He Looked Like Home. He Became My Nightmare

I had no one to blame but myself. I fell for his charm. He was such a sweet talker. The perfect boyfriend. I had been grieving the loss of my previous fiancé. My parents had absolutely rejected him due to his tribal origins. My mother had screamed incessantly,
“People from his clan beat up their wives. They don't usually have lasting marriages,” she claimed.

I knew in her mind she was already associating him with her younger sister's husband who had beaten Aunt Mabel until the last drop of blood had left her body. I knew their phobia was strong. But I also knew it was a personality issue rather than tribal, but no one was willing to listen to me.

My boyfriend had tried to plead with them, but they had adamantly refused to bless our marriage. Left to me, I did not care much for their blessings. But my fiancé would have none of it. He was a strong believer, and he refused to get married to me without their blessing. Hence, a relationship of four years ended in the mud.
I was bitter, irritated, and did not want to see my parents. So I packed up and moved to Lagos. It was there I met my knight in shining armour. He was from my clan.

Michael knew the perfect words to say to get me blushing. In six months, I had introduced him to my parents, who accepted him with open arms. He helped me forget Daniel, and I had never seen any form of anger in Michael. He was so peace-loving.
We got married within a year of meeting each other. I wished I could say it was perfect bliss. Having grown up in a loving home and witnessing how my father treated my mother, I knew what a happy home was.

I think the first odd event happened on our wedding night. I had chosen a pink nightgown, but Michael hissed at the sight of me. He screamed for me to change it.
The very next morning, the smell of smoke was what woke me up. I gagged as I rushed to open the windows of our apartment.
I rushed to the living room, where it appeared my husband was having a smoking session. I was appalled and screamed at him.
I shouldn't have done that. I realized later when I woke up in the hospital. He had beaten me until I fell unconscious. Imagine my shock when I woke up to see him by my side, crying and wailing like a madman.

“Baby, I'm sorry. I did not know what came over me,” he cried.
The nurses advised that I report to the police station and have him arrested. But I couldn't. I didn't want my name splashed all over the media. My mother pleaded with me to forgive him. I needed to get him help for his drug abuse, she advised.

My husband was sober for the next two months, but he soon fell back into his drinking and smoking routine. I kept away from him during those times and made sure not to be near him. I began to dread his presence and couldn't speak freely. He nitpicked at the tiniest issues, threw food on the wall, and slapped me for barely looking him in the eye.

There is only so much abuse a woman can take. I guess I threw caution to the wind the day he raised his hand to touch my little boy.
I screamed and fought back. Finally, I packed my bags alongside my child and left the house. By then I had broken ribs, a black eye, and several cuts on my body. I went straight to my mother's house. She had long repented of her desire for me to marry within our tribe, for I noticed no objection was raised when my younger sister brought home a white man. I was the guinea pig, I guessed.

My sister pranced about like an over-righteous she-goat. I couldn't help but be jealous of the man she married. He loved her wholeheartedly.
Michael was arrested with the volume of evidence I had against him and jailed. Mom insisted it was necessary. He was not the type to leave me alone if left free. He would seek me out with his dying breath. Mother made sure I was relocated to another state to live with my son.

Even as I sit and tell my story to the world, I wonder if I will ever find a home where I can gaze at the stars and feel warm. I shivered as I closed the laptop. I want a home where I can rest and forget all the pain of the past.

Thanks for reading.