There were three long and narrow scars on my face. No, I wasn’t born with them neither were they as a result of a surgery. Or maybe they were. Maybe father was a doctor, I his only patient and his scalpel, a piece of broken China ware.

Mother never listened. She cried everytime father accused her of being barren. I wondered why. Females are not children afterall

My 12th birthday presents were short carefully crafted sentences detailing how detestable I was, how I would never amount to anything and why I deserve to be miserable. I understood I was never meant to be born. Of course, I already knew, it had been hammered into my ears since I could remember. It was just special because I was holding on to mother’s cold battered body.

I loved going underwater with an empty stomach; it made me calm. I am sure father knew I would love it and that was why he dunked my head in the overflowing bath tub often.

I think he also wanted to teach me how to fly but unfortunately, I was not intelligent enough to grasp how. I should have learnt how to do it properly considering how many times he had thrown me downstairs.

Last night, he came home with smiles and passed out on the couch. I wanted to keep the smile on his face so bad. Maybe he would forgive my being a girl if I learnt how to fly, so I did it. Flew out of the window of my room to the road below.


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