He stretched out his hands towards Ken who hastily grabbed it with enthusiasm and joy.

"Thank you, Doctor!" He replied as the doctor came closer to check on me.

"If you don't mind, I'll like to watch her for the night. She'll be discharged tomorrow..."

"Doctor, please I want to take her home. I can't wait to start taking care of my wife and baby."

"But she's not yet strong enough..."

"Please, I insist!" Ken retorted calmly but firmly.

I just lay on the bed with tears flowing down my eyes.

Is this really my life being discussed without my consent? How can I be pregnant when I'm not married? How do I face my parents?

Kate, you are finished! I thought to myself.

I was battling with a million thoughts all through the journey home.

Ken promised to come see my folks by the end of the month and just like in Nollywood movies we got married and were living as man and wife two months after that incident.

I noticed a lot of difference in the way he treated me during and after our wedding preparations.

Once again, I felt loved and I realized that I caused his reaction on my last birthday by ignoring him and giving more attention to my callers.

That was very wrong of me and I had apologized to him several times, every time he mentions it I'll apologize because that's not how to treat a man.

I had my baby girl few months later through a Caesarian Section (C.S) and everything was rosy except for our sex life.

Ken complained about almost everything, my low sex drive, fallen breasts, big stomach, stretch marks, in his words I'd become very unattractive and too plain.

He started staying out late, sometimes he'd return the following morning and I dare not question his new habit else I'll get the beating of my life.

I suspected he was cheating on me but I had no proof.

God, this was not what I bargained for.

For every time I questioned his action I got beating, for every beating I got, I received an expensive gift and shower of love.

My life was a typical example of the phrase,"suffering and smiling".

I was struggling with keeping my home, taking care of my 11 months old daughter, being a supportive stay at home mum/wife, since I had to quit my job some months earlier, and retaining my sanity.

I didn't even have time for myself then I realized I was pregnant for a second child.

God please No. Not now. Who did I offend? What did I do wrong?

I couldn't even tell anyone what I was going through because I knew they would never believe me after all Ken was the perfect gentleman.

I really wanted to tell Chizzy my best friend but I was ashamed.

She had begged me not to marry Ken because of pregnancy but I told her he was my choice and I was happy with him.

She was the only one who noticed that the black eye on my face the day after my birthday was from a slap.

I had tactically avoided her since after my wedding.

As for my folks, the last time I ran to them they insisted I return home after Ken came with his people to plead for forgiveness and gave them a check of four hundred thousand.

According to them, a woman's place is in her husband's house.

I just couldn't bring myself to telling anyone for fear of being judged.

No! I'd rather die in silence.

I was in the second trimester of my pregnancy when Ken returned home one morning around 2am and insisted that I prepare pounded yam with the egusi soup available.

I have been in a bad mood since I returned from antenatal because the doctor complained about my blood pressure.

Hearing that request from him was the last thing I need at that time so I ignored him and laid on the bed.

"Kate are you still lying down? Where is my food?" He roared at me like a Lion about to devour an antelope.

I was too tired to even respond.

"Ken, your soup is in the microwave and the garri I made for you earlier, is in the food flask. If you won't eat it then I can't help you,"

I replied wearily and calmly before adjusting my pillow to lay my head.

It never made it to the pillow.

He pulled my legs from the bed and started dragging me towards the kitchen, as my whole body landed on the bare floor I knew this was it.

"Ken, please I beg you in God's name, I don't have strength this night,"

I kept shouting as every part of my body was brushed against the floor and every object on the way to kitchen.

I felt excruciating pain in every part of my flesh, muscle and joint as I was being dragged.

When we finally got to the kitchen I knew I had to defend myself.

Immediately, I tried to grab a knife and he quickly barricaded the utensils rack.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He shouted. I knew he was drunk, I could tell from his breath.

I got the beating of my life, slaps and punches were recklessly landing on my body.

I stumbled and fell while trying to shield myself and most importantly my stomach as I kept screaming for help.

The neighbors were fast asleep so nobody could hear me not to talk of coming to my rescue.

I sprang up and ran towards the kitchen door but he dashed to it before me, jammed and locked it.

"If you don't pound that yam for me, I will make sure I pound you to death!"

I fought, God knows I fought hard but he was much stronger than me.

One last blow to my stomach threw me to the floor that was when I realized I'd been bleeding all his while.

Then the dizziness came again like a rushing wind and took over me.

I heard my daughter's voice faintly as her tiny hands banged on the kitchen door.

I wish I could fight a little more for her.

I wish I could stay for her....

But then....


Continue to read Part 3 Here

Photo credit:

© Onyinye Udeh