The Hunt.

It had been five years of tumultuous pain, humiliation and quiet malice.

At first I thought it was just jealousy towards me which I brushed off as a basic emotion considering the circumstances, being marriage and the finality of a change of attention but i began to feel heat radiating from your mother.

It was like whenever she saw me she got so upset she got hot and within the first year of her moving into our matrimonial home I began avoiding my mother in law.

By the second year, she would wait for you to leave the house before she knocked on our door, let herself in and began to talk about the importance of children in the life of a newly married couple, trying her hardest to be civil all the while wanting to suffocate my face with the pillow supporting my back. I could see it in her eyes and in the clench and flex of her hands.

You could have said i was overthinking things but I knew how disappointed she was in me, six months of marriage and no pregnancy then two years and three…

By the third year she became a prayer warrior, praying into the dead of the night, seeking for the miracles of god to plant the seed of life into my bed.

I knew she wanted me to hear.

By the fourth year, we became enemies.

I had overheard her telling you to follow her on her visit to the village for three weeks. She had told you of the young girl, Abike, tall and light skinned with hips so wide and sturdy and breast small and petite, she had compared me to her and had told my husband that she was giving him the permission to sleep with her and get a child in secret, in order to maintain his pristine image in public.

But the reason I had slapped Mama that night was because you, my husband had not said anything and my heart was a choking lump in my throat.

I needed you to feel the rage I had been feeling for the past five years of marriage, I needed you to not only feel but also see what disrespect looked like. The way your eyes widened when you saw my palms smack her across the face, hard, should have been the way to widen when I personally came to tell you all the mean things your mother would say to me after you left for work.

You should have rushed to my side the night of my miscarriage the way you rushed to mama while she cowered in fear inside you, hands on her hot face.

The image began to dissipate until i felt the cold, bony fingers of the doctor on the back of my neck, he was pulling me out of his cauldron of memories.

“Ehen, it is enough. That is the memory i wanted you to see”.

The doctor began to walk away and i followed him, entering into a room directly across the other one we were just in.

As he entered he switched on the light, a dim glow, to show an equally small room, with a dark wine plush rug and four cowries in a vertical line on it. The walls were bare, a light grey.

I waited for the doctor to sit first and proceeded to sit in front of him, the cowries in our middle.

Silence.

“She has decided to show you a lesson, she has taken your womb and buried it somewhere in Akure, no doubt heavily protected.

He picked just one cowrie, hiding it in his right fist. He stared at the cowries before us, sighed and looked up at me. Eyes expressionless, like immune.

“I recommend you do not go. No womb is that precious”.

I shivered just a bit.

“what do you mean?”

“The memory i showed you was the moment your husband’s mother had decided to ruin your life. That same night she travelled to Akure with your womb in a plastic bag, hidden to destroy your life but not shredded to pieces by her fellow witches in her coven”.

I had nothing to say.

“I will give you today and tomorrow to think about what you want to do”.

He stood up from the rug, clearing his throat. Standing to his full height he breathed deeply and looked at me pointedly.

“When you come up with a decision do not hesitate to let me know”.

He left the room and i followed a moment after.

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