Mum and Dad stands on the sideline waving proudly at him as he sits in the cockpit of the aircraft. He looks handsome in his all-white pilot uniform.  This is his first time flying and the joy on his parents faces that their only child is finally living his dream made his eyes water a bit.
Mum shields her eyes from the sun, she had refused to wear her sunglasses because she “wants to see her son directly, no barriers”. David smiled remembering his mum saying that to his dad and himself a few days back. They both are proud of their only son.

Wait! Did I just say that?

Scratch it.

I keep forgetting I’m no longer an only child as Mum decided to get pregnant when I was 20 and I’m only just remembering the toddler in the stroller in front of her. My baby brother came along 18 months ago and even though I fell in love with the boy from the very second I set my eyes on him, I still can’t help feel the stab of betrayal every once in a while when I remembers I am no longer an only child.

I shut the door of the cockpit and was about to launch my first flight ever when…

“Answer me then, if you don’t have anything to hide, why do you always hesitate to give me a response Tade?” A woman’s voice said
“I can’t do this again this morning”  Replied a male’s voice.

Three year old David grunts from his sleep. He picks up his pillow from the floor. It must have fallen while he was sleeping. He placed the pillow over his head, turns to his side, pressing the pillow harder against his ears wishing the voices coming from the living room to come to an end.

His thoughts drift to those moments when Mum would come wake him up every morning, carrying him like a baby to the sitting room where Dad would be waiting for them both with the family’s big Bible and a devotional written by their Pastor on the table. He remembered those moments Mum and Dad would let him lead the praise-worship. He would sing songs from his Sunday School and his parents would laugh at him whenever he mumbles up the lyrics of any song. Dad would scratch his head tenderly with a smile but they would still let him lead the songs. Dad would read from the devotional and the big bible. After which the three of them would take turns praying.

Long gone were those nights Mum and Dad would sit by his bed side. Mum would read him a bedtime story and Dad would act it out, making funny sounds for the characters; tickling him as Mum reads. Those sessions usually end with Mum kissing him on the forehead, Dad fist-bumping him, tucking him in and they all saying their “I love you’s”, before his bedroom light goes off, his door closing and the sound of his parents footsteps sounding softly as they walk to their room. Most times Mum giggles like the girls in his Kindergarten class before their sound eventually fades out.

But now, all that wakes him up is his parents voices fighting about one thing or another. He still can’t understand how two people wake up everyday having something to argue or fight about. It seems all they dream about is what the next morning’s argument would be.

David was such a happy child, so soft and cuddly. He never liked to admit to being just Three years old as he would always answer anyone who ask for his age with, “I’ll be four in a couple of months.” Mum always told him it’s okay to be a Three year old but David just couldn’t wait to be as big as his Dad.

Dad and Mum always held his hands whenever they went out and sometimes they would both swing him. He enjoyed it more whenever Dad carries him on his shoulder as they walk through the fleet of shelves in the mall  because Mum didn’t want him picking things from the racks. Even though that meant he only got whatever chocolate cookies Mum picked for him, he enjoyed Dad carrying him that way around the mall .

“Good wives don’t nag their husbands everyday Cynthia” his dad’s voice jolts his back to reality.
“Aaaarrgh…” David sat up angrily.
“Well, I stopped being the good wife because you, my dear husband became a bad husband!”  he heard his mum bark back.
“The only explanation I can think of is you seeing another woman, because men only change drastically like this when they lose their job or they are broke but you Tade, have a good job and God knows we are far from being broke. So tell me what other option i should consider?”
David could hear Dad’s hiss and it sounds like he’s moving around, probably looking for his car keys. He does that whenever he and Mum has a fight. He would pick his car keys and leave the house only to return late at night when David would have fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him. He sees less of his Dad these days.

David got down from the bed and dragged his feet lazily towards the sitting room. He got to the doorpost just in time to see Mum moving to obstruct Dad from opening the front door.
“You are going nowhere until you give me an answer”
Dad tries to pull her aside but she wouldn’t bulge.
“Who is she Tade?!” Mum demanded angrily
“Cynthia please get out of my way” Dad said calmly.
“Mr Man, you are going nowhere. Besides where are you going to by 5:30 am if not to your mystery woman’s place, ehn Tade” 
“Cynthia please get out of my way before I do something we’ll both regret” Dad replied, his voice an octave higher.
“Oh! Now you want to beat me? You want to take your irresponsibility a step higher, right Tade? Mum said pushing herself against him. Dad pushed her aside lightly and as he made to open the door, Mum pushed herself back at him causing him to lose his balance, he stretched his hand out to the wall to keep him fall falling down. Before David could fully comprehend what was happening, Dad landed a slap across Mum’s face.

Mum put her hands to her face, shocked.
David gasped in horror.
They both turned towards him, surprised to see him standing there.

David saw the look in his Dad’s eyes as his gaze moved from him to his mum, then his dad stepped out of the house and he knew instantly… this is it; the beginning that is accompanied by a journey that never ends admirably.

Hello Reader,

Thanks for reading. Please let me know your thoughts about this story are in the comment section. I’ve always wanted to write a short piece about domestic violence from a child’s perspective.

Yours truly,

Commander-in-Chief of hugs, kisses and smiles.


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