A Living Hell

The first time Danny disappeared, I thought the worst had happened to him. Everyone was scared. All manner of thoughts ran through our heads. Was he kidnapped? Was he involved in an accident? Is he dead or alive? We were shaken to our bones. We visited hospitals in our neighbourhood and reported the case to police. There was no sign of him.

At first, it seemed like his disappearance could be linked to one of those arguments between us which usually led to a short period of absence. That was why I wasn’t too bothered initially, but panic kicked in when I couldn’t reach him on any of his lines. At least, he usually kept his mobile lines open, no matter the conflict. I was not aware of this behavioural pattern. But that fateful Wednesday, he wrote another script.

We had a little argument that morning before I left for work. I called later to apologise and he sounded cool on the phone. I never knew that I would return to an empty house. I tried reaching him that night but to no avail. In annoyance, I sent a nasty text to him, still no reply. But by Friday, I could hardly process the reality that my husband of three years was missing.

Everyone bombarded me with questions that I couldn’t answer. I was confused and scared. I didn’t understand what was happening. Or what could have happened. And I couldn’t shed a tear. Our two year-old daughter, Isabel kept calling for her daddy in that infantile manner. All I could do was hold her close. She was my only comfort.

The whole family was thrown into panic. Worst scenarios and possibilities were drawn up without a plausible conclusion. I thought of my life; how I would be declared a widow if my husband wasn’t found. I looked like a scarecrow. My supple face was swallowed by deep lines of worry and depression. My tempting hips were mere shadows of a lean frame. It was the worst nightmare of my life.

On the fourth day of his disappearance, my father-in-law called me excitedly. My husband had been found, he announced. No, let me rephrase that. Someone saw him, and spoke to him. That initial feeling of excitement died the moment he told me that piece of news.

That the man I have spent sleepless nights for, praying tirelessly for his safety was alive all these while? It was too hard to comprehend. A myriad of emotions ran through my body, yet I gathered the courage to ask for more details. Danny is alive. He said he would return soon. That was all.

The following day he came home, under the false pretence that he was mobbed and the robbers took the rent I gave to him that morning.

I had totally forgotten about the rent in my period of ‘mourning’. It was the cause of our argument that morning. Since our marriage, Danny and I had been through constant financial conflicts. I was the frugal spender and breadwinner of the house while Danny on the other hand was extravagant; and dubious.

I saw these red flags during our courtship but I turned a blind eye. I was over 30, the first child and needed to settle down. The pressure was becoming unbearable then. I thought I could scale through; that I would mould him to be the man that I wanted him to be.

Danny met all my requirements of a dream man except his character. He was handsome and charming. With him, there was no dull moment. He knew how to pull people to him without flexing a muscle. I fell in love with this part of him and refused to pay attention to his character.

His manipulative ways and lies got me settling his debts, even the ones he accumulated before we got married. Danny was also quick with his tongue. He rained abuses on me at the slightest opportunity and any provocation translated into a season of incommunicado. I endured all for the sake of my marriage.

It was easy for everyone to believe his cock and bull stories but not my family and I. In fact, they wanted me to be separated from him. But I couldn’t; out of fear. I didn’t want to be mocked by society. So I ignored the voice of reason and moved back with him.

The series of events that followed was hellish. I ended up coughing out another rent. He lost his job; the second in a row. I also took up the responsibility of taking care of my family alone. It was a hopeless situation I believed I could redeem. But things only got worse.

One day, we had a heated argument and he beat the daylight out of me. That was the first time he would hit me. Then he took my daughter away for two weeks to punish me more. I was helpless and confused throughout that period, but somehow I survived it.

He returned home full of apologies but I didn’t listen this time. I stopped helping him financially. That infuriated him more. He continued to molest me but I refused to give in to his threats. He disappeared again, for another two weeks. I made no attempt to tell anyone. I wished him dead.

He came back later with a woman whom he claimed was pregnant with his child. I refused to allow him in but he forced his way. The woman, sensing trouble, quickly packed her things and fled.

All these while, Danny never made any attempt to get a job. He depended on my every kobo which I laboured for day and night. The only work he managed to do was to abuse me sexually. I took in for him but without hesitation, aborted the baby. I never told him that piece of news.

I lived most of my life in fear. Friends and family advised me to leave but I never found the courage to leave until his last disappearance. This time, he was disappointed when he returned. There was no wretched and distressed wife waiting for his pocketful of lies and deceit, but a locked and empty apartment.

It was the best revenge I could muster at that moment. Maybe providence had planned that he would leave the moment my rent was due. Instead of wasting another dime in that hell, I simply packed my things and fled to my parents’ home. I dropped his little belongings with the landlord.

It was an unexpected blow to him. He made several attempts to reach me but later gave up when all proved abortive. The last I heard of him was that he was somewhere in Enugu, living off another victim. The only gift that came out of that union is my daughter who I love so much. I’m doing all I can to ensure that Danny’s DNA is completely erased from her. I’m still single but happy.

I decided to share this story to encourage women both single and married in toxic relationships like mine. To the single sisters, your dream man should not be about looks but also character. Stop turning a blind eye to the red flags with the hope that you can change him. You can’t change any man if he is not willing to change. Wake up from your fantasy and face reality.

To the wives living with one Danny or the other, please take a walk when you can. Stop thinking about what people will say. Think of your own happiness because people will still talk whether your marriage is rosy or not.

I have not given up on marriage. I will marry someday because it is a beautiful thing if you end up with the right one.

•Adaeze, Abuja

The above story marks the beginning of a new series in this column. Every last Sunday of the month will be dedicated to inspiring tales of love. If you have any to share, simply send an email to vaysylver@gmail.com

TO THE SINGLE SISTERS, YOUR DREAM MAN SHOULD NOT BE ABOUT LOOKS BUT ALSO CHARACTER. STOP TURNING A BLIND EYE TO THE RED FLAGS WITH THE HOPE THAT YOU CAN CHANGE HIM. YOU CAN’T CHANGE ANY MAN IF HE IS NOT WILLING TO CHANGE. WAKE UP FROM YOUR FANTASY AND FACE REALITY