although, the doctor assured us that I would not be pregnant after the rape, but, we were still very worried and troubled, especially me. I kept checking the shape of my tommy everyday to see if something was already forming there without my consent. I had decided in my life never to commit an abortion, no matter how complex the case may be, and I wasn't ready to make the rape case an exception. Three weeks after the rape, I was still very scared, and my husband witnessed the scariest moments of his life when I didn't see my blood flow that week. I had meticulously calculated the date, and I was fully prepared for it that very day, as the blood flow would announce my freedom from birthing a child out of rape. But, there was no blood flow. Not even a drop. The next day, there was no flow too. Not even the usual stomach pains I feel. Then, I raised an alarm. My husband called the doctor immediately as if the fact that his prediction failed meant he was responsible for the pregnancy. "We are coming now." My husband said as he ended the call. In no time, we were on our way to the hospital. We had not gone too far when I felt something wet, and when I checked my trousers to see what it was, my blue jeans was already stained with red. The seat was also stained. I felt embarrassed, but was also happy that my freedom eventually came, eventhough it tarried.
I was still sitting on the chair beside my husband in the hospital when someone came in. "Madam, you are still here." A nurse called my attention. "The doctor wants to see you." She said. My eyes was fixed on the bandage on my husband's head, and fear gripped me when I remembered what the doctor said. "If we operate him on time, he stands the chance of recovering fast, and might regain his memory fully." The doctor had explained before I left his office. I knew why the doctor sent for me. The specialists who would operate my husband must have arrived. As I stood up from the chair, I could not control the tears that filed out of my eyes. I knew I was guilty. "How could I wish my husband had died in the accident simply because of the things he did to me years ago?" I asked myself. He had stopped beating and maltreating me, and yet, I wished he was dead. It was at that point it occurred to me that I had not forgiven him for all he made me pass through at the early years of our marriage, eventhough he has fathered my second child. "I'm sorry". Tears ran down my cheeks again, as I walked to him to kiss him. He was motionless and still. I couldn't imagine living with a man who has forgotten everything about who he is. It would be worse than all his punches and kicks. As I closed the door behind me moving to the doctor's office, I could not help but look up to Heaven to say a prayer. The very first prayer I said in years, and eventually, the birth of my salvation. "God, please, restore my husband's memory." I said with red eyes and tears all over my face.
© 2015. Austus Ofmat Nwanne
As I typed the last words of the story, I was touched at the ending the story eventually turned out to have because I didn't have this ending in mind at all. Well, as they say, "a story will always write itself". I don't have any other word to say. I'm sure we've learnt one or two things from the story. Thank you all for your patience, and greatest thanks goes to the King of Glory who is the source of my inspiration.
GOOD NIGHT !!!
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AUSTUS OFMAT NWANNE (Mr. Tackle)
Inspirational Speaker and Business Consultant,
TYO Konsult Services.
+2348072970850
tackleyourobstacle@gmail.com
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