The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time. - — Abraham Lincoln
For the first time in over four years ever since my mum my passed away l prayed crying out for his forgiveness and deliverance from this torture. I prayed earnestly for a swift death that could set me free.
Lying curled up on the floor of my room clutching my stomach that felt like a thousand knives hacking l saw what had become of my life. The choices l had made people wronged things wished for but could never have every single thought and pain rushing through me like Siamese twins.
My voice could no longer carry past my ears coming out scratchy and hoarse from overuse. Even if l did manage to cry for help who would come? The people l once called family had abandoned me long time ago to my fate. Neighbours would have happily seen me burn than give me a cup of water.
Only Belinda had remained my constant and unshakeable friend and wouldn’t trade her for anything but did not want to see the look of disappointment on her face. Why would she help me kill my unborn when hers had been ripped from her?
In high school l adamantly refused to accept abortion no matter the situation.
How hypocritical was l?!
It’s easy to be judgmental when you are not in the situation isn’t it?
Whether it was vanity selfishness or whatever
Why resort to this? Because l am a coward that’s why! I couldn’t face the questions the guilt and the judgemental stares. I had already had that now because what l was now l really couldn’t stomach any more.
Farai! For the past months Farai had made me dare to hope for better. But he had dashed those hopes. His betrayal hurt more than it should have. There was a remote possibility it could have been his but my broken heart would not could not accept it.
There was nothing of me l recognized anymore. I was no longer the carefree happy and ambitious girl my mother had encouraged me to be. This path l was on takes something away from you little by little until you are nothing but a damaged beautiful shell. My life has become an imperfection the hope that kept me going each day has dwindling.
My mother would never be proud of me and that broke me.