• Flash Fiction

    She Died

    My name is Nkiru. I was just seven when Papa started beating Mama. Every night, he would watch those violent movies over and over again like he was learning new styles to practice on her. After he was done, he’d head to Mama’s room and I would hear her scream. She’d scream so bad begging for help that merely returned to her as echoes. With my tiny hands, I’d bang the door. I’d plead to Papa to open but he wouldn’t answer until he was done. He’d look at me with his hands adjusting his trousers and say “silly girl, one day, I might hit you with one of these…