Arghh

A loud moan sounded from a room with little supply of light and for a moment I almost thought it wasn't I who was producing that painful mourn.

a whip came slashing my back that I could feel my skin crack with pain. I was on my knees with my hands tightly clutching my kneecaps as I bared with the whips that landed on my back one after another. It had been more than ten years since I last faced such a painful beating, so my back was trembling as if I had been exposed to a wild winter.

When my dad was mad then his anger couldn't be easily pacified and no one could convince him otherwise. My mother stood still at a hidden corner as she looked at me with mixed emotions but all I could read from those eyes were the words 'you brought this upon yourself and I can do nothing about it'

I normally saw how other mothers doted on their kids and I began questioning if I'm really my mother's son or I was just picked up from somewhere for the sake of impacting me with their religious extremism

small streams of blood flowed down from my cracked skin down my back to the floor and I began seeing stars dazzling all over the place. My head began buzzing with dizziness since one of the whips mistakenly slashed me across the back of my neck. My dad stopped and I could hear the efforts he'd put in punishing me since he was panting as beads of sweats filled his forehead.

He asked "Do you know why I'm punishing you?"

I also forgot to say that my dad normally administered punishment first then an explanation followed. Henceforth whether guilty or innocent he listens to your pleas after he's administered the punishment.

I knew why he was punishing me. I missed the night prayers however I never thought I deserved to whipped like a dog just because I missed a single 5 minutes of a prayer session. I would've prayed in my room after I returned home but how did it turn to being whipped like a cow?

For the first time I was enraged.

I am a twenty six years old grown up adult who is clear of what is wrong or right and I've done my best to please my parents in all ways but how did it turn this way?

My dad questioned me about my mistake and for the first time I muted. I just decided to rebel

He angrily pinched my chin lifting it up so that I could face his annoyed face. I've always feared this face and even at that particular moment despite my rebelling heart, I still trembled shrinking my neck causing it to ache.

He roared at my face "I asked you a damn question. Do you know your mistake?"

I found myself mumbling "I missed the night prayers"

He threw me off and I fell on the floor.

I could feel his glare from up there "What does 2 Chronicles 7:14 say?"

I replied "if.... my people.....who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land"

He then said "Since you know that you've sinned then humble yourself in this room and seek forgiveness from God. You're only to move after I've said so"

I didn't know where I got the courage but I found myself asking my father "I just missed prayer for one single session, was it a must for you to punish me this way?"

From the corner of my eye I almost saw my mother lose her soul from shock.

My dad stopped on his tracks looking back at me and angrily asked through his gritted teeth "What did you just say?"

I went on rumbling with who knows whose courage "I was just stopped to give directions to a neighbor and happened to miss a single prayer session of which I've never missed whenever I'm at home"

A slap landed on my cheek sending completely on the floor "You sin against God and you dare justify yourself?" I could feel my dad's wrath

I rubbed the blood at the corner of my lips and said "If I've sinned then you've also sinned since doesn't that same Bible say that we should love our neighbors as we love ourselves. I was just doing a good deed so how did I sin?"

I added "What is right or wrong I don't think its for us to judge. Isn't it?"

My dad was speechless from shock as he glared at me  "How dare you?" then strode out of the room.

For a moment I sighed but the peace of mind didn't last for long before my dad returned with a knife in his hands and stood in front of me. I was scared that my heart almost flew out of the body thinking that he had decided to just kill me but in the next moment he raised the knife and slashed his arm a few times and I was twice shocked than the thought of me being killed.

He said "I'm a sinner and I deserve to be punished"

It was now I understood when my mum once told me that my dad believed that his wounds and injuries were a punishment that God had given him as a habitual sinner and him wounding himself like that was his way of punishing and reminding himself not to sin against God.

Blood flushed out like water from those wounds pouring on the floor and on top of my hand. My hands began trembling as I reached to block the wounds for him so that he wouldn't over-bleed. He pushed me away saying that he indeed deserved to be punished for his sins.

I began crying and asked for forgiveness as I pleaded with him to stop the bleeding or else he was going to collapse.

"Please don't do this. I didn't mean it that way" I seriously cried "Please stop the blood first"

He turned a deaf ear saying "Sinners deserve punishment"

"Aaah" I cried "I'm the only sinner here. Dad please. I promise to reflect on my mistakes hmm...."

This man was my dad and despite his shortcomings he was still my dad and I couldn't let myself be the source of his death. I once saw how my family were thrown in misery because of his condition.

He was always in and out of the theatre with his life hanging on the thread line of death. Every time the Doctors walked out of his room they would warn us to prepare for the worst but he could pull through and his condition would turn worse the next day and the Doctors would repeat the same warning. This went on for a few months and apparently led to the recurrence of grandma's heart condition leading to her death. She took care of her son for over six months in the hospital but passed away two days before my dad came out of his coma. It was like she'd given him her life.

Also apart from my dad being a religious extremist he is the reason people stopped bullying me in school. Whenever I came home crying or injured from being bullied he always hugged me to sleep and would take me to school so as to deal with the bullies. I don't know what he did to them but they ended up stopping bullying me.

I turned to plead with my wailing mother and she finally reacted by dragging my dad to the treatment room so as to stop the bleeding. It was at this moment I realized that I could not do anything. I was forever going to be held in the claws of my dad.

I tightly clenched my hands into a fist when that thought hit my mind. I thought that I was going to leave this place in three days and till then I will bare with this brutality. I collapsed on the floor with an aching back and began crying

For the first time I thought life was so unfair to me.

I was filial but received whips as a gift

I was loyal but never got to have a sincere confidant

For the first time I wished the world would be merciful and send someone to rescue me from this den 

(phone ringing)

My phone began buzzing but I didn't have the time to pick it up. My whole body was aching and I just didn't have the strength of picking it up. I was caught up in my own mental worries and tortures.

However my pocket went on buzzing for several times and I decided to see who was calling. I stretched my hand with a lot of pain and effort fishing the phone from my pockets. I then saw a new number calling. I didn't give it much thoughts as I picked it up and with a hoarse voice said "Hello"

The other person gently replied "It's Medard. I took your number earlier and wanted to check on you"

I sat up and tears started streaming down my eyes

Was the world really granting my wishes?

Is that it?

"Hello, Hello. John are you there?" the voice went on asking but I was busy weeping as I bit on my fist so that I wouldn't make a sound.