The Writer's Voice
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Secrets
By
Geci Wanyoike
Its surprising how the quietest din can cause such a loud sound, almost bouncing off the walls and echoing into one's ears. As I sat there in the still of the dark night, counting the minutes, I wondered what my mother was doing. The Grand Clock sounded. It's droning a dagger piercing into the night's stillness.
Maybe today things would be different. Maybe tonight he will just walk past my room. Not notice my door creak under the weight of the night's darkness. Maybe today he will ignore me.
Throughout dinner I tried my best to be a fly on the wall. Never daring to make my presence known, I sat there in silence watching the conversation pass over me. In all aspects a shadow behind conversation. Just the hope of today he will not notice me, and I will be invisible, so he cannot find me. Nevertheless, he eventually dragged me out of the silence. Asking me about school like everything is alright. As if nothing happened. The voices in my head are screaming "I hate you, you monster." I try to silence them, fearing my mother will hear me. Fearing she will realize what I have done. She did not have a clue. Maybe it was a good idea that she did not, for I am sure she would blame me if she did know. Look at me with pity. I do not need anyone's pity.
He always said that no-one would believe me. Him, a respectable member of the community, business owner, god-fearing parishioner; it was obvious that he was right. Realistically, who would believe me?
Cringed under my cotton sheets, I could hear the slightest noise in my lifeless room. I could hear the blinds sway, the music, the wind, the crickets bleating into the night singing pure songs. When I was younger I always wondered what they were saying, as they called into the blackness. But at least they were free. That's what I really wanted to be - free. Free from my life. Still I was trapped in my skin. I could never escape and in essence that was what scared me the most. The fact that this was it.
The sound of the doorknob turning blared like a siren in my ears. The sinister sound sending chills up and down my spine. As if standing at attention, my body tensed up and my blood seemed to stop circulating. I lay still under the covers, hoping he would leave. Pretending to sleep. Then the sound of the door closing sent waves of ease through my body. I begun to relax in the dreary gloom of my room.
A few minutes had not passed before I realized there was a presence in my room. I could hear the harsh and raspy breathing, but I dared not look from under my covers. The voices begun to shout again, overpowering my thoughts, "GO AWAY!!!!!" they said. Over and over again. I felt for certain he could hear them. That he would just slink off like the reptile I knew him to be. But alas, he did not.
As he drew nearer he cast a shadow that cloaked my bed in an evil darkness. He got to the side of my bed and as he descended to the foot of the bed. I could feel the depression from his weight as he sat. I felt a chill as the duvet was pulled aside. I closed my eyes tighter wishing this to be a nightmare. A dream that I could wake up from. But I knew different. As he mounted me, continuously repeating the words that I had once found so dear, "I love you, honey." I could feel the irony of the words hit me in the face. How could someone who supposedly loves me so much, do this to me?? However they always say the ones who love you are the only ones who can really hurt you. I squeezed my eyes shut. Retreating into my mind. I dared to flinch. I just lay there, feeling self loathing and despising this man who I had once trusted.
This time as he penetrated me it felt different, like it was dying on the inside. Slowly his evil consumed me. My soul could no longer handle this. It crumbled under his weight. I lay there lifeless, waiting, for when he would just leave. His grunts and moans made me wince in disgust. He mindlessly kept thrusting in and out of me, not even noticing my discomfort or even my lack of participation. He merrily went about his business. I knew he was done, when he slumped on top of me, breathless. Satisfied.
He pulled himself from on top of me and started to dress. Sliding his shirt over his upper torso with a grin on his face, he then pulled his striped pyjama trousers over his naked bottom, repeating, "You know I love you, don't you?" I mumbled and turned away from his view. I had promised myself that he would never see me cry. "So let's not tell mum about this. It will be our little secret." Secrets, I was haunted by so many of OUR secrets that I could feel my spirit buckle under them.
They ate through my heart.
Recoiling, into a ball, I felt dirty. But he thought nothing of it and tip-toed out of my room. The once safe and secure area of my room had been contaminated with his vile essence. I could still smell HIM in the air, nausea came over me. The door squeaked.
So I guess this time it was not going be different, he would go along doing as he pleased and I would carry the burden of our SECRETS.
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