𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

2b°/ And more voices

Guys, what's up naw, isn't it too early to not be voting😰💔

Please, before you start this chapter, vote now amd go back to vote the previous chapter, biko na. How can my last chap have over 70 views and just 20 something votes, I hope we're not on bad terms oo😰💔

P.S; I updated a chapter this morning and I am not sure if dont think wattpad notified everyone, so if you are here and you didnt read the previous chapter, do so❤️

Warning: Graphic and somewhat infuriating content ahead..

Okay, since there's no yawa😂, let's move on to the chapter lol....🥃🥃

~DABI~

Loud irritable cackles and laughter coming all the way from the living room slapped me the moment I stepped into my father's mansion.

I grinded my teeth, fought to urge to spit out the bile that rose up my throat in a moment of extreme hate and disgust.

She was home. Only she, laughed like that.

I had deliberately walked in through the back door, having a slight feeling it was just safer to, and the minute I landed myself in the kitchen, I stopped.

It was different from how I left it.

The coloured tiles on the floor and on the walls of the Kitchen was overly clean. The dishes in the metallic sink, by the large gas cooker were gone, all of them, washed and nearly arranged in the large basket that sat on top of the cupboards. All the spoons and cups were clean too, neatly arranged where they should be.

Mum cleaned up... I knew why.

The aroma of freshly made eguisi soup found it's way to my nose, instantly making me hungry. My eyes travelled to the tray of lunch, properly set and arranged on the marble top and my blood boiled over. I quickly lost the appetite for food.

Mum cooked, and had already set the food in the kitchen, probably getting ready to serve it.

I knew who it was for.... And my blood heat up even more.

I imagined myself throwing that entire tray of food to the fucking ground.

"Took you long enough."

I knew who spoke to me before I turned to see. Slowly, my head moved, turned away from the food, to my mum at the door of the kitchen, and on seeing her, my own breath choked me.

I found it even more difficult to breathe as I absorbed her presence. She still had on that tattered ash-coloured dress that I had seen her wear for the past three days now - a long dress that was bogus enough to nearly swallow her entire, overly skinny frame.

I didn't know if it was just me, but she looked even slimmer. Her colour was also draining from her and she looked paler too. I couldn't even look at her eyes for too long, it hurt to see how tortured they looked. The ugly bags under them, those dark circles... they seemed even more prominent. Her face, bruised with healing wounds - as it always was. Infuriatingly, I could see that there was a fresh new cut on her lower lip - one that wasn't there before I left the house.