I was surprised when my madam’s husband came back in the evening with new clothes that he bought for me.
It was quite unusual and very unexpected.
Madam’s face grew long and villified from anger and disenchantment.
She couldn’t hide her bitterness.
She hissed, sighed, banged the door, frowned her face and all-what-not just to register her annoyance but the husband ignored her.
Extremely villified, she lost her temper.
“Stupid man!” she bawled. “You’re not ashamed of yourself? No, tell me, are you not ashamed of yourself? Common housemaid? That’s what’s turning your head. Because of this small girl of a b-----d you no longer know your wife!” Madam sparked.
“Don’t insult me,” the husband warned calmly but sternly. “I said don’t insult me,” he repeated.
“And if I insult you what will happen?” madam countered. “No, tell me,” she continued. “If I insult you what will happen? IMPOTENT MAN!”
The last insult was too much for the husband to bear.
He lounged ferociously at his wife and landed a thunderous slap on her left cheek.
The sound of the slap jolted me and left me staring at the couple with fear, confusion and awe.
Even though I was partly happy that madam was at last tasting a piece of her own cake, I was scared of the uncertainty and the possibility of the transferred aggression that could turn towards me.
“Heeweeoooooo,” my madam cried out in pain and fought back, scratching her husband all over with her long sharp nails.
Irritated by his wife’s effrontery and aggression, the husband continued his assault with aggressive ferocity.
His slaps turned into blows and his wife into a punching bag and me into a spectator.
“Oga biko ozugo,” I pleaded in ibo on my madam’s behalf. “Oga abeg e don do,” I continued.
The husband ignored me and the fight continued.
“You will kill me today,” my madam cried. “You must kill me today,” she continued. “Whether you like it or not, you must kill me today!”
The husband continued the beating as the wife held tenaciously to his trouser.
The children were sleeping in the master bedroom so they didn’t hear what was going on.
At long last, Oga and wife became tired and the fight came to an end…
For days madam’s face remained swollen and she and her husband didn’t speak to each other.
Oga stopped eating madam’s food.
The gap developing between them further strengthened my affair with the husband.
Night after night he sneaked into my room and enjoyed my honey pie.
There were days he came back earlier than usual when madam wasn’t around and we did it freely all over the house.
I knew I was playing a very dangerous game but then I was only doing all I could to survive…