Like tattoos, scars are mementos; permanent reminders of past events. Mine carries dark memories; memories of Chiadi. His pretty brown eyes once mesmerized me. His tongue was sweet yet vicious. His hands caressed and wounded me. Whenever I tried to leave, he fell to his knees; head buried in my laps. Aware of the power his tears hold, he sobs, and every single time, I gave in. I stepped back into my beautiful prison.
Mama said leaving my marriage would be going against the will of God, but breaking those shackles of love was my first step to self-love.


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