I Have Finally Killed The Father of My Child

"Love may have the longest arms, but it can still fall short of an embrace." - Megan McCafferty

Love has never been and can never be enough.

June 2017 made it one year since I last spoke with the love of my life. 

I shocked myself that cold July evening when I typed "I can't do this anymore." He must have thought it was my usual banter. I also thought it was.

But, I went ahead and blocked him everywhere. Phone numbers and social media. 

When he called me from his friend's phone number, I blocked that too. 

Then, he realized that this time was different. This was not usual. I was truly letting go.

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I met Vin during my third year in college. Our mutual friends introduced us.

At the time I knew him as the boy who liked to wear the number seven Lakers jersey. He wore that whenever he came to our hostel. The one with the charming smile and immaculate jet black hair. I would later discover that he knew nothing about the game of basketball.

We did not hit it off immediately. Our "Hi" to each other only became more and more frequent. Until that night when we stayed up through the night talking about everything and nothing. I never forget how I got his phone number. We played a game. He'd told me he had an older brother who was better looking, and I asked to be introduced to him. Then, he reels out his supposed brother's phone number which I hurriedly dialed. But then, his phone rang beside our seat.

Then he said, "You can call me anytime."

Our alikeness was our strength against the popular notion of Opposites attract. We enjoyed the same things. 

You were sure to always find us home - his or mine, studying, having deep intellectual conversations. Bonding over Sia or cooking together when we were not taking classes. Our conversations easily swapped from how much soil sample affects building construction, to the latest '007.

He was an engineering genius. I could listen to him talk about soil science and technology all day. I was there to cheer him up whenever he represented the school at competitions. Listening to him talk about why his idea was more sustainable than others always gave me a rush. Still does as I remember it.

My brain drew him to me. I could hold my own as much as him. He looked forward to listening to me on the school radio channel. I read the news.

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When Jennifer Lowe wrote Don't fall in love with a smart introverted man, she did not lie. I went and fell headfirst in love. It still hurts.

Vin was emotionally unavailable. He had his life's program outlined in his head. From the number of years of experience, he needed to have before applying to grad school, to the age when he'll get married. Falling in love and having enough to fend for the family was not a criterion.

It will only happen at his time. Only his.

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His next punch makes me come to.

I'm on the floor. I cannot feel my eyes. My ears are ringing. Loud.

His weight is crushing me. He is leaning on my thighs. Hard. I can't see but I don't need to. I feel him. His hands. On my neck and then as basketballs on my face. On my head. Repeatedly.

He repeats "Die bitch". "Die."

I don't want to die. I can't die. I have to stay. For my baby. For Nne.

She would die if I leave her with this monster. Her innocent spirit will never forgive me.

With a deep breath, I grab his balls. The same ones that dance around me when we make love. I don't stop squeezing as he screams. I am half-blind, but I know his body like I know mine. And I know my kitchen like the back of my palm.

We were on the floor near the dining table. I only need to hold unto him till we get to the sink. The knife I used to slice the desserts for dinner was there. I do not give up my pressure on those balls. By this time, I feel him jerking in pain. My other hand reaches up for the knife. Please, be there. Then, I feel it. That metal handle I have gotten so used to in the past two years. I grab unto it but am unsure of where to stab. I surely do not want him dead.

So I start screaming.

"I've killed him"

"I've finally killed him."

I wanted my neighbors to hear this and come. He is not moving again at this time. He had warned them never to interfere the first time my screams for help brought them over. I wanted to scream something different, so they'll come to my aid.

Nobody came.

Soon, I hear the sirens. They had called the police instead. I don't let go of the knife or his balls even when I hear footfalls in the room. And when I feel the heat of their torch in my face asking "Where does it hurt?" When they pry my fingers from around him, I hear someone shout "We've got a pulse."

That was all I needed to hear before I slipped out of consciousness again. Back to my safe space. Back to Vin who never wanted me enough. Who made me settle for this devil.