𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐 𝒀𝑯𝑾𝑯

𝑽𝑰

I've heard people say home is the place where your loved ones are, where you feel safe because you're surrounded with the people you trust. When the closing bell rings I watch my friends happily skip home in anticipation to be in the familiar space where they can just be themselves. They know that at the end of whatever day they have they can always go home and be with people who give them warmth, happiness and security.

I have a house not a home.

It feels empty, like nobody's around yet people are. It feels like walking into a place you don't feel comfortable in, like when I'm being forced to do something I have no idea about. The anxiousness, nervous turning of your stomach, tense feeling of making the wrong move. Can I ever call this place my home?

The sight I meet upon entering the living room is one I didn't expect. My father is sitting on the couch, a freshly prepared meal in front of him as he licks his fingers clean. Mom cooked egusi soup with semovita, my father's favorite meal. His eyes lit up when he swallowed a rolled up ball of the food into his mouth.

"Ah you're back. Your mother told me you went out for a walk, how was it?" My father asked once his gaze settled on me. It made me uneasy to see him smiling at me. At this point it feels wrong and my mind prepares me for anything that could happen as my body goes in defense mode.

I nodded. "It was okay."

Is it normal to be afraid of the man who helped give birth to you? My palms feel sweaty and my heart beats as though he's going to attack me. I've seen the things he can do, it's like something evil takes control of his mind.

Alcohol.

Although I don't sense the familiar scent of the filthy drink in the air I'm still careful of my behavior towards him.

"I'm going to my room," I say quickly in order for me to leave this weird situation but my lovely father has other plans and is urging me to take the seat beside him so we can talk. Catch up on missed time.

Here is a man who is supposed to be a father, who is to love his children and protect them, instead he has become the one they see in their nightmares. He has become the one who causes us so much pain. For once I wished that he would stop, just sit back and realize how his actions are affecting us. I wished that he would prioritize us first as his family.

God when?

I carefully sat beside him, fiddling with the loose hems of my shorts and looking at the blank television. I'm not ready to say anything to this man.

"When is your WAEC exam coming up?"

"We just started school," I tried to control the annoyance in my tone, "We've not even written mock exams."

He nodded his head. "Your Physics result last term wasn't good, you need to sit up. Do you want to do private lessons?"

He looked me in the eye, his red ones and my clear ones and I could see the sincerity in them. It tugged at my heart strings, almost making me cry. Why did he have to do this to us? One day he'll act as though he has your best interest at heart-it makes me pity him so much, then the next he's just someone unrecognizable.