Category Archives: Short Stories

The Begging Child

Tell me please…how is it that you speak so well but move in the suburbs?

Well, I go to school and sit by the window listening to people speak.

What exactly is your story little one?

If I start to speak out the words describing exactly how I feel, how we feel, how it feels, we may spend the week here and perhaps the weekend too. However I am obliged by my mates here to give you just a sneak peek of how we survive here daily, how we live just for the day with no hopes of a tomorrow because truthfully, our tomorrow never comes — we only have today.

We come from diverse neighborhoods and estranged homes but somehow we all found a family in each other. I am here with my elder sister — who is autistic and my kid brother. Our poor parents died a very long time ago of some strange illness and our villagers sent us away saying we were possessed. My siblings and I found our way to the big city after several weeks of trekking and eating raw plants in a bid to survive.

I thought that after coming to the big city, my elder sister will become normal once we saw the ‘Man that God sent to Earth’ so that she can take care of my brother and I, but I think my sister’s faith was not strong enough and because she did not believe, she remained as she was. And so I was left with the responsibility of taking care of us.

I cannot start to tell you how many people tried to sell us when I approached them for food and shelter for myself and my siblings and how we always kept running every single day to avoid their angry-money wanting hands but I can tell you how we finally found a home, a home where we all understand each other — this home where you are now looking at all of us.

It was one heavy raining night — when the city of Lagos had gone to bed and people like my siblings and I had been chased out from under the bridges for a cleaner Lagos without nowhere to go. I was very cold but more so, I felt pity for my sister who did not understand what was happening and was crooning behind my brother for warmth, constantly tugging at his shirt. In that swift moment of desperation, I cut my long skirt in half and wrapped her with the half of it hoping she would leave our brother alone but she kept clinging to him. I looked at them with tears unshed as I prayed silently for the heavy rain to stop. There was no way we could find a shelter with the kind of rain that was blowing sand and dirts into our mouth and faces. We ran around looking for shelter in abandoned stowaways and market sheds but at every turn we made, someone else was already occupying it. My kid brother must have seen something because he started running and I grabbed my sister’s arm and ran with him wondering what must have triggered him. Suddenly he stopped, looked at me and shifted back. I knew what that meant, so I stepped forward and walked into the shabby uncompleted building and created a shelter for us all. It was not a covered shelter but it was a place where we could hide by the corners and rest our heads till the morning with the rain still falling on us.

I must have slept off for too long because I felt someone jab me by the stomach, quite intrusively. My first instinct was to fight back but as I opened my eyes, I suddenly closed them because the light shining down at me was too much. I realized it was morning already as I looked up at the young lad who had jabbed at me. I quickly stood up and smoothed my skirt saying ‘I’m sorry, we will leave now,’ as I bent back to wake my siblings.

“Let them be.” I heard him say to me. “Who are you?”

“Nobody,” was my instant reply… “we are not meaning to intrude. We will go now.”

He kept quiet as he watched me wake up my siblings, telling them that we had to leave. I didn’t realize that he had two others standing with him way up in the opposite direction until one spoke out… “they are clearing the streets because of the elections and locking up people like us. Stay for a day before you set out with your people, it is not safe out there today.”

I turned to face who had spoke and saw a young girl just like me looking at us. Suddenly, I realized there were so many peeping eyes from several corners of the building looking at us. I held my siblings closer not sure what next to do. “Please, let us go. We meant no harm.”

We mean no harm too. We are just like you but we have made a home here, and you are welcome to join us after today. Stay and join us for the morning food. The younger boys have gone out very early to get the scraps that the Akara women and the buns seller at the junction feeds to them. It is usually enough for us all to manage till the evening when we all get back from the daily hustle, only that today’s hustle will be different because of the elections, so the girls may go out in the afternoon with some of the boys to see what food they can hustle and I and the older ones will go out later tonight to help with the night meal till we resume work tomorrow, hopefully.”

I looked at them in pity wishing that I could help them all, and then realizing that I was also in the situation, I offered to help. “Can I join the girls in the afternoon…I am sure I will learn from there.”

Take today off and rest. You will need it for tomorrow, hopefully when we start work proper. Get used to the system here. What should we call you?”

Oma.”

And the people with you?”

My sister, Blessing and my brother, Osas.”

Welcome home, Oma.”

That was how I made a home and we grew together in friendship, making sure that we took care of each other at every turn while on the streets hustling and begging and making sure that the 35 of us all returned home safely. That was two years ago.

We used the money from our begging spree to start the business of buying and selling but only three weeks ago, the police arrested Stanley, the head of the house because he was hawking at odd hours. I tried to go with the second eldest to beg the police to release Stanley but they would not listen to us. We pray for him everyday hoping that one day, he will come back to us. We are trying to raise money now to get him out and so we are more merciless with our begging.

Just in case you see me running towards you or towards your car, please remember to put some money in my bowl, it is for Stanley’s bail.

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Alpha Series – C’s Catastrophe

You can read my previous post here on Alpha Series – ‘A’s story  and Alpha Series – B’s Beast. You can also check out similar posts on the Alpha-series on Kofo’s blog here , herehere, and here . Enjoy!

“To first control a people, you must first control what they think about themselves and how they regard their history and culture, and when your conqueror makes you ashamed of your history and culture, he no longer needs prison walls or chains to hold you – John Henrik Clarke”

“To colonize people’s minds, you must first demonize their cultures, then their traditions…”

Cold heartless stories always began here at my community under the mango tree by the moonlight with stacks of fire-woods built like an army raving mad, shinning red and yellow, providing warmth.

Crouching my old heavy weight towards the small mat on the wet floor, I settled before the youths lingering around, waiting for my weekly night tale especially the ones I told after today’s festival.

Carefully, I looked around them hoping to find Berema seated somewhere in the crowd, she always avoided my weekly tales. I could see Awusa sitting with the drums, waiting patiently for the time he would have to beat us a rhythm in between my tales. I smile at him. Such a handsome, promising young man.

Casting my mind back to when I was younger, I decided to tell a tale of myself. So I forged names and locations, obviously the youths will be too engrossed to even think it is real and so I began…

Callistus was his name…very odd! The white men had named him Callistus saying he would one day be a priest of his people; even though the white men spoke funny languages, people still looked up to them like some sort of gods.” I hear Awusa as he beats his drum in a thundering rhythm. I continued smiling…”his mother laughed after she was explained to, saying the white men gods have chosen her son as his beloved. She gladly handed him over to them to train him in the way of their most high god.”

Considering the path his son was chosen for, Callistus father hated the white men and their funny language the more. He revered the gods at Bonny island. He revered the gods of his people. His son would never bear Callistus. His son will never be a priest. His son will speak his native tongue. The white men tried to deceive him by buying him fancy items…but Callistus father never agreed. He fought to keep his son from the claws of the white men. He fought to keep their language.”

Callistus father was unfortunately killed in the dead of the night. No trace on who did, no clue. Callistus mother gave him up the very next day to the white men, saying Uba n’uwena…uba funie wulu puena. He hated his mother for that, and he swore never to become a priest.”

“Colonization became a fun game. The white men had taken over the shores of their island, teaching the people in Bonny island the language of the Queen; English language, threatening to shoot when the people antagonized. It became an arrogant form of patriotism. The Britain were seen as great people. Their god was the one true god irrespective of the people’s gods.”

Captain Hart was appointed a chief, right after Callistus father passed on and he agreed to send off some of his youths to the British consul for special training and empowerment. Of course, the community was greatly rewarded for the exchange and that was the day Callistus forgot what it meant to smile.” I stretch my tired back as I let Awusa sing a sad song, beating his drum at intervals.

Curiously, I look around again for Berema. This time I sight Finima and hope that Berema will be somewhere around. I continue. “Callistus was taken with some other youths out of the Bight of Bonny and straight to England. Somewhere along the line, they were divided and he was sent to live with an old priest…Reverend Father Pepple.”

Constantly, Callistus tried to find the greatness in the England that he found himself. Every day, he would attend the mass with the priest and constantly be reminded that Jesus loved him. Callistus did not know about this Jesus. He had heard that the Queen’s god was superior to all the gods at Bonny Island. He was trying to understand that…now Rev. Fr. Pepple was talking about Jesus.”

Clueless about Jesus and mass, Callistus approached Rev. Fr. Pepple one night and said…Father, I not a knowing your Jesus but if you are take me back to my people-ing, maybe your Jesus will be understand. Rev. Fr Pepple had replied saying, do you not know that Jesus loves you?”

Callistus responded saying…I not know this thing you have say all the time but maybe if I go back to my people-ing and I tell them about your Jesus, we and I can coming to love him too in our village?How dare you say you want to go back to that evil forest of yours? You will stay here and be my server and learn the way of the Lord, else I will hand you to the Queen.” I waited for Awusa to beat the drum, but boy was long lost in my tale waiting on my next line. I sighed as I continued…

Capable of being killed just like his father, Callistus stayed and endured. One night, he sat up, ran to Rev. Fr. Pepple and spoke of marriage and when he realized priests don’t get married, his resolve of running away from the prison became stronger. How would they choose him for a life of suffering without his people, without a wife, without children? All for who? Some Jesus that he did not know. He began to wonder, is Jesus a woman?”

Casually, Callistus would take a long stroll at the water port when Rev. Fr. Pepple went to say mass for the sailors at sea and hoped that someone would come to rescue him. He hated his life here in England. He missed the water crabs, the fishing games and the people. He wondered what his mates would be doing. Some would have married. He missed the Kalabari dish and spices. The British people ate too many rubbish, he could not understand. They fried their fish and baked their beans. Nonsense cooking style. He kicked a stone.” I stretched for ease…I was tired of my story.

Continue grand Perekule, the youths all murmured. Don’t cut the story short today please.” I look at the tale starving youths all looking like me back then…I wonder what they will do if the white men came now to gather them away. I stand to full height watching Tamuno as he clasped his hands in desperation “I will continue next week…my weak bones are tired and need some rest.”

Composing myself regardless of the burning sensation I felt in my chest, I strode calmly towards my hut. The night was cold and almost over. Today was a busy day. The children needed sleep. I hear footsteps running after me, I know it is Awusa. “Grand Perekule, should we come to your hut? We could give you a massage as well while you tell us the remaining story…”

Craving the need to succumb to his request, I swallow a nudging smile. I turn back to see him surrounded by the other youths, all with pleading eyes. I know I need the massage but I do not want to continue the story tonight. Taking a deep sigh I respond “Grand Perekule will continue the story tomorrow…we all have had a long day, let us take a good rest, dreaming of our fore-fathers while we return afresh in the sunrise for the first time, to complete Callistus story…Aba nu’punella lolo.”

Catching my stick which was about to fall, I continue to my hut “Nu’punella Grand Perekule…Sleep well” the youths shouted after me. I reach my hut. It is dark. I reach out for the side lamp. Where is Berema?

Double Jeopardy 3

If you haven’t been following this story, you can read previous posts here Double Jeopardy 1 and here Double Jeopardy 2. Enjoy this one!

“What you see is what you get…when life hands you a rock, make a sculpture out of it…Be careful where you step your foot into, you may never be able to come out of it.”

******

You smile haphazardly as your thought races back to before you were married, when you tried to broach the issue to Raymond. You remember how you were disarmed by the gentle smile that appeared on his face when you got to his house that afternoon.

“You know, when you called me to say you were coming over today, I decided to go to the market. I want to cook for you.”

You looked at him lovingly as you smiled weakly. “But Raymond, you can’t even cook…”

That is why you are here. You will be my teacher.” He looked so excited, like a kid with a new toy. So you could not tell him you were getting married to a jelly. You let his joy wash over you as he led you to his small kitchen. You began to instruct him on what to do, and when he succeeded in doing one thing right, he made sure you had a taste of it.

Here” he would say and spoon into your mouth the broth from the beef or an under-cooked chunk of the red beef or a tangy tomato sauce that was under-fried.

Hmmm…tasty” you respond to his vibrant enthusiasm of wanting to please you.

He did it with so much care, his face alive. Beaming. You laughed until the stupid tears stood in your eyes. Your heart melted at his every desire to do right by you. And in the evening, when the food was finally ready and you had said you were not ready because you knew that you would still end up marrying the jelly Nelson, he had told you to shut up.

Tell me Ovie…why you are not hungry,” he said as he playfully spooned some of the garnished rice into your mouth and sealed it with a tiny kiss.

You chewed and said, “because I have no appetite Ray.”

He looked at you and laughed, “or is it that I have added too much spice to the food and it tastes awfully wrong?” He takes another spoonful and puts it into his mouth, “I think you taught me well, it tastes so nice! So tell me what I can do to help you regain your appetite.”

You smile weakly because you are just a liar and a she-devil not to let him know what is going on, but you cannot afford to break his heart too. You look at him tastefully, sinfully, “you can kiss me…”

“Hmmm…that sounds delicious.”

He pushed the food aside, took your hands and placed them on his face. He looked down at you from the angle he was standing, his eyes intimidating, his gaze strong you had to close your eyes for just a minute to regain your breath. Before you could open your eyes, his lips enveloped yours. You could taste his craving. Something like liquid fire traveled through your veins. He pulled you up to standing height. His face lowered to your bosom. You feel his warm breathe.  Electrifying sparks shot through your skin, jabbed at your sides. You breathed helplessly.

There was no way you were going to break this man’s heart by telling him about Nelson. You forget about Nelson. You focus on Raymond’s tiny kisses on your neck. You want more. You hold his face and demand a kiss. He kisses you right back. Softly. Gently. Carefully. You allowed him carry you to his room. He does so with ease. He looked into your eyes as he lowered you on the bed. You both smile. There is synergy. There is love here. There is peace. You don’t understand it. Your breath catches as he placed his warm lips at the middle of your thighs. You wiggled and moaned. He giggled at you. He knows just what you like. Your excitement was burning too hot. Your head was expanding and shrinking at the same time. Ray was working magic on you. Your breathing was loud. Too loud for comfort. Your gasping was uncontrolled. You tried to restrain yourself. Ray’s tongue was moving swiftly. Every nerve in your body was tingling. You think you will have a nerve condition. You giggled at the thought. Ray stopped. “Don’t!” You whispered. He smiled at you as he bent to nuzzle you by the belly. He found your navel area with his nose. He licked on it. He knows he was tickling you. He knows you like it. He knows you. You cry in pain of what you will miss. You know he is the one you want. You cry some more.

He moved upward. He was looking at you. “It’s all right Ovie. I will love you no matter what. We will be fine.”

You smiled at him as he reached to wipe the tears falling from your eyes. You reached to fondle his side beards. He does not understand. You cannot tell him. He will hate you. You do not want him to hate you. You do not want him to break. You pull him down and kiss him again. This time you demand for more. He gives you more. You allow him to take you. You realized your nose and mouth are no longer enough to breath with. You clinged so hard to Ray’s back. He paused. He waited for you to catch up. You swallowed. You trembled. He held you tight. You smiled. He continued as you catch up meeting his pace. He dug his face into your shoulder. You both reach your peak. You let out your breath.  His breathing is gentle. You kissed the edge of his shoulder. A soft breeze swept across the room. The sky rumbled. It rained. He kissed your forehead. You nuzzled in his chest. You don’t want to let go. This is love. You can’t explain it. You both fell asleep.

Two hours later when you woke up, the sky was a berry blue. The room was cool. You liked the smell of the rain on the curtains. You whiff it in. You look for Ray. He is seated by his window, looking at you.  He was naked. His long legs rearing up powerfully. His feet planted firmly on the floor. You knew then that you will never be able to bring yourself to tell him about your wedding. About Nelson. Stupid jelly man! Tears pressed against the back of your eyes. You turned around on the bed and sobbed quietly. His arms are around you. You lie. You say you hurt from loving him too much. You say you are hungry. He goes out to warm the food. You eat together. You know you will miss him. You hate your parents. You hate your life. You sigh.

Throughout the wedding preparation, you knew that Ray suspected something. The distance. The hostility from your family towards him. His sad smile. You felt sad.

“Babes, I know I do not have anything for you or anything to give you now, but all I’m asking is for you to give me some time, everything will gradually fall into place.” This was one of the evenings when you strolled along his street together. He faced you with clenched fists and pleaded. “Please…” his dark handsome face tightened. His gaze intensified. You nodded and swallowed back what you should have said. Instead you hugged him.

“Thank you Ovie…” he breathed, his body warm against yours. He trembled helplessly. He felt so vulnerable, so helpless. The breeze moved around you both. Like a circle of spectators. Rain drizzle touched you both. As if encouragingly. You remember the rain. And you knew that you will never be the one to tell him.

You picture his face again as the curtain in your matrimonial home rises and falls in response to the impact of the light breeze from the AC. Your jelly husband is still outside. Your phone rings. You look at the screen. Ray’s face appear but you do not pick! You grit your teeth as you stab the fruit in your tray.

NB: To all women who had to marry men they do not want because of the economy and who are living through it, smiling everyday and trying so hard to fit into their plastic lives. It is well!

 

Double Jeopardy 2

If you are just joining us, welcome! If you missed out on the first part of this story, you can read the previous story here . Enjoy your read.

“They say Marriages are made in heaven…but so is thunder and lightning.

It is not lack of love but lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages – Friedrich Nietzsche”

Despite your husband’s protest at the knock on the door, his PA insists he must open to receive the business call on hold.

When he steps out of the room, you look around. The room is lush, comfortable and speaks volume of Nelson’s money but it lacks something. You try hard to figure what it is and then you realize – Ray is missing in the picture. You remember his chiseled face, his bright lips, the aura of masculinity that exudes from him, his firm thighs, his muscled arms, the abs and the ‘V’ outlined down his torso…

You allow your thoughts to drift back to that cramped room of his, located around bunkery road, Effurun, a less expensive part of Warri. You picture him again sitting close to his window, penning down poetic words, his forehead furrowed.

When your husband comes back in, he is apologetic.

“Hunnay…” he starts as he reaches out to touch your arm. You flinch unconsciously and you are somewhat surprised at your body’s behaviour. You make a mental note to try to accommodate at least his touch.

He looks at you with a small smile as he settles besides you. You wonder what he is about to say that makes him look unsettled.

Hunnay…we may have to reschedule our honeymoon to Barbados? I have an urgent business meeting to attend to…” He grits his teeth. His words resembles a request rather than a statement and if you say no, you are sure he would budge to cancel the meeting. He will do anything to please you.

“It’s fine.” You say “We can always fix it for some other convenient time.” You exhale.

Are you sure?” He looks surprised.

You nod in affirmation as you pick at your breakfast.

He looks down at the tray “I don’t like your eating habits hunnay. You need to add some more weight.” Add some weight indeed and become a jelly bah…you laugh at him inside your head.

He reaches to touch your cheek. This time you close your eyes and try not to flinch. “Be right back.” He winks at you and you feel nauseous. Contrary to mama’s advice, you doubt you will grow to love this man with jelly like fat.

*******

Marry Nelson and deliver your family from shame. Raymond is still young, he will definitely find another girl. He is not ready and your time is ripe.” Mama had reasoned when Nelson first showed up at your house unannounced.

You roll your eyes at Mama’s statement. Ray will find another girl your foot! Did it look like you wanted him to find another girl? You are already his girl! And this Nelson, wanting what he cannot have. “I cannot stand him mama. He looks like doughnut.”

“He is not a doughnut Ovie, he is a well to do man and it shows on him.”

“Did I say he was a doughnut mama? He just looks like them!” You retort back. You do not understand why papa is quiet about all this, looking at the TV like some magic will appear from inside. You do not like the man, how hard is it to understand?

Ovie, a woman’s mind is flexible. You will grow to love him. How long do you think it will take before Raymond finds his feet? That is if he ever will. This is Nigeria not America.” She continues to handpick the particles from the beans.

Papa looks up from the TV and looks at you. “Ovie…” he starts “are you not happy God has brought Nelson your way? We keep asking Him to help us daily in our prayers and now he has sent a helper through this man, you want to reject his offer? You better start to think of what you want to do with your life. Do you like the way I am here waiting for my pension payment from our so-called government? Do you want us to keep relying on your mother’s petty business? Why do you want to be an unfortunate child? You better marry the man we chose for you or you are dead to us!”

You stare hard at papa and wonder what has made him talk. Mama is nodding. “Ovie, you have heard your father.”

You look around your environment, at the copious stains on the wall, the untiled cement floor, the old gas cylinder and the rusted green stove. You admit you want a better life for yourself and your family. You admit that you need money to solve the problem. You admit that you need a good money paying job but you refuse to admit that you have to leave Raymond to achieve that. You refuse. Then several thoughts gather up in your head like traffic. You are unsure what to do with your parents demand.

This was many months ago.

Double Jeopardy 1

“They say Marriages are made in heaven…but so is thunder and lightning.

Take care to get what you like or you will be forced to like what you get. Where there is no ventilation, fresh air is declared unwholesome! – George Bernard Shaw”

‘Marry the man we chose for you…or you are dead to us!’

********

You frown. You did not tell your boyfriend you were getting married. So when your phone rings on your wedding night and his name and picture appear on your Samsung phone screen, you do not pick the call. It continues to ring, this Samsung edge with its delicate features, with his face on the screen; his lips glowing. You do not pick.

Your new husband stands up from the bed, his slightly protruded belly hanging low, as if tired. He walks into the restroom. The sound of his footsteps against the cool, mirrored tiles is like the sound of a person’s palm beating the surface of water. When you are sure that he is out of earshot, You pick up your phone to call Ray back, but then there appears a text from him.

“One day, our dreams will come through. We will both be the people we want to be. Happy and of course, blessed. Then I will have my heart’s one desire – coming back every day to see my baby on the sofa, with those hot legs crossed. I will kiss you and then we would talk about our day and what to do about our kids performances in school and sometimes maybe, their naughty behaviors. Till then, sleep well, My Queen.”

You feel a movement in your chest. A warm sensation wraps around you, like a small cuddle. Your new husband walks back into the room. He does not see the tears you are blinking back. He will never know that your eyes burn on the inside. He smiles at you, a suggestive smile, and you force a smile back.

“I am coming Nelson…” you say as you enter into the restroom too.

He nods quickly. As you close the door to the restroom, your back leaned against its smooth surface, you exhale softly, slowly, feverishly. You take off your top bra and panties and climb into the tub, your phone still in your right hand. You swipe open the screen and reread the sms from Ray again. This time around, there is a rhythm in your heart, a vibration of some sort.

The water rises around you, the white foam covering your thighs looking like snow. You read the part where he has written, “…with those legs crossed” and you laugh, tears streaming down your face without restraint.

You do not know how long you stay like that crossing your legs under the spell of a fairy tale, until you hear your new husband knocking on the door and saying; “is everything alright with you?”

You jerk back into reality and, almost in a slow motion, stand up from the tub. You put on the shower and wash away the foam from your skin. You like the feel of the water. When you come out, your husband looks at you from hair to toe.

“Hunnay, is everything alright?”

You nod quickly, smiling weakly. If only this jelly of a man will stop calling you ‘Hunnay’.

He looks unconvinced as you place your phone on the dresser and dry your legs. He stands up and walks out of the room giving you some privacy that you need. His buttocks, his belly, his flesh, every part of him is shaking, as if he is made of jelly and water. You remember Ray’s firm body.

Different thoughts start to contest for space in your mind. You wonder what Ray is doing at the moment. How he will stare at his phone and then mutter aloud, “Why isn’t my baby picking up?”

Your husband returns with a mischievous smile, and sees you lying on the bed. He claps his chubby hands together. Each of his fingers looks swollen, as if he suffered from whitlow. Then he climbs into the bed beside you. The mattress reduces, drowning in his weight.

You look up to the ceiling as a means to evade his eyes. You can feel them on you, those bulgy eyes peeping out of their sockets.

“Hunnay, I don’t like this. You don’t look happy.”

You turn to face him. His appearance is newly repulsive. His saggy breasts lie on his chest, as if they were sleepy and his stomach tilts sideways, as if about to fall.

“I am fine” You say hysterically. Your eyes looks like they will soon betray you, so you stretch your arms upwards to turn off the bedside lights.

No hunnay, I want to see your face.”

You do not even protest as he turns the lights back on from his angle and stares moronically at you. You lay back down and take a deep breath to hold back the tears.

“I am just too tired from the wedding…” is all you manage to breathe out.

The rest of the night is a catalogue of mishaps. First, this jelly husband climbs on top of you after a feeble attempt he makes at touching, his weight crushing you. You feel him thrust in and out of you, after spreading your legs apart with his jelly sized thighs. His thing feel like the size of your pinky finger. You roll your eyes in exasperation. No foreplay, no proper romance. You sigh. The look of contentment in his eyes makes your stomach knot and when you feel the sticky warm fluid inside you, you feel soaked up in mire. He rolls away from you. It brings to mind the way the angels rolled away the heavy stone on Jesus’s tomb.

He keeps on panting as he slides away from your body and lay next to yours. You stretch again this time, determined to keep the lights off, as you flick off the bedside lights. Then as you lay back down, you feel his hand, the hand that is as rubbery as sachet water, cuddle you. Tears drop from your eyes and you bite your teeth into your lower lip to avoid crying out. You fall asleep but remember several amount of touching and his hands turning you to spread apart your legs for another round and yet another. You sigh in your sleep as you let him pound on. After all, he will only be there three to four [3 – 4] minutes.

In the morning when you awake, you see him approach you with breakfast in bed. You stretch to see the tray content, it is a healthy meal with a delicious aroma. Your stomach growls. You sigh as you look away.

“What is it? Do you need anything?” He is troubled by your indifference towards him.

“No…” you shake your head and almost immediately you add “please, stop calling me hunnay.”

He shakes his head “No, hunnay, I can’t stop from calling you that. Why? Don’t you like me calling you that?” He leans forward to wrap you in his arms.

You feel irritated from his somewhat-soft-grasp. You feel like strangling him as he chuckles into your face, looking like he is going to kiss you. You push him away slightly. “I just don’t like how it sounds in your mouth!” You respond.

“Do I call you ‘honey’ or ‘huni’?” He looks perturbed.

You wonder why he is acting foolish when they all sound the same. You shake your head and resign to fate. “It’s alright…” you say “I think I just need to get used to it.”

He smiles as he kisses you by your forehead and moves to drag the tray closer to you. You are grateful when you hear a knock on the door from his PA.