MSC (Rewritten)♡•~

CHAPTER TWELVE: A Wound In A Memory

The weeks following Auntie Gifty's passing were the worst moments of my life.

I didn't see much of my uncle during those weeks. He was usually shut in his room in silence, and so I decided to stay in mine. Sometimes I'd cry the whole day, not stopping until the night came round and I fell asleep, my dreams filled with my Auntie's voice and her soft smile. Other nights I felt too numb to even feel anything, and I just lay in bed, holding Chocolate cake close to me.

One day, about a month after Auntie's death, Uncle Philip suddenly came out of his room, and when he saw me sitting on the living room floor quietly, he suddenly slapped me, and then beat me before telling me to go and make dinner. That was when he first started to take all his anger out on me.

I was afraid. And I had nobody to turn to at the time. For years, I dreaded him returning from work, only to take out all the stress on me, often beating or shouting at me to get things done. He'd get drunk a lot in the evenings, too, and I had to make sure to stay outside or lock myself up in a cupboard to make sure he wouldn't find me in his state.

I took it with silence for a very long time. Until that one day, when everything changed.

TEN MONTHS AGO FROM PRESENT DAY...

Eyram was my first ever friend since I started living with Uncle Philip alone. She used to be in my school, but we had only become friends after I left. She was twelve, just a year older than me, so we were pretty close. She was the daughter of the shopkeeper across the road from Uncle's house, and so we were only able to speak when I was sent there to buy something.

Uncle Philip didn't know we were friends. He would never have allowed it. Friends were weaknesses that only added extra problems to your life, he had told me. And besides, what did I need friends for?

Eyram and her Mum, who I called Auntie Aba, knew Uncle Philip would have been angry if he knew about us, so they kept it a secret. The two of them were kind of like my safe haven, Auntie Aba would give me biscuits and juice sometimes when Uncle was out, and I would sneak them into the back of the house and eat them secretly. On days Uncle was angry, and had beaten me again, I would run to Auntie Aba's in the night, and she would dress my wounds and give me a cup of Milo hot chocolate.

Eyram was an artist. She used to draw everything she found interesting, from chickens leading their chicks across the road, to school children playing. I had always wanted her to draw me, but I was never able to stay long enough to do it.

"I wish I had talent like you. I'm not good at anything". I used to tell her.

She would laugh at that all the time. I never knew what she found funny about it. Then she would look at me, grinning, and tell me, "there's more to you than you know, Abena. You should also try some new things to see what you are good at, else you will never know". Then her eyes would go sad, and her expression would soften. "But I know, that your Uncle...hmm. Don't worry, one day we will try some things together okay? Maybe you will even be good at art like me".

They had done a lot for me during my time knowing them so far, and so when Eyram announced her twelfth birthday, I was determined to give her something back. But I barely had anything for myself. Asking Uncle was not an option.

But then something happened that morning. I don't know what came over me, but I was willing to risk anything that day. Just so I could get Eyram a gift.

So when Uncle Philip placed a bowl of expensively wrapped chocolates on the dining table for the guests that would come later that day, I was already sure of what I was going to do. I remember how he caught me looking at them, as I cleaned the dining table, and he had threatened to starve me for four days if I took one.