Chapter One

It all began in the year 2000. The memories are so vivid, they haunt me like shadows in the dark.I was only ten years old when my life was turned upside down. Leaving my home, leaving my mother's house, felt like losing a piece of myself.I loved my mother with all my heart. I wanted nothing more than for her to love me back. But she couldn't, or wouldn't, because "I wasn't her child," as she often said, or at least not the child she wanted.To her, I was just a mistake—an inconvenient reminder of the man who had left her pregnant and vanished.She hated my father.Growing up without a father, I yearned to know who he was, what he was like. The only thing I knew was that he was a bad man. I heard stories about how he abandoned my mother while she was pregnant, leaving her to fend for herself.I didn't want to believe he was entirely at fault. In my heart, I clung to the hope that he left because of my mother.The truth is, my mother wasn't easy to live with. Maybe my father saw an opportunity to escape her and took it. I understand now, though it wasn't fair to me, his unborn child.But after all these years, I find myself trying to justify his actions—or maybe I'm just trying to soothe my own heart. Who could blame me for that?I dreamed of the day when I'd hear a knock on the door, open it, and find my father standing there. I imagined recognizing him instantly, as if he were a reflection of me in the mirror. I imagined him embracing me and telling me he loved me. Those dreams were my sanctuary, a fleeting comfort in a world filled with pain.My desire to know my father was so strong, but I dared not ask my mother about him. Every time I did, her anger was like a storm ready to explode.Her anger was always directed at me. When she was furious, she would wait until I was asleep and then beat me.I'll never forget one evening, a cold afternoon on July 4, 1998. My sister Cindy and I returned home from school to find almost no food for lunch. Our mother, Suzanna Sisonke, who was physically disabled from an accident years ago, handed me a ten-rand note with a weary sigh."Go buy a loaf of bread and three eggs at Uncle Thabo's tuck shop," she said quietly.I took the money and went, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger in my stomach.At the tuck shop, I stood by the entrance, trying to stay out of the way of people coming out. A gentle tap on my shoulder startled me. I turned to see my classmate, Zandile Sithole, who was known as the "King of Street Fighters" because of his unmatched skills in arcade games."Hey, Sisonke!" he greeted with a sly smile."Hey, Zandy. What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound casual."I'm waiting for my big brother Wandi. He's inside. I'm heading to the game shop. Why don't you come with me? I've got two rand—enough for the whole day! Ask your mom for some money. Maybe today you'll take the title from me and become the new 'King of Street Fighters,'" he said, laughing.The temptation was overwhelming, but I knew my mother would never give me money for arcade games. She was against wasting money on such frivolities."I don't think that's a good idea," I said quickly, hoping to end the conversation."Oh, really? And why is that?" he asked sarcastically."Well, I just don't think it's a good idea," I stammered."Wait, I know. It's because she doesn't have money, right?" he taunted."No! No!" I insisted, my voice shaking."Oh, come on! I saw how the kids laughed at you today when Mrs. Ramsy Khokhela asked about your school fees," he said, laughing cruelly.I never liked Zandile, and neither did most of my classmates. He was an instigator who took pleasure in making others miserable. His words cut deep, even though I knew he was right. I couldn't admit it, not even to myself."No! That's not true. My mother has money, but I just don't want to ask her," I said, desperation creeping into my voice."Okay, boss, if you say so," he replied, his sarcasm stinging.I wanted to prove him wrong. With a heavy heart, I decided to take fifty cents from the change I had. Surely my mother wouldn't notice, and fifty cents was enough for two games.When I got home, I handed over the items and the three rand in change. My mother's disappointment was palpable."Is this all?" she asked, staring at the money in her hand."Yes, Mommy, that's all I got," I said, trying to keep my voice steady."Let me check your pockets," she demanded, her tone cold.My heart pounded. I knew I was in trouble. I tried to back away, but she grabbed me by the back of my trousers and pulled me toward her."Why are you crying? Did you take any money?" she asked, her voice harsh."No, Mommy, I didn't. Please let me go," I begged."Let me check your pockets," she said, her hands moving swiftly through my clothes. After a moment, she pulled out the fifty-cent coin."Where did you get this?" she asked, her voice filled with accusation."I—I got it from a friend at school. He gave it to me to play games," I stammered."So you stole my money to play games? What did I say about taking money for these games?" she demanded.I knew there was no escape."Mommy, please forgive me! It won't happen again!" I cried, wiping my tears."Why do you keep taking money when you know we don't have any?" she said, her anger palpable."Let me go, Mommy, please!" I cried out.To my surprise, she released me. I didn't understand why, but I was relieved.Later that night, as I slept fitfully, she came into my room. Without warning, she pulled the blankets off me and began to strangle me.It was the most terrifying experience of my life. I felt as though I was suffocating, my breath stolen by her fury. Her face was a mask of rage as she looked down at me. My heart raced, and my vision dimmed.Desperately, I managed to roll over, causing her grip to loosen. With my back facing the ceiling, her hands were now trapped behind my neck. I could breathe again.Realizing I had a chance, I screamed as loudly as I could. My sister Cindy, still asleep in her bed, woke up and saw what was happening. She leaped from her bed and grabbed our mother's arm, pleading with her to stop.When my mother saw Cindy, her grip weakened. I seized the moment, pushing myself free. I ran out of the room, out of the house, my heart pounding in my chest.The cold night air was brutal. I was shivering in my blue shorts, my body aching with the cold. I had to find somewhere to hide. I spotted a lone tree across the street and ran to it, seeking refuge from the biting wind.I huddled under the tree, wrapping my arms around my legs, trying to keep warm. The cold was relentless, but gradually, I began to feel some warmth.After what felt like an eternity, I saw a figure standing where I had been moments earlier. I strained to see through the wind and darkness, and then I heard a voice calling my name. It was Cindy.My heart surged with a mix of relief and fear. I rushed to her, noticing the tears on her face."Please come home. Mommy is worried and sent me to find you," she said softly.I hesitated, but seeing her so distressed broke my heart. I agreed to go with her, knowing she needed me.We walked back home, and as we entered the house, my heart was heavy. I quickly went to my room, wrapped myself in a blanket, and sat on my bed, on edge, fearing my mother's wrath.Exhausted, I must have fallen asleep. The next morning, everything felt eerily normal."Today is a new day," I thought, watching Cindy prepare for school. I had to push through, pretend everything was fine, and be a normal kid for the day