If only I had left him.

If only I had let myself walk away. But I had wanted to make it work. I thought I should give it my best shot. I didn’t want to fail, not in this.

I thought my patience, my devotion… my commitment would change him.

Mama had said it was my duty to make it work and I believed her.

Papa had told me that his was now my home and then I’d realised I had lost my place in my father’s house.

There was no choice but to hold on, to stay, to try and make it work. So I believed.

I’d wanted Junior and his sister to come from a home that is not broken. I’d wanted them have a father and a mother.

Now, they will have neither. He is gone and I am here, locked up.

Oh, if only I’d left him.

I should have known better, but I did not. I should have left when he hit me the first time. Or at least, after the third time when I realised that this was becoming a habit. I should not have stayed after I lost count of the many times he hit me. I should have left him, left his home, escaped his abuse.

But I stayed and now, my hands are tainted with blood and I am locked.

Why did I stay?

*-*

The story of the twenty-four year old woman who killed her husband in self-defense is a very heartbreaking one. Sometimes, we want to make the marriage or relationship work, so we are termed failures. If she had foreseen such an end, (stabbing her husband to death, getting arrested and being charged for murder), we can be certain she would have made the choice to run… while there was still time.

It’s not easy to run. It’s not easy to give up. But it is easy, and the right thing, when you thing of the possible consequences of persisting in an abusive relationship or marriage.

Let’s not leave it until it’s too late for us too.

Cheers.