ABUSED. Chapter 16

I went home four days later. I got discharged on April 4^th, two days to my birthday. Kayode visited me every day but Damola stayed away. Somehow, I was disappointed. I had enjoyed our chat and our ludo game; he was also the first extended contact I had since I turned my back on my friends. I really appreciated his carefree way; he gave me a sense of normalcy for the couple of hours we spent together.

He showed up one afternoon prior to my discharge. “Your boyfriend will be here soon to take you home,” his eyes were dark and I could swear there was some degree of disapproval in his voice. “Please come back if you experience any dizziness or pains.” He handed me a small nylon full of medications and told me that the schedule for taking them had been written on the small white envelopes containing the pills. He also told me to come in three weeks for a routine check-up.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Damola,” he corrected me and then handed me a piece of paper. “I usually don’t do this but here is my personal number. In case you change your mind about leaving him and you need someone to talk to, I’ll be here anytime you need me.”

It was a genuine selfless gesture and I was really grateful but I was not intending to take him up on his offer. Kayode took me home. Everything was clean; there was no sign of our fight or the blood trail I must have left behind during my agonising attempt to find help.

He had bought a second TV which he placed in the bedroom with a new DVD player. He even got me new books. “Here are both Nollywood and Hollywood movies,” he gestured to the collection on the side table. “All I want you to do for the next few days is to relax and let me pamper you. “

He rearranged the pillows to make me comfortable. The whole trip from the hospital exhausted me and I wanted to take a nap.

“Can I get you anything? Tea, custard, pap?” he looked at me expectantly, eager to play the role of servant.

His caring was overwhelming. I knew he only meant well but I was already secretly wishing I was back to the peace that came with my hospital bed. I never really liked it when people made a huge fuss over me.

“I’m just really tired,” I admitted.

His smile was understanding and he told me he’d let me rest. He caressed my cheek lovingly and I just nodded and avoided looking at the spot where it all started. It felt somehow strange to be in that house again but I just shrugged it off as tiredness.

“I love you Jummy and I’m so glad you’re home.” His eyes reflected happiness and normally, I would have been glad that he was telling me he loved me but I just didn’t feel as glad as he did.

Over the next few days, Kayode stuck to me like loyal lapdog that you feel irritated with but you also need to keep you company. My birthday was treated like just a normal day. I finally clocked 25. He was around me non-stop, he didn’t even go to work. He waited on me hand and foot and fussed over my every move. Nothing was too much for him to do even though I was already moving around the house freely. After a whole, I just gave up on any form of resistance and accepted my fate; after all, I chose this and I needed to make it work because I loved him. My parents called me and berated me for turning my phone off.

“Kiloshele?” my dad bellowed over the phone. “We have been trying to talk to you for over a week now. “Iya e wa worried gan. I’ve been the one telling her to calm down. We called Ola, o kan n fun wan i excuses ni.” I heard my mum in the background telling daddy to pass the phone to her.

“Haa Olajumoke. There’s something you’re not telling us abi. Emi ma ni mo bi e,” she went on and on and I got so emotional, sad and guilty. I wished I would tell her everything my stupidity had caused me but I couldn’t. I assured them everything was okay and lied that I had some issues at work and the stress made me sick; that I didn’t want them to be worried was why I didn’t call to tell them. Mummy asked about Kayode and I said he was fine.

I called my uncle after I dropped the call. No answer.

My attitude towards Kayode changed, I was more jumpy, almost always expecting him to lash out at me for doing something wrong. I was always focusing on his body language; so I’d know when to keep shut or placate him.

Before, I had tried to be the woman he envisioned because I loved him and I wanted to make him happy but now, my main motive was to avoid any beatings. Losing the pregnancy took a huge toll on me and I was sure that if I had taken an abortion if I knew on time, it would have been my choice; my pregnancy wouldn’t be taken away from me violently. Some nights when I sleep; maybe because I always thought of the life that would have been created from me, I dreamt of a smiling baby. A split image of me.

I was a very confusing moment for me and I started thinking that I shouldn’t have pushed away all my friends. I longed to call my mummy and tell her everything but I knew I didn’t have the guts. I wanted to call Aunty Mariam or Ufuoma and Oyin but I was afraid of failure and admitting that I was unprepared for adulthood and an abusive relationship.

I resumed work and received sympathy from my colleagues. I was good as new but I also knew the fairy-tale was too good to be true. I was supposed to go to the hospital for the check-up on Saturday and shit hit the roof again.

“What do you need to go back there for?” he questioned. “You are finally fit and very okay. A few more days and everything will be perfect again.”

“Well, the hospital recommended…”

I was interrupted by the rage in his voice. He frowned and I saw that his face had gone a few shades darker; I instinctively recoiled. “I don’t care what that asshole told you. We both know he likes you and since you’re already okay, going there is unnecessary. So you’re not going, okay?” I nodded. The anger vanished from his face and my tension eased. I was sure my new strategy was working. Anything to avoid conflict was good.

He went put afterwards; said him and his friends needed to go watch a football match and left me at home. I tried to watch a movie but I couldn’t concentrate. There was an uneasiness I couldn’t shake off. I got Damola’s phone number from the paper I hid ;I wanted to hear a friendly voice even though I knew I would get the beating of my life if boo found out. I dialled his number and he picked it almost immediately.

“Hi Damola, it’s Jummy. You gave me your phone number at the hospital three weeks ago.”

“Jummy? Is everything alright?” his concern was audible over the phone.