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PETALS BENEATH HEELS – A Broken Story in Broken English (Part 1)
PETALS BENEATH HEELS - A Broken Story in Broken English (Part 1)
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PETALS BENEATH HEELS – A Broken Story in Broken English (Part 1) 


Based on a true-life story

“I can’t do that, it will destroy my marriage,” I hear Auntie saying. I know she is talking to yellow pawpaw Auntie Caro. She is the only one that know the inner things Auntie do in her house.

“You know how Simon is, he will beat me up and throw me out of the house. And, what will people say? I’ll be humiliated, and what’s worse? I’ll be arrested.”

I want to go back to the kitchen, but my leg refuse to move, I want to hear everything, I know Auntie will be angry if she find out that I am listening to her talk with Auntie Caro, but I don’t want to go. I jump when Auntie start to laugh.

“That can’t happen,” she tell Auntie Caro. “Except I am no longer agu nwanyi. I can do anything to make sure my home does not fall apart.”

Auntie see me and frown her face before telling Auntie Caro that she will call her back. She drop the phone and tell me to enter the sitting room and walk to her. I promise myself not to shake so she won’t see my fear, but Auntie is smiling and I begin to shake.

“Dinma, how many times have I told you not to eavesdrop on people, ugboro ole?”

“Sorry Auntie, I am passing to…”

Auntie give me a loud slap that make me jump back.

“Haven’t I told you not to look into my face when I am talking to you? Are you a witch?”

Auntie don’t allow me to answer. She drag me and give me another loud slap and it make me sit on the floor, with plenty bells ringing in my ears. She adjust herself on the sofa, and the rings on her fingers.

“Have you taken the painkillers I bought you?” She reduce her voice and ask me. I nod my head, still holding my face and crying very well.

“Good,” she smile, showing deep dimples and crossing her legs.

“Oncle will be back this evening.” I nod, and she ask me to go.

That night, I just lie like small wood and Oncle is like big elephant on top of me, making noise like pig, and in the other room, Auntie put high music that make me feel like I am not breathing, I don’t even feel anything. When Oncle finish, Auntie tell me to take the drug tomorrow morning.

I remember when I first get pregnant for Oncle, I am just eleven then. Auntie is shouting and asking Oga Chemist, “how is that possible? She is just eleven.” Oga Chemist tell her that it happen like that sometimes.

He call it “one of the rare cases.” After, he call Auntie to one side, and tell her that he have drug for flushing the pregnancy. That day, I cry and roll on the bed, my whole body is paining me and I ask God to kill me.



Rosemary Kasiobi Nwadike is a creative writer, scriptwriter, and editor whose works range from Fiction to Poetry. She has some of her works published in Journals and Anthologies, including From a Little Lens, which won the Wilson Okereke’s Prize for Short Story. She also writes non-fiction on subjects ranging from Social Criticism to Intrapersonal Relationships. When Nwadike is not writing, she delights people around her with her fashion-designing skills.

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