I will die in thirty minutes! My fate has been determined by the powers that be. I have been sentenced to death in the most horrible manner! I am to be tortured and yanked limbs apart while still alive! My voiceless cries would not stop the executioner whose expertise in the art of murder of the most cruel nature has earned him respect and recognition among the female folks who constitute the bulk of his customers. I thought mothers are usually moved by the tears of their children but mine has lost every sense of motherhood, as she connived with my father to sign my death warrant! I could hardly believe my eyes as she led me amidst my voiceless protest and streams of tears to the altar to be sacrificed! Innocent me! Guiltless me! Helpless me! Why should I be sacrificed for the inordinate sexual urges of my parents? Why should I be the one to pay the price for their negligence? Why should my life be the ransom? Why…?
Amidst the tears, I fought for survival. The ones I trusted the most have turned their backs on me. I am left alone to suffer such horrific death in the hands of the merciless executioner whose glove clothed hands could not shroud the stains of blood and lives he had taken over the years. I grew weaker every passing moment as I watched my mother surrender her life on the execution altar. She lay facing the sky, with legs wide open and a face laced with fear. Tears trickled down my eyes, for I realized that her fear was more for her survival than for my innocent life, which would soon be snuffed!
Helplessly, I watched as the executioner plunged his instrument into mother’s uterus; intended to hold the walls of the uterus apart, so he could watch with pleasure as I am tortured to death. Mother groaned as he defiled the sanctity of her vagina. Satisfied with his feat, the executioner launched his death instrument, which he flaunted for a while, sending cold shivers running through my fragile spine. This time, I saw a glow in his masked eyes. It seemed my pains ignite his pleasure!
I battled hopelessly as the torture instrument approached. The bulging walls of the uterus quivers upon detecting the presence of an alien object. I struggled in vain to move away from the approaching doom but death’s mournful knell trailed all my actions. At this instance, just like every child in the face of a helpless situation, I listened to my instinct to turn to my mother for support but she turned deaf ears to my plaintive cries. My heavy heart sags under the pressure of rejection as it became apparent that no one wants me alive. Brimming with this realization, I gave in to the executioner’s lustful lures as I could not hide from his treacherous instrument which seems prepared to tear my frail limbs apart.
I have no past and the future seemed oblivious. I might have relished in the memories of a past that once was mine but emptiness stared at me in the face, except for loneliness and rejection, which had been the hallmark of my few weeks’ existence. As the executioner’s instrument tore into my flesh, I slipped into a state of coma as I recalled my father’s voice venting his anger on my mother, at the news of my existence. My traumatized mother fell on her knees pleading for my father’s understanding. He hesitated a while and curdled her in his arms as she asked,
“What are we going to do? My parents will skin me alive if they ever get to find out that I am pregnant! Please, help me!”
She sobbed uncontrollably as my father patted her on the back saying,
“We would have to get rid of it! That is the only way out and we have to do it as soon as possible”
Father’s face wore no sign of remorse. He exudes such confidence, as would one who is used to the ritual. I waited in futile for mother’s defence against such an inhuman act but she made no comment. Rather, she fastened her grip around father’s neck in approval. Thus, the decision to terminate my life was reached by my parents and I had to die for their sins!
I felt a sharp pain piercing through my heart and with one last voice I cried, “please, let me live!” My pleas fell on deaf ears as the murderous instrument found its way into my heart. In that instant, it cleaved my heart in twain! The little flame of life that remained in my wretched soul was snuffed out permanently amidst the watchful eyes of my mother who sighed in contentment. No doubt, my death was her pride!
As my innocent soul ascended into heaven, with tear-filled eyes and a broken heart, I took one last look on earth and I was shocked to see that behind the unmasked executioner was my father!
Here is a poem I wrote for the UNBORN CHILD! It could have been you! Stop the death sentence on the unborn child!