Deep Scar

Episode I

If you are reading this, it means I am confined in a tiny room with a small window that barely allows a ray of sunshine to filter through.

This is not the life I envisioned, not the path I had imagined, and certainly not what Mama prayed for.

But let’s not dwell on my lamentations; let me take you through my story instead.

My name is Samuel Obinna Madi.

I was born in the 70s to Mr. and Mrs. Obinna Madi. My father was renowned as a top businessman, engaging in numerous legal ventures that I lost count of.

My mother was a full-time homemaker. Right from the start, Dad insisted she was too beautiful to work, claiming he was protecting Mrs. Madi from admirers. He often used Mom to showcase his wealth, and I cherished watching them interact, especially Dad’s playful gestures of removing things from her face when we went out.

I always prayed to have such a bond with my wife when I grew up. Whenever Mom caught me smiling at them, she’d say, “ị ga-eme nke ọma.”

We grew up in abundance, never lacking for anything we needed or wanted. However, this upbringing didn’t instill any sense of egoism or selfishness in my sister, Adanna Obinna, and me.

Our life followed a routine. Weekdays were for school, Saturdays for picnics with Mom, and Sundays for church gatherings and house fellowship, where Dad would chauffeur us in his immaculate Peugeot 504.

Despite Dad’s busy schedule with business trips and the demands of running a company, he always made time for us on Sundays.

Sunday rice with the whole family gathered around the dining table was a cherished tradition. Dad would regale us with jokes, tease Mom, and then initiate games of hide-and-seek, Ludo, or educational activities before bedtime.

Life was good, life was sweet, life was wholesome—until I was about to embark on my journey to college (university).

Episode II 

We were engaged in our usual relaxed conversation one beautiful Sunday evening when Mom suddenly collapsed while reaching for something, either in her room or the kitchen—I can’t recall the exact location.

Dad swiftly rushed to her side, catching her before she hit the ground, and exclaimed, “nweta igodo m, nweta m mmiri Ada.”

My sister and I hurriedly obeyed Dad’s instructions, inadvertently colliding as we did so. I could sense Ada’s tears welling up already.

I knew I had to stay strong. Hastily, I retrieved Dad’s keys from their usual spot and rushed to his side. Simultaneously, Ada fetched the water. Dad instructed me to sprinkle some on Mom’s face while he hurried to retrieve money from his safe.

Together, we managed to transport Mom to the hospital. The doctor recommended admission because the test results were inconclusive, necessitating medication.

I could feel Dad’s heart racing faster than Usain Bolt’s. It was the first time I’d seen him so vulnerable—threatened, scared, and weakened. He gazed at Mom without blinking, uttering words barely audible to anyone else. Then, I witnessed a tear trickle down his cheek.

Approaching him, I wiped away the tear. “Nna, you need to take your sister home and be her father. I will stay with Mom; I am so weak,” he murmured.

I nodded, asked him for transport fare, which he provided, and then took my sister’s hand, leaving Dad to tend to Mom.

Unable to attend school the following day, we busied ourselves cleaning the house to ease Mom’s workload upon her discharge from the hospital. I prepared Mom’s favorite beans dish, but disappointment set in when neither Mom nor Dad returned on Monday.

On Thursday afternoon, we heard Dad’s car approaching and rushed out eagerly, searching for Mom like a lost coin. However, upon seeing her, my heart sank.

She appeared frail, depleted—just three days in the hospital, and she looked like this? I mused silently, not expecting an answer.

As we rushed toward her, Dad cautioned us, “Mommy is not too strong, easy, easy.”

Approaching her cautiously, I observed her struggling to conjure a smile. I gently held her hands, which felt incredibly light, and whispered, “We miss you.”

She managed a smile, enveloping both Adanna and me tightly against her chest as we entered the house. “I am well now, dim,” she reassured.

That night, sleep eluded me as I fretted over Mom’s condition and contemplated returning to school the following week. How would I manage knowing Mom wasn’t herself? Her faint smile haunted my thoughts as I tried to drift off.

The night seemed interminable, but I made it through the next day.

Episode III 

Dad insisted I go to school, assuring me he’d take care of Mom while I was away.

As I bid farewell to my family, a wave of reality hit me—I had been living in a bubble, shielded from the harshness of life.

My heart rebelled against the new chapter I was about to embark upon, but I lacked the courage to voice my reluctance to Dad. I couldn’t bear to tell him I didn’t want to leave because I’d miss them terribly.

Dad dropped me off at the park where I would catch a bus to my out-of-state college. Mom’s illness prevented him from accompanying me for too long.

On the bus, I scrutinized my fellow passengers, my innocent mind fretting about the possibility of kidnappers or robbers among us. Traveling alone was a novel experience for me, one I hadn’t anticipated. If not for Mom’s illness, Dad would have been by my side.

I arrived at school well past 7 PM and immediately called home to reassure them of my safe journey before drifting off to sleep.

The following day, I fell into the routine of my fellow hostel mates. I attempted to strike up friendships with some guys I spotted hanging their freshly washed clothes. We exchanged pleasantries, and they offered their advice and assistance whenever needed.

Adjusting to life at school wasn’t as daunting as I had feared. I grew accustomed to being away from home and gradually embraced my new reality. Dad made sure I lacked nothing, and I made it a point to speak with Mom before bedtime every day, though as exams approached, my calls home became less frequent.

Studying medicine kept me occupied, and my primary focus was making Mom and Dad proud.

When the first semester exams concluded, my thoughts turned to returning home to see my family, especially Mom.

The night before my journey home, I attempted to reach Dad, but he didn’t pick up. I began to worry he was upset because I hadn’t been in touch for almost a week due to exams and assignments.

My attempts to call Mom were also unsuccessful, so I resolved to head home the next day.

At the park, I tried calling again, and this time my sister answered. Immediately, I was met with frantic cries of “Brother, brother!”

Concerned, I asked Ada what was wrong, but she struggled to articulate the problem through her tears. Assuring her that I was on my way home, I tried to calm my racing thoughts as I embarked on what felt like an eternity-long journey.

Many thoughts raced through my mind, but I knew I had to remain composed and focused as I navigated the journey ahead.

Episode IV 

I finally arrived home and hurriedly checked on Mom, praying fervently that nothing bad had befallen her.

“God forbid anything bad has happened to her,” I repeated to myself, my heart pounding with fear.

As I entered the room, my worst fears were realized. Mom lay still, her red, swollen eyes fixed on the ceiling, her hands clenched between her stretched legs.

Rushing to her side, I attempted to ask her what had happened. Suddenly, I noticed my uncle Nduka emerging from Dad’s room, his expression somber.

Desperate for answers, I approached him, and he delivered the words that would haunt me for years: “Nna, you have to hold yourself and be strong. Your daddy has gone to be with the Lord.”

Before he could even finish the word “Lord,” I fled from his presence and dashed into my father’s room.

There he lay, motionless. My gaming buddy, my rock, now lay before me, devoid of life or the joy that once radiated from his presence.

I drew closer to him, almost in disbelief, as if expecting him to suddenly stir and smile at my arrival. But he remained still, his eyes closed, cotton wool in his nose.

My heart refused to accept the reality before me. I felt no surge of adrenaline, only a profound sense of disbelief and numbness.

As I knelt beside him, my soul seemed to depart from my body. My eyes remained fixed on his face, hoping against hope for any sign of life.

But as soon as I touched his cold body, the weight of reality crashed down upon me. All I could do was scream—a primal, gut-wrenching cry of anguish that echoed through the house.

It wasn’t just pain that consumed me; it was a profound sense of loss and devastation that defied words. Tears may not have flowed from my eyes, but my heart bled with an intensity that words could never convey.

I held onto him tightly, screaming into the void, until my uncles and Mom’s tears finally compelled me to release my grip.

Each step I took away from him felt like a dagger to my heart. The agony I experienced that day defied description; it was a pain that could never be captured in mere words.

Episode V 

Later in the evening, the house fell into an eerie silence. I couldn’t bring myself to approach Mom; nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

The question echoed incessantly in my mind: How could my father die? It gnawed at my subconscious, demanding answers that I couldn’t provide.

I felt overwhelmed, unable to muster the strength to do anything. All I could think about was how to navigate a world that now felt devoid of Dad’s presence.

How would I cope with the emotional, financial, and mental pain that threatened to engulf me all at once?

In the darkness of my room, memories flooded back—laughter, joy, and the games we played together. I recalled his deep baritone voice, his favorite white shirt, his beloved milk-colored shoes, his gleaming smile, and the endearing nickname he bestowed upon me, “Nna.”

As these memories washed over me, tears streamed down my face—a silent, steady cascade of pain. Each tear bore witness to the agony that gripped my soul.

I couldn’t recall what time I eventually drifted off to sleep, but I awoke the next day with a pounding migraine, an empty stomach, and blurred vision.

Dragging myself to Mom, her presence served as a stark reminder of the harsh reality we faced. She sat in the living room, seemingly unchanged from when I had last seen her upon returning from school.

Approaching her tentatively, I tried to coax her into action—urging her to bathe, eat, and take her medication, as she was still recovering. But she withdrew from my grasp, uttering words that pierced my heart: “Allow me to stay here; this is where the love of my life gave up on me.”

Her pain mirrored my own, amplifying the weight of our loss.

In the month following Dad’s burial, the finality of his absence became painfully apparent. We struggled to piece together our shattered lives, grappling with the harsh reality of moving forward without him.

Unable to return to school due to my fragile state and the bureaucratic hurdles imposed by the bank regarding Dad’s finances, I found myself mired in frustration and despair.

Mom resolved to leave Dad’s money untouched in the bank, opting instead to accompany me to Dad’s shop to assess the situation and carry on his legacy.

As we approached Dad’s shop, little did we know that we were about to encounter yet another shocking revelation.


Episode VI 

Mom and I arrived at Daddy’s shop, only to find his employees working as if nothing had happened. The sight of the shop operating without her knowledge ignited Mom’s fury.

Venturing inside, Mom confronted Uncle Nduka, who was busy jotting down notes in a ledger. She demanded to know why Daddy’s shop was open without her consent, but Uncle Nduka had the audacity to declare himself the head of our family. He dismissed Mom’s concerns, insisting she focus on mourning Dad rather than asserting her rights to the family’s assets.

Shocked by Uncle Nduka’s audacious claim, Mom attempted to reason with him, explaining her lack of educational qualifications and her dependence on Daddy for financial support. However, Uncle Nduka remained unmoved, asserting his authority and withholding the family’s properties until Mom reached the age of 30. He callously suggested that Mom seek employment or return to her father’s house if she couldn’t manage.

Mom’s expression fell, her hands trembling as she grasped mine. We left the shop in silence, uncertainty looming over our heads.

Back home, Mom retreated to her bed, her desolation palpable. Meanwhile, I sat in the living room, grappling with the harsh reality of our situation.

Months passed without any financial support from Uncle Nduka. Our dire circumstances prevented me from returning to school; we struggled to afford even the basic necessities.

Mom, no longer able to reach Uncle Nduka by phone, resorted to contacting his wife for assistance. However, she received a harsh rebuke, warning her not to involve her in family matters.

The irony of the situation was not lost on us—this was the same woman Mom had supported in times of need, yet she now turned her back on us.

Later that evening, Uncle Nduka paid us a visit, accusing Mom of attempting to blackmail him. Amidst his tirade, he made a shocking accusation, insinuating that Mom was responsible for Dad’s death.

His words cut deep, but we remained silent, unable to retaliate against such baseless accusations.

Mom’s only response was a quiet lament: “ebee ka dim no”

Episode VII

Days turn into weeks and my uncle refused to send us money for upkeep and the most devastating thing is mom not knowing how to pay Ada senior WAEC examination fee. 

I could see mom draining, she tried selling her attires but could not get reasonable amount from it. 

I wished dad did not die as an intestate (no Will) 

I kept on wishing he would give mom his property, I wished he was open to mom. 

My wishes were baseless because the dead can do nothing. 

I watched mom cry in bed and wake up with swollen eyes almost every night. 

A month before Ada’s exam, Ada came home happy, she said a friend paid for her exam fee. 

That was the first time since dad died, I saw mom’s face brighten with a smile. 

Mom tried to know who the friend was so she could say thank you at least, Ada said the person wants to be unknown. We were happy knowing that the burden was off. 

We kept on living life as it comes. 

Some days we will eat, some days we will not.  

Ada was the one feeding the family from the money she said she gets from washing plates for a food vendor. 

I got a job in a construction firm as an errand boy while I learned some skills from them since I had no skills. 

My take home was small, but I was happy to assist my family. 

Exactly 5months after dad’s burial, some men in suit came to evacuate us from the home we were born into. 

from the home we share so Many memories with dad. 

From the home we grew to love and feel secure in. 

They asked us to leave with just our clothes because they bought everything in the house. 

That day was the first time I broke down in front of people. 

I wished my uncle was present, I would have torn his body with my fingers. 

The pain I felt that day was deep, it was like that of the day dad died. 

How can life change so quickly? 

How can bad things happen at the same time to the same person? 

Why are people cruel? 

What is the need of life when we must suffer so much? 

These and many more were running through my mind. 

I watched my mom gently park a few of her things because she had no strength to fight or do anything. 

I was crying as I parked, and mom came to me and spoke. 

” Park son let go, your dad might have left me broken, frustrated and poor but I got you both through him, so I have everything ” 

My sister was crying and vomiting profusely. 

She looked like someone that is over stressed and will faint anytime soon. 

I was angry seeing how my mom and sister were and I could do nothing. 

I wanted to do something, but I had no idea how to go about it. 

Why can’t I help or do something? 

Why can’t I handle the situation? 

I wanted to do things beyond me, but I had no clue of what to do. 

This life was new to me. 

The situation was unfamiliar and unfair. 

The mishap was draining! 

We left, we left not knowing where to go to or how to change the narrative. 

We began staying under the bridge in the same locale. 

I can’t write about the experience of our first night under the bridge. 

I have a mark on my head till date which I got from our first night under the bridge from the guy that raped mom. 

We got to the bridge and got a spot for ourselves while trying to accept fate. 

We ate bread and water for dinner and relaxed under the bridge waiting for night to come so we could sleep and forget the pain a little bit. 

We were sleeping when I heard my sister faint voice (they tried covering her mouth) mom and i woke up to two half drunken men trying to tie my sister down to have their way with her. 

My mom stood up with all her strength and pushed the first guy and the second one hit her which made her fall. 

Seeing that, I stood up with all the anger in me and began to bounce on the guy that hit mom without knowing the other guy had a knife and he struck me so hard that i almost passed out. I fell back and my mom rushed to me. 

They began to laugh and cheer themselves on in languages I can’t even type. 

I used my hand to hold my head, my sister rushed towards me shaking/crying. 

The men still wanted to have their way with her so mom in between coughing and tears flowing from her eye gave herself, she said. 

” Have your way with me but leave my child, do whatsoever pleases you with my body but please spare my little baby” 

I tried standing up but could not stand it due to the pain from my cut. 

I heard their laugh, and one of the guys said. 

” We will f**k” your mom in your presence and you will do nothing” 

Hah, the word tore me. I died that night, yes, I died! 

There is this pain you will go through you will never be okay again. 

That night changed me, that night broke me as I saw the two of them using my mom’s body to laugh. 

As they bounced on her with pleasure, I could hear my mom’s silent cry.

Episode VIII 

That night remains vivid in my mind, evoking emotions I detest. Despite the passing years, the memory remains as fresh as I type these words.

Mom tended to my wounds and provided pain relief the next day. Eventually, we had to vacate our spot under the bridge for another location—a bus stop with a roof. Though humble, it provided some security with streetlights at night. During this time, Mom attempted to reach out to Dad’s relatives for help, but none came.

My uncle’s wealth and refusal to relinquish Dad’s property left us struggling to make ends meet. Dad’s lack of a will or disclosure of his assets left us vulnerable. Mom’s appearance, deteriorating health, and the daily struggle to survive were painful to witness. People mistook her for a beggar and occasionally offered her money.

Ada, returning from her job washing plates, often brought food and essentials. Mom grew suspicious of her spending, but Ada denied any wrongdoing. I continued my work as an errand boy, saving up to secure a room apartment in the rural community.

One evening, Ada sent a message through someone else, and that was the last time I saw her. She left without a word, leaving a void in our lives. Mom, unable to cry, simply collapsed as the message was delivered. Ada’s departure shattered us, leaving an unfillable void.

I tried to fulfill multiple roles for Mom, but I knew I couldn’t replace Ada. Mom’s health deteriorated further, with constant coughing and blood in her mouth. I prayed fervently for her recovery, fearing her imminent demise. Despite buying medications, her condition didn’t improve. She remained silent and immobile, fixated on an unseen spot.

One evening, while working on the construction site, I encountered a friend from church who had become wealthy. His transformation shocked and amazed me. Despite his impoverished background, his newfound prosperity was evident. He barely recognized me in my altered state.

After explaining our plight, he pledged to help. He treated me to food, clothes, drinks, and medication for Mom. His generosity filled me with hope and assurance. That night, despite our circumstances, I slept soundly, grateful for his kindness. He restored my faith in humanity and offered a glimmer of hope in our darkest hour.

Episode IX 

Every evening, Sunday would join us at the bus stop, and we’d share laughter and good times. One evening, he proposed that I accompany him to Malaysia, albeit with the condition that I fund my expenses. Entranced by the prospect of a better future, I eagerly agreed. Sunday assured me that he’d care for Mom and make arrangements for her to stay with his mother.

Filled with excitement, Mom and I began to dream of better days. I withdrew all my savings, meant for securing an apartment, to fund my journey. Sunday assured me that my papers would be ready in three weeks, and Mom would join his mother a day before our departure. Hope restored my vigor, and I worked diligently, envisioning a brighter future.

Mom prayed fervently for my success in Malaysia, eager to leave behind our dire circumstances. However, as the three weeks passed, Sunday vanished without a trace. Anxious and unable to reach him, I became distraught. My work suffered, and Mom’s health deteriorated further. Despite my attempts to reassure her, the uncertainty gnawed at me.

After two months of silence, I mustered the courage to inquire about Sunday’s whereabouts from my boss. Heartbroken, I learned that Sunday had returned to Malaysia, leaving me in the dark. Desperate, I managed to obtain his Malaysian number and called him, only to be met with callous laughter and empty promises.

Devastated by his betrayal, I collapsed in despair. Life lost its meaning, and I questioned the value of helping others. Returning home, I sought solace in Mom’s embrace, but her frailty only intensified my anguish. Unable to work, I spiraled into despair, haunted by memories of Sunday’s deception.

With Mom’s health rapidly declining, I pleaded with Sunday for assistance, only to be rebuffed callously. Abandoning hope, I watched helplessly as Mom suffered, her condition worsening by the day. Unable to bear her agony, I turned away, consumed by guilt and despair.

Eventually, I returned to find Mom cold and lifeless, her body coated in blood. In that moment, all semblance of emotion evaporated, replaced by a numb acceptance of her passing. Clutching her lifeless form, I vowed vengeance against Sunday for his betrayal.

Episode X

I left her cold body and went away. Listen, there is this pain you will feel you become numb and useless.  All you do is stare, move away and just keep moving without destination and your mind in a blank state. 

I was walking with no fears or directions, I just kept on going.  I got to a spot and sat down, no tears, nothing!  Just looking at the stars as they perform their duty of shining at night, I wished I could shine too. 

Leaving behind the pain of losing my mother, I found myself in front of a police officer’s gate, drained and emotionally spent. The officer, witnessing my distress, offered me kindness and hospitality, directing his staff to attend to my needs until his return. Grateful for his compassion, I accepted his offer and found solace in a much-needed rest.

Upon awakening, I was summoned to meet the officer, hoping for a chance to express my gratitude. Pouring out my story, I observed empathy reflected in his eyes. When asked about my aspirations, I shared my dream of becoming a doctor, despite the seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Moved by my determination, the officer promised to consider my request and offered me a position assisting with various tasks in exchange for food, shelter, and a modest stipend.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, I embraced this new opportunity, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and hope. The officer’s generosity extended further as he provided funds for new clothes, a haircut, and sandals. With Mr. Saviour’s guidance, I embarked on a journey of transformation, rekindling my spirit and embracing the possibilities ahead.

Life in Mr. Benedict’s household offered stability and warmth. Despite occasional struggles, Mr. Saviour’s support was unwavering, and Mr. Benedict became a beacon of joy and encouragement. Together, we shared moments of laughter, camaraderie, and optimism, fostering a sense of belonging and family.

After six months of hard work and saving, Mr. Benedict recognized my potential and encouraged me to pursue higher education. Overwhelmed by his generosity, I eagerly accepted his offer and embarked on the next chapter of my journey, filled with newfound hope and determination. With Mr. Benedict’s guidance, I took the first steps toward realizing my dream, setting the stage for a brighter future ahead.?

Episode XI 

I went to purchase my jamb form, opened an account and went to show him the receipt. 

He was happy for me and told me he will get me textbooks to prepare for the jamb. 

I read with everything in me, I wanted to impress Mr. Benedict and passing jamb at first trial like I did before will be a good thing. 

Luckly for me I passed the cut off mark for medicine and I got admitted into one of the best universities in Nigeria. 

The day I had been waiting for came, the day I would be going to school, and I kept on crying. 

I was crying tears of pain and happiness. 

It was a combination of different emotions rolling through my heart. 

I saw the sadness on Mr. Saviour’s face, but I am sure he was happy for me. 

I hugged him tight as I was about to leave with Mr. Benedict. 

On our way, Mr. Benedict kept on advising me. Telling me not to forget my story and not to leave the reason why I am in school for something else. 

He said so Many things that I will hold on to for life. I thanked him, hugged him and then went to get my school items out of his car. 

Mr. Benedict rented a good apartment for me without having to share anything with anyone. 

Some days are hard due to my past pains; however, I did not relent. 

I did excellently well in my first year and went home for the holiday. 

It was a beautiful period because by that time the house was fuller than I left it. 

Madam and her daughter Juliet were back from the state. 

It was good to be back home, Mr. Benedict did the introduction between his family and I and It took Juliet and I no time to click. 

She will come to the boys’ quarters to say hello, sit with me for some hours before leaving. 

Days turned into weeks, and I had to go back to school. I was sad leaving because at this point Juliet and I had created a bond which seemed genuine, but I had to leave. 

Before leaving, Mr. Benedict got me a phone so he can reach me anytime he wants to. 

He sang praises of my name and advised me to remain focused and not forget where I am coming from. 

I left for school, and I could see Juliet waving behind the car as I left. 

Immediately when I got to school, I called Mr. Benedict to let him know I was in school and called Juliet, who was sounding sad. We spoke for a long time, and I promised to always check up on her. 

Juliet and I started dating in my 300level, but it was a hidden affair, she asked me out and I accepted (i was too shy and scared to ask her first, thankfully she did) 

I did well in school all through my stay in school and I graduated as one of the best students in medicine with seven awards. 

It was time to go back home, and I could not wait to start working. 

There are days when I am so down with the fact I don’t know where my sister is and my mom is not here to see me doing excellently well in my career, she loved but I always console myself with the fact that she is proud anywhere she is. 

Juliet was working as an accountant before I finished school and her parent were on her neck concerning settling down and when she will bring a man home. 

She keeps telling them to chill, it will happen with the right person at the right time. 

One evening while Mr. Benedict was having a family dinner (I was asked to join) Juliet asked for the attention of everyone then went ahead to say. 

Dear, (facing me) when will you let mommy and daddy know about our relationship?” 

Oh no! 

I felt my heart leave as Mr. Benedict looked at me with an emotionless eye. 

I began to say medical jargon, I could not breath properly, words were hard to come out and the Juliet of a human was busy smiling. 

Episode XII 

As Juliet’s unexpected question hung in the air, I felt a wave of panic wash over me. My heart raced, and my mind struggled to find the right words. Mr. Benedict’s gaze bore into me, his expression unreadable, adding to my apprehension.

Attempting to gather my thoughts, I stammered, my voice faltering as I searched for an appropriate response. My mind raced with medical terminology, a futile attempt to deflect the situation. But Juliet’s unwavering smile only intensified my discomfort, her eyes filled with anticipation.

In that moment of uncertainty, I realized the weight of Juliet’s question. It wasn’t merely about our relationship, but also about the acceptance of her family, particularly Mr. Benedict. The thought of disappointing him, after all he had done for me, filled me with dread.

Struggling to compose myself, I took a deep breath and met Mr. Benedict’s gaze with sincerity. With trembling words, I expressed my deep respect and gratitude for him, acknowledging the significance of his opinion. Yet, I hesitated to reveal the truth, torn between my love for Juliet and my fear of disappointing her father figure.

As the tension thickened in the room, I felt the weight of my silence pressing down on me. But before I could muster the courage to speak, Mr. Benedict’s demeanor softened, and he offered a reassuring smile. In that moment, I understood the depth of his understanding and compassion.

With a gentle nod from Mr. Benedict, I found the courage to address Juliet’s question directly. With sincerity and honesty, I shared my feelings for her and my commitment to our relationship. Despite my initial apprehension, I felt a sense of relief wash over me as I voiced my truth.

To my surprise and relief, Mr. Benedict’s response was one of acceptance and support. His words of encouragement and blessing filled me with gratitude, easing my fears and reaffirming my belief in our love. In that moment, I realized that true acceptance comes from the heart, transcending any fears or doubts.

As we continued our meal, the atmosphere lightened, and laughter filled the room once more. With Mr. Benedict’s unwavering support, I felt a renewed sense of confidence in our relationship and in the future that lay ahead. And as I glanced at Juliet, her smile radiated with joy and love, filling my heart with warmth and happiness.

After working for two years, I decided it was time to get married to Juliet. 

She has been an amazing woman and lover to me. I could not wait to spend forever with her. 

I still think of my family and imagine how life would have been if dad did not die, if my sister and mom were around but reality still stands. 

We got married and I can proudly say Juliet is the most amazing wife on earth. 

We lived happily at home, and before our first anniversary God blessed us with a baby boy. 

Life was going on fine, 6months after our first child Juliet took in again. Thankfully she gave birth to our twins safely. 

My family made me a happy man but there is still that wound somewhere which eats me up whenever I am alone, I try to always be occupied. 

I tried to create time for my kids and try my best to be a good husband to my darling wife. 

3years into marriage life, our journey was going well and beautiful until my wife decided we take an Alone Time without our kids to Spain. 

She has always wanted to visit Spain; during August holiday we took the kids to her parent’s house, and we went to Spain. 

I could not wait to have my wife all to myself. We were supposed to spend two weeks in Spain before coming back. 

5days after landing in Spain, my wife asked me to quickly get some groceries from the store and pick up some ice-cream for us. 

I ordered a ride and went to a store close by. I knew I wouldn’t be spending much time in the store I asked the rider to wait for me, so I don’t get to order another ride. 

I promised to pay him for his time wasted and thankfully he agreed. 

As I was shopping guess who I saw? 


Yes, I saw him with a white lady shopping. 

oh, my dear heart dropped! 

I wanted to faint, 

I was staring at him with all my body shaking due to anger, pain and hurt. 

I saw how he was smiling, looking fine and fresh. 

He took my smiling face and here he was smiling. 

I quickly dropped the item I picked up and walked out to the car. 

The rider was shocked to see me come out that early, I told him to please help me trace someone who is my brother and has been missing for years. He bought my lies and followed all the instructions I gave. 

We followed Sunday to his house; I took all the details I would need, and we drove back to the store to get what my wife wanted and got some things for the driver. 

On our way to get the ice cream I jokingly asked the rider where they sell guns in this location. 

He was shocked and asked why I wanted to purchase one. I said for protection bro, nothing more. 

He said he has some and can sell one to me if I don’t mind. 

I was glad I met the guy! I got his contact and told him I will reach out to him soon. 

I was happy, sad, angry and hurt. 

There were a lot of emotions which I can’t explain but I managed to put myself together as I got home. 

My wife was a bit inquisitive because of the time I came back but I was able to put her mind to rest with some excuses. 

Episode XIII 

I spent the rest of the day in deep thought, my wife noticed and was trying to find out what the issue was, but I kept assuring her I was fine. 

I could not sleep that night, I could not wait to watch Sunday’s blood flow, I just could not wait to see him fighting to survive. 

As early as 4am I called the rider, and he told me to wait for him. 

I sneaked out of the house in black and black tracksuit as the rider called. 

I got into his car, and he brought out different guns for me to choose from. I selected the one I wanted and made a transfer to him. 

I could not trust him enough to take me to Sunday’s house since he traced him the other day, so I asked him to leave. 

I ordered another ride, thankfully I got a rider. 

Immediately he dropped me at Sunday’s place I walked straight to his apartment praying he will be alone because I don’t want to kill anyone else… 

I knocked for 20minutes before I heard a male voice asking. 

Who is that?” 

I took a deep breath and answered. 

Your neighbor I have an issue please.” 

As he was about to open the door when I rushed inside, I hit the back of the gun on his head and kicked him on his manhood. 

Gave him another hit on his head with the gun. 

I was lost in anger, my body was burning, the sight of my mom dying was coming to my mind and immediately I rushed towards him, hitting him with both my legs and the gun. 

He realized who I was and began begging. I asked him to kneel, and I stood in front of him. 

I began to ask him so many questions, I was crying, I was in pain. 

Why did you hurt me so bad, why did you scatter my life, why did you tear my soul apart. 

I asked him so many questions at once. 

He kept pleading while bleeding, he said his girlfriend and child are upstairs I should not kill him in front of them. 

That word worsens the case, because I watched my mom died, I watched the woman who gave me life died, I watched the woman who gave her body to some hoodlums to save her child died because he scammed us. 

I would have treated her with my savings, I would have done so many things with the money he took from me. 

Now he is scared for his family, 

He fears dying in front of them, but I must live with my own trauma. 

I shot his leg and immediately I heard a lady’s voice screaming, I looked up and saw her running to the room from the staircase… 

I kept on shooting, I was just shooting at all his property and back to his body before I heard siren and an officer said, “surrender your weapon the house is surrounded.” 

I dropped my weapon with my hands raised high above my head and the lady moved the gun far from me with her leg as she went to meet struggling Sunday on the floor before they wheeled him out for medication. 

Seeing her tears broke me but watching Sunday trying to survive gives me that inner satisfaction I longed for. 

The policemen gain entrance into the apartment and bundle me out of the apartment. 

I asked for a Favour before leaving the apartment. I told them to give me a chance to call my wife, they brought out my phone and I dialed my wife’s number immediately one of the policemen took the phone and told her to come over to their office that I have been arrested for attempted murder case. 

I could not imagine how she felt. My wife was already at the station before we even arrived and immediately, I saw her with her nightwear, scattered hair and wrong slippers. It became clear I did not think right, I was selfish. 

I did not think of the people that love me; I did not think about the reward for my action. 

I did not think it through, seeing her crying made me realize how stupid I was. 

She asked us to come here for relaxation and I destroyed everything. I was not even bothered about myself, seeing my wife in that state broke me more. 

This is adding more pain to my pain. I explained everything to my wife, and she slapped me so hard. 

I deserve it, I was a fool! She left and I was locked up. It was the worst experience of my life. 

Been restricted after living an open life is not a good idea/feeling. 

My wife did not visit me until after 4days. 

She came with a lawyer, but my pretty wife was looking so thin and pale. 

Seeing her always reminds me I was selfish and a fool. I explained everything to the lawyer, and he said “pray he survives that is the only hope we have” 

That moment fear gripped me, if he doesn’t survive what will happen to me. 

So, this is how my life will end? My face dropped; I wish I could change hands of time. 

It was a tough time for my family and I but every day I pray to God to please have mercy. 


After six weeks, which equated to about a month and a half, I received the best news yet: I would be heading to court alongside Sunday. Despite his survival, he was left paralyzed from the waist down.

The court proceedings were arduous, to say the least. However, at the culmination of our final hearing, the judge handed down a sentence of five years’ imprisonment with hard labor.

While I didn’t wallow in self-pity, the prospect of spending five years away from my family weighed heavily on my heart. The thought brought tears streaming down my face as I bid a tearful goodbye, embracing and kissing my wife before entering prison.

Two years have passed since that fateful day, and I fervently pray for the opportunity to resume my life outside these walls. Despite Sunday’s apology, which I have accepted, I find solace in the fact that he is facing the consequences of his actions.

Though my wife visits me twice a year, her letters and occasional phone calls serve as lifelines, offering glimpses of the life I so dearly miss. Yet, the whereabouts of my sister remain unknown, adding another layer of anguish to my burden.

I long for the presence of my late father, my dear mother, my beloved sister, as well as my wife and children. However, I recognize that I must atone for my deeds.

My experiences serve as a cautionary tale against allowing pain to corrupt one’s spirit. Instead, every trial should serve to fortify and guide us toward a better path in life, for in the end, we are held accountable for our actions.

For those who are married, I implore you to foster open communication and transparency with your spouse, ensuring that your children are safeguarded in the event of your absence.

This is my story, and I pray that you glean wisdom from it.

The END 

6 thoughts on “Deep Scar”
  1. From fire to frying pan🙆‍♂️🙆‍♂️
    Life itself is a big teacher, either you learn in an easy way or in a hard way🙇🙇‍♀️
    Another person who supposed collect wotowoto is the uncle.
    But in all let’s learn to forgive👍👍👍
    Nice one dear👏👏👏

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