Flaws Of An African Girl (COMPLETED/UNEDITED)

CHAPTER 1

Humans can also be monsters.

"Harida" I hear my father shout repeatedly from the parlor with so much anger and disgust dripping from his voice.

What have I done this time? I have finished washing all the clothes in the laundry basket and I am done with all my chores, so what is it that I have done? I pray in my mind that it is nothing really serious but deep down in my mind I know that something is wrong.

Panic and fear course through my whole body as I start shaking. My fingers become numb and I try to clench it a few times to remove the numbness. God help me. My heart start racing like it always does when I am frightened by my environment, my breathing is hitched and I am sweating profusely. I start feeling unwell and everywhere suddenly feels hot even though the air conditioners are on.

"Chikamharida" My dad roars from the parlor for over the hundredth time now. I can imagine his red eyes bulging from his eye sockets and his head swelling with anger.

"Yes sir" I answer hurriedly from my room and start rushing down the stairs to the parlor.

"You are a very useless girl. Is it now I started calling you?" He says before I even reach the parlor.

"Sorry sir" I say immediately I get to the parlor.

My dad is currently in a sitting position with his head bowed low. He raises his head up immediately he hears my voice and I can see his eyes glinting with different negative emotions; hatred, disgust, anger, frustration and resentment.

"Azubuike Chikamharida Chiamaka" He calls out my full name five times and I don't forget to count. The last time I forgot to count how many times he called my name, he forbade me from eating breakfast and dinner for four days.

"How many times did I call you?" He asks.

"You called me five times sir." I answer.

"Good. When I started calling you, why didn't you answer me?"

"I-I w-was in t-the toilet" I lie. I can feel sweat dripping from my head profusely but I ignore it, I am only concerned about answering his questions correctly and hope that he forgives me for anything I have done that has made him so angry.

"You were in the toilet" He repeats my previous statement while laughing maliciously.

"Y-yes sir" I squeak out from the back of my throat. My fear increases at every passing moment as I await the dread that is yet to come.

"You were in the toilet and that was why you couldn't answer me?" He questions. "How many times have I told you to never keep me waiting and to always answer me immediately I call you?"

"I am so-sorry sir" I stutter.

"You know how I hate repeating myself but you like pushing me to the edge. You like making me angry but that is not the case now. I will punish you later for that" He tells me.

"What is today's date?" He asks. His voice is dangerously low with venom dripping from it.

I am used to this. This is what I like to call the calm before the storm.

"Today is the twenty-fifth day of July. It is the last Saturday of the month"

"That's very correct but what do we do every last Saturday of the month?"

"We invite Pastor Bode Adebayo and the prayer warriors to our house to pray for our family and bless and sanctify the whole household" I answer with certainty.

It has been a ritual since we started attending our church; the power of God ministries. My father believes that if Pastor Adebayo does not pray for the house every last Saturday of the month, bad things will happen and that God will forget about us. Since after the incident, my father has developed this strong devotion and liking to Pastor Adebayo and his church. We were formally members of the Catholic Church but after that incident that changed almost everything in my life, my father decided that we should move from the Catholic Church to where the sun shines brighter which to him is Pastor Adebayo's church. It has gotten to a point where my father can kill for this man. It is almost as if my father worships him.