The Love of Your Life

The Love of Your Life by Somtoochukwu Benedict Ezioha on ZenPens

You have always loved her, only her. To you, she was everything; despite the fact that you gave birth to her while in your third year in school, and the boy responsible abandoned you, you still loved her more than you loved yourself.

To be honest, she was the reason you started loving yourself. She and the man who you were rushing home to meet. He had been a light in the darkness, someone who showed you that despite the fact that you have scars showing the number of times you’ve tried to end your life, you still meant the world to him.

His name was James, the love of your life. When you had first met him, you had been surprised by his ordinariness; he had a slight leg injury and as a result walked with a cane. But that did not matter immediately you looked into his eyes. There you’d seen untold stories that were bubbling to be told, you’d seen his locked up pains and fears, and you knew that you were in love with him.

Five months down the road, and you were engaged to be married. As you pulled into the garage, you wondered how he could have accepted you with the tons of flaws you had, flaws which decorated you like leaves do to trees. You did not deserve him, but you were happy you had him.

Up the stairs you went, still thinking about the way he accepted Purity your daughter as his own. You knew that many men would have had a tough time accepting such a fact, but to actually take another man’s daughter as yours, and really care for her was something few humans did. And he was among those special lot of people.

The house was unusually quiet; maybe they were sleeping. In such a hot afternoon, sleeping, while hard, would be a good thing. So you headed to the kitchen to take a cool glass of water, but on a second thought, you diverted and went to your room, to see your lover.

But your eyes met pure, absolute and undiluted evil.

There on the same bed you had lain with him and gotten so many pleasurable moments, was he on top of your three-year-old daughter. The same tool of his that has taken you to cloud nine and beyond was lodged in-between Purity’s legs, and blood—your daughter’s innocent blood—was trickling down from her vagina to the sheets.

The only thing that came to your mind was what you had told Chiamaka your best friend when you had just given birth to Purity and was holding her in your arms.

“I don’t care who it is, I am going to kill anybody who hurts this girl.”

Without thinking, you picked up your hairpin on the table in the room and lunged at the disgusting pedophile, slashing and hacking wildly.

Only one thing was on your mind—the love of your life was in danger, and you had to kill the monster.

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