Mama said "vengeance belongs to the Lord, the creator of all humans". If I were human, I would have agreed with Mama, but on that very night, I became a monster.

"I trust the God I serve, he will never go scot free". Then the God she served should have wiped off my memory, or at the very least, made sure he never crossed my path. Instead, he brought him my way. Not only him, but also his wife and three adorable kids. As if that wasn't enough, he became a pastor. Tell me, how can God punish a man who now serves him diligently? So, I'll do it for Him just this one time. The rest, I'll leave to Him.

How do you forgive a man that raped your sister till she bled to death? A man who killed your soul, destroyed your life, and made you barren due to his many beatings? You forgive him and move on?

----------

Eight years had passed since it happened, and seven years since Mama's death. I had shut out the world. My neighbour, whom I barely spoke to, often slipped church pamphlets under my door. I never read them, I never came to her church either, but she didn't stop.

That day, for the first time, I read one before tossing it in the bin. It spoke of peace. It didn't exactly move me, but it was Mama's death anniversary, and I remembered her last words, "Leave him, live your life and find peace." Perhaps I'd find peace in the house of God. Maybe I'd feel human again. So, I went to church that Sunday.

It was my first time in eight years, and permit me to say; God has a sense of humour. As I sat down, I saw Marcus on the podium, holding a microphone. The universe is cruel, isn't it? It has its way of mocking you.

I stood still on my seat, as hurtful memories surfaced in my head, and I tried to shut down all the events that had happened, that had led me here but yet it came like as if it happened just yesterday, and I remembered when it all started.

It was Saturday, exactly 10am, I was walking down the aisle in my dream gown, the one he had picked for me, for my wedding, for our wedding. I could see his handsome face from afar, though the veil blurred it slightly. Mama smiled, her lips curved with pride. I had made her proud. I had not become like her without a husband as the rumours say.

Everything happened so fast; the songs, hymns, my sister wiping tears from her eyes in excitement, I tried to shake off the memory of her crying for it felt like an irony, an irony of things to come.

I tried to move to another memory, I landed on another one that happened before Chima's death. I was cooking, my eyes swollen, my hair scattered, I stirred the stew with the little strength I had left. Then he came in, he started an argument. I remained silent. I wasn't ready for it, the pain of the previous beating was still there, so I kept quiet and ignored him, but my silence enraged him more and he turned me to himself and slapped me. I hadn't expected it, I thought staying silent would keep him calm. Tears welled up in my eyes, "I'm sorry", I gasped, though I didn't even know what I'd done wrong.

Another memory; Chima had moved in with us. She got admitted into a programme near our place. I had pleaded with Mama to let her rent a place, I even offered to pay for it, but she did not understand. My husband didn't want to hear any of it after I had told him, "do you want me to tell my mum that you said she cannot come?", I had asked him. Of course, that led to another beating, "you want to paint me black? He yelled while beating me.

Two days later, Chima had shown up at our place with the biggest smile after I had told Mama all the possible reasons she shouldn't come. I remembered her running to meet her brother in law to hug him. He was so happy to see her that I thought he had changed his mind. I smiled as I closed the door. And I closed Chima's chapter in my heart, for it haunted me the most.

The rest of the memories were blurry. Blood, more blood, my sister, his eccentric laughter, a sharp kick, the hospital, Mama's death.

And now, here he was, preaching forgiveness. Preaching how Christ forgave and loved us while we were yet sinners.

Maybe I would have forgiven him if he hadn't looked so happy, if his three kids had'nt run to meet him screaming "Daddy!". If he had recognised me when I met him after the service. If he hadn't introduced me to his wife as a first timer. If only I saw a tiny bit of recognition in the eyes of the man who had been my husband for 10 years.

"To err is human, to forgive is divine." Exactly. Only God can forgive him, not me.

On the day I killed Marcus, I entered his office, and he smiled. "Welcome, did you book an appointment? This was supposed to be my rest hour". "I lied that I was your sister and was told to come in". I replied with a dry smile. He straightened up.

"Marcus Lawrence", I said as I pulled a chair to sit. "I see you are doing the Lord's work." "What do you want, Dera?" he asked. He remembers my name. He remembers me. The hurt swelled in my chest.

"I want you," I said sardonically. He smiled and said as he stood up, "as you can see, I'm not the same man I used to be." "And what happens to the life you led?" I asked, uninterested in his self righteous speech. "That is my past," he said. Oh? And the people you hurt with your past? Who gave you the right to be happy?" My voice rose. But I remembered people were around. So I caught myself and lowered it."Who gave you the right to be happy?"

He came nearer. His face was sorry. For a bit, I was scared I wouldn't be able to carry out while I came here. He looked like one who would fall to his knees and beg, but instead, he said, looking me straight in there eyes, "Dera, old things have passed away, behold all things have become new". He held my shoulder. "You too can come to this new life and let go of your past and bitterness." Bewildered, I shook his hand off me, stood up, and then I laughed bitterly, he stared at me in confusion.

"What do you want? Money? I have money." He offered. That was it, I could not take it anymore. I pulled out the gun. He moved backward, towards the door, frightened and surprised. "Dera, don't kill me and bring this sin upon your head," he pleaded. "Marcus, this new life you talk about, does it not say to die is to live?" He fell silent.

I screamed hard in anger, "you dare call me by name and preach to me? You raped my sister, and it led to her death. Mama died soon after, I lost my womb, I lost five pregnancies, the trauma of the beatings still remains. I have nightmares every night. You ran away after it all to start a new life. Then you preach to me after ignoring who I was that day. A new life? I don't want! I am long dead."

Please, let's talk this through, sweat beading on his face. It pleased me. I knew people were coming because of the noise, I could hear rushing footsteps, Marcus's heavy breathing and his pleadings, but my chest hardened. I hated him. Before the door was opened…

Two gunshots rang out. One for Marcus, one for me.

As I drowned into unconsciousness. I could hear a voice saying, "Thankfully, the bullet didn't hit me. I don't know her. If she survives, she must be arrested!" I remember Mama's words. "Vengeance belongs to the Lord."

Tell Mama I didn't wait for God, I did it on my own, but maybe it was in vain.

I closed my eyes shut, forever lost in oblivion.