i run.
it is safer this way. there's no one to stop me this time, to scold me about the irresponsibility of my action. no Deji to tell me to put on weight in order to fit into the one hundred and fifty eight thousand naira lace wedding gown he ordered off Jumia or mama to continuously rebuke my lifestyle with her usual, "ndu gi ajööka. o jööka nnó."
i keep on running.
away from Deji, mama, the guests, the church, my wedding and the big shiny diamond ring i had taken off and thrown over the low church fence.
my marriage to Deji i knew would be a death sentence even before it began.
someone was screaming for me to stop but ignoring them, i ran on...
...till i turned back and saw myself lying in a pool of my own blood, spilled over the tarred road and the bumper of a black Toyota Camry. Deji, holding my bloody head,sobbing so loudly the hairs on the back of my neck stood. The driver of the vehicle running to Deji's side, both hands on his head explaining, " Jesus Christ! i no see am on time o. she jus from nowhere run enter road..."
like i suspected, my marriage to Deji was a death sentence before it began.
