My father has always beaten me for as long as I can remember. I think it started when I was 7 years old. I vividly remember what I did that day, I was instructed to always wait for him in the reception after school lets out so he wouldn't have to look for me, but that fateful day I and my friend Bisi happened to make a new friend, Modupe, we were curious about her, she had come to school for the past few weeks with a pretty pink school bag, a matching lunch pack and of course her shoes were the latest make.

She told us she had a spot she goes to after school and offered to show it to us, being curious girls, we followed her after school, I figured we'd go quickly and I'd be back before my dad got to school to pick me up. But we got carried away by her hangout spot, she had designed it to fit her space, equipped it with some of her toys from home, I and Bisi hadn't seen those new Barbie dolls, so we were left in awe and got carried away playing with them, by the time I remembered where I was supposed to be, I panicked and immediately bid them goodbye and rushed back to school.

When I got back I saw people gathered in front of the school, on getting closer I noticed my father screaming at the school staff, I got scared and went up to him, he spotted me and instantly rushed towards me, he directed his screams at me, asking where I had been, I explained to him that I just went for a walk with my friends and the look on his face gave me the biggest fright I had ever gotten. He hugged me and took me by my hand and led me away from the school, but not without proceeding to curse the school and it's headmistress.

When we go to his car, I got in and he gave me a long look before getting into the driver's seat. We drove in silence and I remember feeling so restless and scared. Mom wasn't always home when I got back from school, she had a job, Dad had just lost his a few months ago, which resulted in him picking me up from school.

We got home and I noticed Mom's car wasn't in the driveway, somehow that scared me more. I suspected that if he was as angry at me as he got with mom, then I was in a lot of trouble. We entered the house and I went to my room to refresh and change, when I came out he called for me. My heart skipped a beat but I went to meet him.

He asked me if I had any homework, I shook my head and out of nowhere he bellowed "Speak up", I replied with a shaky "No", he then nodded his head and told me to get his belt. Mind you I had never been beaten before so I didn't suspect a thing, I unknowingly went to his room and got his black belt, I returned and handed it over to him. He took it from my hands and positioned it in his hands, I was still looking at him waiting to see if he wanted anything else, but I was astonished when I felt a painful smack on my arm, I jolted up and realized he had hit me with his belt, I began to cry, it was a painful whip.

He then began to accuse me of meeting men at my early age, calling me a prostitute and saying I was just like my mother, I didn't understand what he was saying ,but he didn't need me to understand, he just kept on hitting me with the belt. I wept throughout that afternoon, when he was done he warned me not to speak a word to my mother or else I would get more of the belt.

After that day, he enjoyed using the belt on me, leaving me with scars and marks and I can still see after 20 years. I'm reminded of this as I stare at his grave. I hide my happiness, no one would ever understand, well except my mother, but that's a story for next time.



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