My Blood

Right in front of me stood the house that held all the childhood memories I learned to embrace; the good and bad until a door opened and I made a quick escape. My husband consoled my mind, but my feet detained me. All I could say is, ‘Why don’t we stay in the car for a little longer’.

After two hours, another family event was over. If my blood could speak, it would spill hatred and anger. Over the years I adapted to the behavior of all the family members except one – my undying narcissist sister. She was a gun ready to fire even when I never spoke.

My mother did an excellent job comparing both of us. I was the black sheep that received luck from Mother Earth and that’s what itched my sister’s brain off. I had a man who cared for me, a home that could shelter more than two families, a job that catered for my self-development and success was my second form of oxygen. She couldn’t stand it. And with such humans in your life, anything was possible. Anything!

Being away from home, to me, was escaping the hands of malignant fate. That’s how I found it and it became my valid excuse to my husband and in-laws. I allowed the pity I received if that’s the only way they would agree with me. I took my marriage as a form of adoption to another family and I genuinely carried the name of a family that wanted me and appreciated me.

However! A moment that brought me joy would be clouded by a simple visit from my dearest family to check on my pregnancy process empty-handed. I was 3 days to the due date. The nursery was prepared but you couldn’t blame a girl for hoping for a gift.

Three dreading days came to pass. My sister would only stare and stay silent. Jealousy sizzled from her face and her eyes sparkled with rage. My own husband couldn’t leave me alone with her. Her regular disappearance was a relief but today I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. I was in labor and in fear. It takes blood to know there is something wrong.

I was in a room with my doctor and nurse, my husband standing right behind the door. In labor for 10 hours, I pushed the joy of my garden. The fruits were harvested and I held my twins with relief. My promotion to motherhood didn’t last long before windows shattered, fire rushed out and there was the sting of smoke.

I thought I was gripping my newborns until I realized I wasn’t in my bed. I was standing behind the window of my delivery room dressed in my sister’s dress. And my hands were petite like hers with the complexion lighter than my own.

Through the window, I saw my own body on the hospital bed mutilated and my babies dead on the floor with my blood dripping over them, drowning their remaining existence.

‘Hello Sister!’ a voice spoke. I didn’t perceive why I heard my sister’s voice because I was interrupted by my mother screaming at me in between chokes, ‘Tina, run for your damn life!’

But I’m not Tina.


Happy Reading 💚


End of Watch

Image Credits to  Cassi Josh


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