Chasing Greatness :A Journey Of Hope

chapter 20: miracle

I went home feeling scared and angry. The whirlwind of emotions inside me left me unable to speak to anyone. I skipped dinner, isolating myself in my thoughts. The anger wasn’t just at Femi or myself—it was at everything and everyone around me. The walls of my room felt suffocating, and the air seemed heavy with regret and frustration.

The next morning, I made a decision—I told my mom I wanted to start going to her church. She was shocked, knowing how much I loved my choir and the community I had in my church. I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth, so I simply said, “I want us to worship together.” She believed me, and her face lit up with happiness.

But inside, I was still boiling with unresolved emotions. Femi’s betrayal, my guilt, and my bottled-up frustrations felt like a storm brewing in my chest.

That Saturday, as my mom attended her second day of the three-day prayer program at her church, I was left at home. Sitting in the living room, I tried to focus on anything but my thoughts, but they consumed me. I heard my younger brother crying and rushed outside to find my older cousin, Omo, yelling at him. She was older than me by far, and apparently, the argument was over soap.

I don’t know what came over me—whether it was the anger I felt toward Femi or the pent-up emotions I’d been suppressing for days—but something snapped.

"Why did you beat my brother?" I demanded, my voice trembling with anger.

“It’s none of your business,” Omo snapped back, her tone dismissive.

Before I realized what I was doing, I grabbed one of my mom’s Pepsi bottles and smashed it against the wall. The sharp sound echoed through the house, silencing everyone.

"If you don’t mind your business, I’ll stab you with this!" I shouted, holding the jagged edge of the bottle toward her. My heart pounded as the room filled with gasps and chaos.

Omo froze, her expression a mix of shock and fear. My younger siblings cried louder, and the neighbors gathered to see what was going on.

The commotion reached my mom at church, and she came running home, leaving her prayers behind. The moment I saw her step into the house, her face dark with anger, I dropped the bottle. I knew I had gone too far.

She didn’t say a word to me but calmly told Omo to let it go and reassured everyone that the matter was settled. Then she turned her piercing gaze toward me, her silence more terrifying than any shouting. Without another word, she returned to her prayer program.

That night, guilt consumed me. I apologized to Omo, tears streaming down my face. I knew I was wrong, but I was just a teenager going through puberty, overwhelmed by emotions I couldn’t understand or control.

The next day, after church, my mom returned home. She rested for a while, then called me into her room. The moment I stepped inside, she locked the door with a key. My heart sank, knowing what was coming.

“Why did you break a bottle?”why hmm mimi, she asked, her voice calm yet laced with disappointment.

I couldn’t answer. My lips trembled, and the weight of her stare pressed down on me. Before I could speak, the first lash of her belt landed on my skin.

She didn’t hold back—she used everything within reach, including her shoe. I covered my face, trying to shield it from the blows, wanting to prevent the marks from marring my appearance. But she wasn’t stopping.

In her fury, she accidentally left a scar on my face—a tribal mark I would carry forever. That scar became a permanent reminder of that day, of the storm I unleashed and the emotions I couldn’t control.

When she was done, she sat me down, tears in her eyes, and spoke softly.

“Mimi, I love you, but I can’t let you go astray. Do you think life is easy? Do you think being angry will solve your problems? You’re better than this, and I expect more from you.”

Her words broke me even more than the punishment.

I nodded silently, my face streaked with tears. I knew she was right, but the pain in my chest felt heavier than ever.