The Genesis

In the dim hours of 4:00 a.m., I awoke to find my hands bound, as if I were a common criminal. Panic surged through me, and I screamed at the top of my voice, pleading with my mother to untie me. But her fear was palpable, rooted in the presence of a man who called himself my father: Charles Dan.

Charles Dan, with his fair complexion and enormous eyes, was a man of cruelty. His wrath fell upon his partner, Lucy, and their only child, Zita. Once, they had four daughters, but Charles Dan's malevolence extinguished the lives of three of them, administering poison that worked insidiously.

Lucy, Charles Dan's bride, stood in stark contrast. A gorgeous woman, fair and chubby, she possessed lips like ripened cherries, a pointed nose, and a statuesque height. Lucy dutifully handed over her teaching salary to her husband, who seemed to devour it greedily. She also managed a canteen, bustling with activity during her post-morning-shift hours.

Yet, Lucy remained blissfully unaware of the horrors unfolding within their home. She knew Charles Dan was unkind to their children, but the true extent of his malevolence eluded her.

"Mummy," my voice trembled, "why is Daddy so wicked?"

"My daughter," Lucy sighed, "he wasn't always this way. Before I married him, he was a sweet soul. But our union was fraught with disapproval. My parents objected vehemently, yet love blinded me. I threatened to run away with him if they didn't relent. My mother eventually agreed, but my father refused, and he died of shock the day I married your fa—"

I interrupted, my eyes widened, "Can shock kill, Mummy?"

Lucy's gaze softened. "Not directly, my dear. But your grandfather suffered from high blood pressure. When he learned of our marriage, the shock triggered a fatal episode."

Charles Dan entered the room, his presence casting a shadow over the tense atmosphere. His deep voice cut through the room like a blade.

"What are you both discussing?" he demanded, his bass voice echoing.

Zita and Lucy quivered with fear. Lucy attempted to cover up, but her terror of Charles Dan made her stammer as she pleaded for their daughter's release.

"Please," she said, her voice shaky. "Untie Zita. She's our only surviving child. I beg you." Lucy knelt down, tears streaming down her face.

Charles Dan scoffed. "Would you get up? I know women well enough. Stop that pretentious act. It won't work on me."

"But she's in serious pain," Lucy persisted.

"Her hands and legs hurt. You tied her up at 2:00 a.m., and now it's 6:00 a.m. Please, release her before I go to work. If I leave with her like this, my mind won't find peace. Please, my darling."

His anger flared. "Do you think all these words affect me? I've never been one for empty talk."

Lucy stood, wiping her tears. She addressed her husband by name, a daring move. "Charles Dan, if you don't release our daughter this minute, I'll pack my bags and leave this marriage. You'll never see me again. That's the end."

Charles Dan seethed. "How dare you call me by my name and threaten our marriage?"

"Oh, you think I'm joking?" Lucy's resolve hardened. "You claim you dislike words—what about action?" She walked toward the room, ready to pack her things.

Charles Dan's mind raced. He knew Lucy's departure would mean losing access to her money. Love had long since evaporated; now it was about survival.

As if on cue, he softened his tone. "Baby, I'm sorry. I had a bad day.

Charles Dan's sudden change in demeanor caught both Zita and Lucy off guard. He swiftly untied Zita, feigning kindness. His bass voice softened as he addressed his daughter.

"Hope your hands don't hurt anymore?" he asked, pretending to care.

Lucy emerged from the room, embracing Zita. Tears welled up in her eyes. "My daughter, do you feel better now?"

"Yes, Mom," I replied, my voice trembling.

"Baby, I'm sorry for what happened today," Charles Dan continued, his tone remorseful. But his thoughts betrayed his words. He harbored no love for them; they were mere pawns in his game of survival. Their money was all that mattered.

Zita, go to your room," she instructed.

"Take a shower and have breakfast—I've already prepared it. And remember, tomorrow is your 16th birthday. We must celebrate."

My eyes widened. "Oh, I almost forgot! Tomorrow is my birthday. I'm really stressed right now. Yes, we'll go birthday shopping, and I'll invite all my friends. They've always wanted to visit our house."

"I need to leave for work," Lucy said, "But I'll be back on time. And then we would go shopping ."

l hugged my mother. "Okay, Mom, thank you for standing up for me today. I truly appreciate it. And I want you to know—I love you."

"Bye, my lovely daughter," Lucy whispered.

As l waved goodbye, I noticed how much l resembled my mother: fair, tall, with rosy lips, black hair, and an oval face. The fragile threads of family ties held us together, even amidst secrets and danger.

After my morning routine—bathing and breakfast—i retreated to my room, locking the door securely. The fear of my father's unpredictable behavior haunted me. Why did he treat me this way? What have I and my late sisters done to deserve such cruelty?

My mind wandered to my lost siblings. If they were alive, they would have celebrated my 16th birthday together. But fate had dealt a harsh hand, leaving me alone in this oppressive household. l couldn't help but harbor resentment toward her mother, Lucy, for staying in this toxic marriage. Yet, deep down, l understood that life wasn't always black and white.

As evening settled in, a knock on my door jolted me awake. Fear clenched my heart. Who could it be? I asked repeatedly, but no response came. Finally, my mother's voice cut through the tension.

"It's me, baby girl. Why so many questions?"

Relief washed over Zita. She opened the door, grateful it wasn't her father. But her mind churned with doubts. How could she see Charles Dan as anything other than a monster? He had inflicted pain on all her siblings until they passed away. Was something fundamentally wrong with him? Were they even his biological children?

Lucy's voice interrupted her thoughts. "He's your father, my dear."

"Mummy is there a reason daddy does not like us? Pls tell me,I need to know so that I can apologize to him. whenever I see my friends with their father, and the kind of love their father shower them I always wish that I was the one."

"No my child,"

"get up, dress up—we have a lot of shopping to do."

I hesitated, torn between fear and hope. Could I ever escape this house and find a different fate?

"Okay, Mommy, just give me a minute so that I can join you."

In no time, I was dressed and ready. I joined my mom in the parlor, and together, we headed to a store where beautiful clothes awaited us.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the bustling streets. I followed my mother to the clothing store. The bell above the entrance chimed as we stepped inside, and the air smelled of fabric and possibility.

Rows of dresses hung like colorful dreams. Lucy's eyes sparkled as she touched the delicate fabrics. "Zita," she said, "tomorrow is your 16th birthday. We'll make it special."

I nodded, my mind racing. I wondered if birthdays were meant to be joyous occasions. my sisters—gone too soon—should have been here, laughing and choosing dresses alongside I and my mother. But Charles Dan's cruelty had stolen that from us.

As we sifted through racks, my gaze fell on a midnight-blue gown. Its sequins shimmered like distant stars. "Mom," I whispered, "can I try this one?"

Lucy smiled, her love for her daughter evident. "Of course, my dear."

In the fitting room, I slipped into the gown. It hugged my curves, and I twirled, imagining myself at a grand ball. For a moment, the pain faded—the memory of my sisters, the fear of my father. I felt like Cinderella, waiting for her fairy godmother.

When I emerged, Lucy gasped. "Zita, you're breathtaking."

Zita's reflection held a girl on the cusp of womanhood. Her dark hair framed her face, and her eyes—so much like her mother's—held both vulnerability and determination. She vowed to survive, to break free from this house of secrets.

As they left the store, bags in hand, Lucy squeezed Zita's shoulder. "You're stronger than you know," she whispered. "We'll find a way out."

I nodded, my resolve firm. I 'd celebrate my birthday, not just for myself, but for my lost sisters. And when the clock struck midnight, I will make a wish—one that would change my fate forever.

And so, amidst silk and satin, Zita's journey began—a quest for freedom, justice, and the light that could pierce even the darkest secrets.