They say
you’re pronounced dead once your heart stops beating, yet this wasn’t the case
for Logan. At school he would write his depressing poems with anonymous
signature. Little did he know walls have ears. Everyone knew it was his. Most
of them made fun of him while others called him names and ‘attention seeker.’
The filled
pages that were once empty felt the pain of his bleeding ink. Whatever the
response he got from his schoolmates, made him stop writing yet the book and
the pen felt his loneliness like a buried empty coffin.
A teacher
once approached him, asking him to get a therapy session in the school which he
did without hesitation. He tried to open up but got choked in his own words.
This seemed too much for him. He gave himself a halt in attending the sessions.
He was just
a ten year old junior high student who knew nothing, about life. His life was
always a one way traffic-home to school to home. Everyday, he walked down the
street wishing someone would see him and hear his tormented soul screaming out
for help or maybe get a hug and hear a whisper, “It’s just a nightmare boy, you
are going to be alright.”
Sadly, the
reality of his lonesome life was like a nightmare dressed in a day dream,
walking home to a guardian father who was ever drunk and would sometimes
wrestle Logan for nothing. Logan would then run for his innocent life into his
room and lock himself from his father’s rage and fury.
One day,
Logan fell asleep in his cubicle room and forgot to lock his door. When his
drunk father arrived back late at the wee hours of the night, he realized
Logan’s door wasn’t locked. “This is the perfect timing” he thought to himself
as he entered the room full of smiles. In the dark, he grabbed him by his neck,
frightened Logan screamed on top of his voice but no one was there for him. He
made him draw seven pose and molested
little Logan.
That reality became a recurring nightmare. Who could he call, if
the only place to feel safe turned out to be his slaughter house and his
guardian angel into a beast disguised as human? How was he going to speak of
this? What of his dignity as a boy? What would people think of him? If it were you, what could you do?
BY BRIAN MRIRA
ORIGINAL STORY BY
EMMANUEL KOMORA
@merlthepoet
