I was sixteen when we became lovers. He was twenty-four at the time. He convinced me that he loved me. I was quite impressionable at that age so I believed him. Everything he wanted us to do, I gave in to him. After a short while of hiding in the dark and doing things meant for grown-ups, I found myself pregnant.  

My family was angry when they found out an older guy was responsible for my pregnancy. They asked him to marry me. It wasn’t a problem for us considering how crazy we were about each other. Our families met. Arrangements were made. By the time the baby arrived, we were married. 

One would assume that because we married young, we would encounter a lot of challenges. It wasn’t the case. We bonded over so many things. One of them was gossip. Everything he knew, he told me. Every news I heard, I shared with him. We both enjoyed talking about other people and laughing about hilarious situations. 

We were that couple who walked down the streets hand in hand chatting and giggling while cars honked at us andangry drivers yelled at each other. We lived in a bubble that was unaffected by the world. You would feel sick watching us but you’d also wish to be us. 

Everything in our marriage was rosy for the first four years. It was while we were in our fourth year that we started encountering financial problems. My family came through for us every time I turned to them for help. Unfortunately, their help felt like drops of water on a raging housefire. The once-in-a-while handouts didn’t do a lot to fix our situation.

To help make things easier, I had to move in with my mum while he also moved to another town in search of work. He didn’t get a job but I did, so I started supporting him. I often sent him money to cushion him. I also visited him on weekends to spend time with him and keep the fires of our marriage burning.

It was difficult to try and do everything and still be physically present for him but I tried. Unfortunately, my husband didn’t see my efforts. “Ever since you got this job you don’t give me enough attention,” he would complain. Meanwhile, I left home early enough to arrive at work at six in the morning. Sometimes I worked double shifts so I closed late in the night. I had to go the extra mile because my family depended on my income for survival. 

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My husband knew why I had to work this much but he didn’t seem to care. All he wanted was my undivided attention. When I couldn’t give it to him, he came to my mama’s place drunk and started a fight with me. By the time he was done, my face was covered in bruises. From that day, our marriage has been one violent incident after the other.

The one thing that bonded us the most started to deplete, conversations. He no longer wanted to be questioned about anything. If I tried to talk to him he would ignore me until he was in the mood to talk. However, if he wants to talk he forces conversations on me. When I try not to indulge him it turns into violence. “My ego is higher than yours so know your place,” he would say. This has taken the fun out of talking for me. 

 The most painful part about all this for me is that he starts fights in front of our child. I have tried to get our families involved in the matter but all they tell me is, “Marriage is not a bed of roses. Stay and endure like a strong woman.” I don’t know what else to do. I usually forgive him because when he is not being abusive, he is sweet caring, and funny. This past seven years of our marriage haven’t been all bad. I used to consider that and my love for him but I have gotten to a point where I can’t take it anymore. 

All the times I broke up with him he told me, “You can’t leave me. Unless you decide to move away. Even that one, I will find you wherever you go.” I get scared when he says this so I end up staying. I stay but I am not happy. I have so much anger in my heart against him. I am talking about the kind of anger that makes me want to plunge a knife into him and end his life. I am scared that this is the point I have reached. What do I do before it becomes too late? 

— Gracie

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