THE INTROSPECTION CHRONICLES 3| A PLACE OF SILENCES

The man crept along the hallway, his eyes peering into every dark space, his neck swinging back and forth. His bare feet barely made a sound, as he moved through the silence and darkness with the assurance of one who has done this before. He stopped before a door and turned the doorknob. The door creaked open and he smiled. It was dark in the room, but he could see the small form curled at the far end of the bed, pressed against the wall, trying to be invisible in the darkness. The form whimpered a liquid plea.

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_{Unsplash:Ormid Armin}

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“It is good that you kept the door opened this time. You would not have enjoyed what I would have had to do to you to make you understand.” The man said as he climbed onto the bed.

His eyes glittered in the semi darkness and hunger burnt through, searing the form on the far end with fear and pain.

“Please. I will not tell her. I want to sleep. Please father.” The form whispered her soft plea.

The man grabbed the girl's arm, for the form was but a girl and squeezed her arm hard.

“Don’t call me father. I am not your father. Call me Samson. That is how lovers call each other, by their first name or with endearments. Are you not my lover?” Samson asked, his voice soft as he squeezed harder and drew closer to the girl.

The girl nodded her yes, her voice frozen in her throat like a beast before headlights. Samson smiled and slid beside the girl then he drew her into his arms and began to kiss her. The girl laid stiff in his arms, her eyes wide with fear, bright with tears. The man didn't care. He slowly unbuttoned her pajamas top, revealing her breasts beneath. He rubbed a thumb over her nipple then he squeezed it hard between his thumb and index finger. The girl’s eyes widened in the pain but she held the scream inside her. She had been warned before and she knew the consequences of screaming.

“Good girl. You are learning. Don't you see that your mother is happy now. She has stopped drinking and I am not longer beating her. This is all thanks to you. You are the one who is making everyone happy. Isn't that great? Now raise those hips, let us see how far we’ve come. Have you missed me?” he asked, sliding the pajama trouser down.

“Yes, I missed you, Samson.” The girl’s voice floated like a lost ghost out from within her body as she raised her body’s hips and watched the man push her panties and trouser out of the way of her sex.

She stood aside and watched the man climb on top of her body and press it into the bed. She picked the rosary and began to count the beads;

“Hail Mary full of grace, the lord is with you, blessed are you among women…” she prayed as her body was consumed like flesh and blood. She no longer wondered if anyone heard her prayers. It was not even a prayer anymore. It was simply a mantra that parted her from pain and built a wall around the fear and shame she felt inside her.

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Doris watched her daughter’s silent face and wondered for the umpteenth time what sort of thoughts ran through her teenage brain. She had tried everything to make her come out of her shell but she remained frozen within, talking only when spoken to, keeping no friends, always neatly dressed and the neatness annoyed her to no end. It was not like she didn’t like a place to be clean or a body to be well cared for but her daughter’s own case was a mania. She bathed four or five times a day, washed her clothes every other day, cleaned and mopped her room every day and her bed had a fresh bedsheet every day. it was too much yet that is the one thing she got to be stubborn about, so she left her alone with her eccentric behavior. She pushed the thought away;

“How was school today, Cynthia?” She asked, stirring her spoon inside the pepper soup she had in front of her, as she watched her daughter's face.

“Fine ma.” Cynthia replied, chewing the piece of yam before replying.

“I have told you time and time again to stop calling me ma. You make me feel old. Why can’t you call me by my name, Osato. Is that too much trouble?” She asked, irritation showing in the tone of her voice.

“If you say so ma.” Cynthia replied.

The woman sighed in frustration. That was another thing, she had noted about this docile lamb of a daughter; she called her husband by his name but still referred to her as ma or mother.

“Please ma, I want to go for confession.” Cynthia said.

The woman shook her head. When she was her daughter’s age, all she cared about was boys, shoes, clothes and makeup not dowdy old priests and dreary church walls. Her daughter was nothing like her at all. Maybee she would do better with her father’s people.

“Cynthia, would you like to go back to your father’s people. Your grandmother would absolutely love to have you.” She asked.

“No mother, you promised that I won’t have to go back there.” There was a hitch in the girl’s voice that spoke of an old fear.

The woman withdrew. She had never found out what happened back there before are daughter came back to her but she knows Cynthia would rather die than go back there.

“It’s okay. I am not saying you must go or even go now. I was just thinking that maybe a change of atmosphere would be good for you?” She said.

“I am fine here ma. I don’t want to go anywhere else.” Cynthia replied.

“Why are you disturbing the child, darling? She loves it here.” Samson spoke from behind the woman before placing a kiss on her cheek.

The woman’s face took on a glow on seeing the man. He was a beautiful sight to see; so tall, so handsome, skin so smooth and he smelled so good. She smiled at him, forgetting her daughter, who had folded into her chair, making her body as small as possible.

“Darling, you were so tired last night so I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.” She said.

“You are a rare gem, my love. I am well rested now, thank you. I was thinking of taking Cynthia out shopping, do you want to come along?” Samson asked.

“Oh no. I have to be at one of my client’s home for home service this afternoon. You guys can go together.” The woman replied.

“Oh okay, I will miss you though.” He replied, smiling.

The girl’s eyes widened at her mother’s words. She looked at the woman for a split second, all her pain in her eyes but by the time her mother turned from admiring her husband; the girl’s face was a blank slate. The man on the other hand had seen the girl’s face and he smiled widely. He had so much planned for that afternoon.

“Are you okay, Cynthia?” The woman asked.

The man’s face froze into a hard mask and the girl saw from the corner of her eyes. She swallowed and nodded her head. She remembered telling her mother once before that Samson had crept into her room at night to touch her. Her mother bad made her apologise to Samson for lying. She was fine. The man smiled. The woman smiled. She tried to smile.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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