Chapter 1 — Dodging the Whip

After eating a large number of eggs regularly, sometimes three times per day, Ella began experiencing boils, which popped up on various parts of her body. And one such place plagued by boils was her labia majora—her pussy jaw. Being just a child of around nine or ten, Ella shyly told her mother about this growing condition taking place on her private parts and the pain that came along with it. And everyone in the family, male and female alike, gathered in the living room of their house after dark. Ella's mother, Nella, told her to drop her underwear in front of everyone and show them where on her vagina the boil was growing and causing her pain. 

Feeling in her gut that such an action was very wrong, Ella refused to expose herself in front of all her brothers and sisters. Some of them were already young adults and started families of their own, and all were quite ready to take a look at her body part, which was considered sacred and sanctified for only privacy. Sitting there on the hard wooden floor with a sense of awe, Ella was further insulted when her own mother bellowed out in front of everyone in the room that her pussy was stinky and that was why she was unable to show it to everyone seated inside the room. And with this realization of her mother's undignified attitude towards her own child, Ella sank into a deep depression.

But since she was growing up and nearing her teenage years, she would further learn that her mother was being ruled by dreadful streaks of evil. Evil that would make her soul cringe, her eyes bulge, and her mind work without rest, as she pondered how she could possibly get out of this situation. But where else on earth could she go for protection or cover? She did not know any other family members or relatives. 

The weekend of that same week, Ella would learn another horrific circumstance of abuse. She stood in the kitchen, watching one of her elder sisters iron her clothing—a school uniform for Monday morning—and witnessed her angry mother grab the scorching-hot clothing iron and place it in the center of her sister's back—all because she wasn't making the pleats on the skirt of her school uniform properly.

"You bitch!" Nella shouted as she placed the stinging-hot cast iron in the center of her own daughter's back, as if she wanted to brand her vertebra and steam her spinal column with the blazing-hot iron.

Meanwhile, Hyacinth ran from the kitchen and out into the ward, screaming loudly for the pain to stop—a formidable amount of pain, which would not leave from the surface of her back for several days. A day or two later, the skin on Hyacinth's back raised and filled with water, indicating that a third-degree burn had taken place in that specific area of her body. And after the skin was broken and all the water had drained from it, the desensitized piece of skin fell off her back, showing the raw meat of Ella's sister's back, readying it for the growth of new skin and the complete healing process.

But such a healing process wouldn't come easily or without much pain and numerous nights of discomfort. And during this entire time, through her daughter's pain and agony—going to school with the drainage on her back, soiling her school uniform—her mother, Nella, showed no sign of care, sympathy, or remorse for what she had physically done to her own child.

The house was filled with several children from her lot of ten, almost all of them had their fair share of their mother's cruel actions or blunt force inflicted upon them, in one way or the other. And the fact that she showed no signs of compassion or regret after any of her dire and dreadful deeds breathed only fear into the hearts of her children.

Like a functional alcoholic, was Ms. Nella functionally mad?

Or was this her way of disciplining her children?

Physically brutalizing them and filling their hearts and minds with fear while she went about her daily business as though nothing had happened.

Even though her own children suffered alone in excruciating pain. Pain that could be seen on their faces, in their eyes, and on their countenance. And then there was the pain that couldn't be seen with the natural eye, quietly laying behind the walls of their emotionally charged chests.

Ella, being in the middle of her mother's two sets of children, felt her mother's harsh hands the most.

Mostly, because she was less outspoken than her other brothers and sisters, considered to be slow academically, or as they would often say, foolish. But what her other siblings considered to be foolish was Ella's way of analyzing what was really going on around her and what kind of family she was born into. Because she just couldn't understand the constant whopping being inflicted upon her, and at other times, her other siblings as well.

And for many things that could be easily explained and only needed some form of an explanation to a growing child, harsh floggings would be given out instead. And at times, as the flogging went on, so too came the explanation or the answer one had been seeking, whatever was beyond one's juvenile comprehension.

Dormant communication between children and parents and also the spontaneous actions of any of these children were a sure sign of an ass whopping—if what they said or did wasn't satisfying to either parent.

This caused Ella to be constantly watching her words and her bodily expressions, walking on pins and needles in the place where she was supposed to feel loved, liberated, and secure. But deliverance for Ella and her siblings was far from shore.

Being the first child of both her parents, and set in the middle of the previous children her parents had before creating the union that created her, Ella was given many household tasks. Tasks that she could hardly manage as a child and tasks that her elder sibling didn't care to help her with either. Which would bring about lashes on her back, or wherever else seemed available for the whip, when these tasks weren't done correctly or to the liking of both her parents.

Going to the river every Saturday morning to wash the yard clothes of her younger siblings, her father's clothing, and also that of her mother as well, was one of Ella's main duties. Loading on top of her head the large aluminum washing pan with all the dirty laundry packed to brim, Ella made her way to the river to carry out her laundry duties this particular Saturday morning. 

And after being in the boiling-hot sun for almost an entire day, and believing that she had done a fairly good job with washing the laundry for her siblings and parents, Ella happily returned home from the river with the washing pan of wet clothing on her head. She then neatly place them on the clothing line out in the back of the yard, hoping they would dry so she could gather them up, fold them, and then bring them to the inside of the house to be packed away. But nefarious Nella left from whatever she was doing and carefully began examining the pieces of clothing her daughter had washed and just placed on the clothing line.

Observing the shirt collars, sleeves, and armpits of the clothing for any signs of dirt, naughty Nella found one shirt with a streak of dirt on the collar of it. And she then decided to angrily rip off every piece of clothing from off the line and rub them up in the soil. She then told Ella to bring them back to the river and wash them once again while blurting out every profanity her tongue was able to express. 

Eyes filled with tears, Ella tried explaining to her mother that the shirt she claimed still had dirt on the collar of it was from the black rubber from the tires that her father was working with at the Goodyear factory.

But her mother didn't give a rat's ass enough to hear her reasons. Soon, she began throwing stones at Ella while threatening her with a fine spanking of the ass before the sun settled and she rested her head on the cot she called her bed.

Filled with tears and a bar of acid soap in hand, Ella returned to the river with all the clothing she had previously washed, scrubbed them as much as she possibly could, and brushed at them very hard with the coconut brush reserved for doing whatever her little hands could not manage to handle. Many of the other people using the river looked at her with pity and shook their heads as they watched her slave over the large washing pan of clothing. Especially since they knew that she was already there by the river scrubbing them with her bare hands.

The pain that Ella was now feeling wasn't stemming from her emotions or the fear of the harsh spanking promised to her by her mother. But the severity of her pain was coming from the numerous openings or wounds now on her hands, resulting from using the bar of acid soap for washing the clothing from her parent's household.

Not even concern with the status of her belly, poor Ella stayed by the riverside and waited for all the clothing she had brought there to dry. And when they were, she folded them, placed them into the washing pan—which she brought to her head—and carried them home just before the sun had settled for the night.

Thankfully, this time around the washed clothing had passed inspection, so the ass whopping was put on hold for another day and another situation. However, both her hands continued to hurt severely and would remain that way the rest of the week since she was the one responsible for washing the dishes as well. And Nella, with her streak of heinousness, wouldn't ask one of the other siblings to do the dishes for the rest of the week. She insisted that they were Ella's responsibilities, thus she would have to take care of them, pain or no pain.

Gaining wisdom from some unknown place in her head, she came up with the grand idea of wrapping her hands with old pieces of cloth. She then placed them into plastic bags and got on with her duty of washing the pile of dirty dishes, loading up in the pudding pan, waiting for some well-needed attention. But physical beatings were a way of living in the Nella Bradshaw's household, and Ella knew very well that if it didn't happen on that day, for whatever reason, it would certainly happen another day in the very near future.

And Monday morning, prior to Ella stepping out of her house before going to school, would prove this to be true. Because Ella boldly and outright told her mother that she was a terrible woman and how she wished she hadn't given birth to her after they had a verbal altercation about washing the dishes before heading off to school. And Nella, in her state of crafty and conniving scheming, waited until Ella went inside the bathroom situated in the back of the yard, took her clothing off, and began washing herself under the shower before she entered the bathroom with the broomstick and began spanking her with it across her back.

Her mother was beating on her body, as though she was hitting a stubborn mule who refused to remove itself, even out of the way of danger. And what had made each whacking so terribly painful was the fact that her skin was bear and already wet from the water she had poured onto it for bathing. Determined not to take any more of her mother's whacking in the confined space of the tacky bathroom, Ella gathered as much strength as she possibly could, pushed her mother out of the way, and bolted from out of the bathroom utterly naked for all to see.

 Unfortunately for Ella, there were some young men passing by her mother's house, witnessing this shameful event. And boyishly, they took advantage of the free show. Not even having the decency to turn their heads in the opposite direction of the lane and continue to go about their business. And even out of her mother's terrible reach, dressed, and making her way to school, those young men were lurking about the side of the street, where they continued to humiliate and mock Ella until her ride for school came along, causing even more of a burdensome weight to crush the heart and mind of the poor girl trapped in a household where physical abuse was the norm.

But once in her classroom with her friends and her teacher, some of those heavy burdens began lifting from Ella's shoulders as she interacted with her friends and the class lesson presented to her. Although, the brutal attack of her mother and the mocking of the four young men on her way to school continued to trouble her thoughts periodically.

She now began wondering, how long would these men continue to tease her? And would her mother carry out another attack on her like she had promised? 

And would her father vexingly partake in this second whaling of her skin after her mother divulged her story to him of her misbehavior? She knew it could be very deadly for her if he decided to get involved.

Because she was well aware that her father wasn't one to beat any of his children regularly like their mother did. But whenever he took off the bicycle brakes and began striking his children's backs or any parts of their bodies, it would definitely be a nonstop battering.

Crying out for mercy and begging for pardon during these physical beatings by her father only went on deaf ears. Because his focus was on beating his children until their sink started bleeding while he named out all the wrong they had done—presently, previously, or throughout the years.

Nonetheless, Ella left school earlier than usual that Monday afternoon so she could head back home in time and do as much housework as possible. Hoping that such would compensate for the murderation: severe beatings that were promised to her by her mother. She left her friends at the school to carry on with their usual get together of socialization and revising whatever was taught to them for that day in class.

Just after five o'clock, when Nella returned home from her job as a hospital worker, she came home to find the floors of her veranda and living room as shiny as a dial; anyone could part their hair into it. Not only were the floors glistening like stars, but dinner for the entire family was already cooked, served in their individual plates, and neatly covered on the dining table. The sight of what Nella had returned home to had melted her heart a bit. But Ella was still concerned that a spanking would still be in store for her. And like nothing had ever happened earlier that morning between mother and daughter, Nella ate her dinner, showered, and mentioned not a word about the spanking she had intended on displaying on Ella's rounded backside, bringing much relief to the mind and heart of Ella for the rest of that night and also for the entire week.

But was all really forgotten? And if so, for how long?

And for almost an entire month, Ella noticed that her mother hadn't brought up the topic of spanking her or made any mention of her so-called wrongdoings. But what was very clear to Ella was that her mother had packed more housework on her, allowing her no time to focus on her schoolwork.

Now she was given the additional task of going to the markets on Saturdays to buy whatever produce was needed around the house for the family meals. She was given the task of ironing her mother's work uniform and that of her younger siblings as well. And also to husk the coconuts from their shells for Sunday dinners and for making oil, which was a lot, in the hundreds. This often caused her hands to be severely bruised by the sharp edges of the metal grater.

Talk about swapping a black dog for a monkey!

Because now, Ella's schoolwork began to suffer, and her status of being first and second in her class began dwindling down into the double digits of twenty-seventh and even thirty-first. Her mother, seeing her school report that summer holiday, brought about the condemnation of stupidity on Ella. Ever since, her mother had begun calling her dumb and stupid every chance she was given to do so. An act of humiliation, which had caused Ella to lose her confidence in her schoolwork and in herself for a long while.

One thing was certain in Ella's life: There was no catching up on her school lessons. Because the housework kept pouring in and she began moving and changing from doing one thing to doing the next. And so the mockery and mortification continued, crushing her self-esteem almost to the ground.

Her tears didn't help!

Praying to God didn't help either!

And talking to her guidance counselor at school about the matter she was dealing with at home had only made the matter much worse. Because, now, both parents were constantly on her case, complaining and throwing words about her bringing the family business to the streets, to strangers, and to the ears of her teachers at school.

Desperation, fear, and persistent worrying took over the mind of Ella constantly and completely. The thought of running away from her home took up much precedence in her mind as she pondered on how to make her escape. But as Ella pondered what to do about her unfortunate circumstances, more poisonous troubles were heavily brewing just to complicate her existence it seems. Because now she was cutting logs in the backyard for the fire for dinner. And in doing so, a piece of chip flew from off the log and made a small scrape on Ella's right foot.

This tiny scrape had grown worse as the days, weeks, and months went by, and also the years as well. Because it was over the period of a year that she was encouraged to make her way to the public hospital before she completely lost the use of her right foot. Words of wisdom had startled Ella, making her heed the advice and take quick action at the frightening warning.

But prior to receiving the advice to hurry and see the doctor about her sore foot, Nella paid no attention to her daughter's worsening wound, which was slowly but certainly getting from bad to worse. And instead of doing what any caring mother would have done to their ailing child, in one of their disagreements over household chores, her mother had held her down and beat her on the sore foot until it started bleeding profusely. And days later, it began oozing pus, an act that had given Ella much more pain than she was feeling before. And without an ounce of concern, pity, or care, Nella totally ignored the health of her child for several months, allowing Ella to go school each day with a piece of cloth tied around her foot, harboring the festering sore. A piece of cloth that wasn't even sanitized so as to prevent the wound from getting worse from the bacteria that could be lurking within the fibers of the piece of material used to cover the sore. And even though it was tied securely, her wound would often bleed because she would oftentimes hit her foot on the desks inside the classrooms at her school. Or other students at the school would accidentally bump into her, hitting her against the festering wound ,which would bring much pain to her for hours. One thing was for certain, she would stay away from fights, knowing that her sore foot would be the first place on her body they would go for. 

However, Ella woke from her bed early that Monday morning after receiving the warning that she might lose her leg—a bed which she shared with four of her sisters—dressed in her school uniform, and walked over three miles to the town's hospital to get her rotten wound treated. And although she had woken up very early to reach the hospital, the health facility was already packed with hundreds of other patients waiting to be treated as well. Many began staring at her and whispering about the drainage of her foot, causing her to cringe with shame.

Moments later, Ella's number was called for the nurse to see her. And the sight of her musty wound had shocked everyone at the hospital who had laid eyes upon this stale laceration on the foot of a child.

The expression of pity on the nurse's face told Ella that she was in a very bad situation. And since her heartless mother had never once shown an ounce of sympathy to her, like this nurse was showing to her now, she instantly concluded to herself that her parents hated her, especially her mother. And weeks later, in one of the brawls initiated by her mother, she would find the courage to express such thoughts to her mother.

Shockingly, but not surprisingly, her mother bellowed out at the top of her lungs to her:

"If you don't think that your father or I have any love for you, then pack your damn things and leave!"

A suggestion which now had Ella shaking in her booths because she had nowhere to go. Nor did she know of any family member that would pity her and take her in. Strangely, this kind of uncaring sentiment wasn't spoken for one day or in that moment alone, but it continued throughout the Bradshaw household for several months. And not only to Ella, but also to her other female siblings as well. The bellowing out of such unthoughtful words had caused Nella's children to believe that they weren't wanted by her and had them nervous for most of their teenage years.

However, Ella submerged herself under her parents' dictatorship and constant physical abuse until she had had enough.

Still in school, Ella's hands were completely sore from the acid soap she was given to wash the dishes and also the laundry for the entire family. And upon expressing to her mother that she was unable to wash the dishes any longer with her bare hands, Nella flew off the handle and began whopping without mercy. A brutal act that had Ella packing the few little stuff she was in possession of into a flimsy plastic bag and deciding to run away from home.

But her place of refuge wasn't anywhere better off materially than where she was coming from. But much more calmness, peace, and free dialogue was there. A very playful atmosphere she had found it to be. Even though the only place she had there to rest her head at nights was on the hard wooden floor. Because just like her, her friend Beverly and her family were poor, and several of the other siblings were already occupying the extra bed they had for their family. Seeing no comfortable place for Ella to rest her head in their house when the dark dust took its turn, Beverley's grandmother told Ella that she needed to return home to her mother's house. Because they just couldn't have her sleeping on the hard floors any longer.

Needless to say, Ella's friend Beverley, along with her grandmother, wouldn't allow Ella to return to her mother's house all by herself, fearing the outcome if they allowed such a thing to happen.

This moment of truth had caused Ella to wet herself, clench her fist, and dribble a wash pan of tears, because she knew both her parents were going to give her an unmerciful whopping. It might not have been in front of her friend and her grandmother, but the battering would be coming, sooner or later—and it would be sooner rather than later.

Rubbing her back and gently massaging her shoulders, Beverley's grandmother, Ms. May, tried being supportive to Ella, hoping that comforting her would ease the fear she was deeply anticipating in that moment. But Ella didn't care for Ms. May's comforting hands now. What she wanted was for her to find a safe and happy place for her to live, strive, and call home. Because she knew her parents would never allow this occasion of her disappearing from under their roof to slide without giving her a wonderful ass whopping. Possibly taking out an eye or a tooth in the process, like they had warned numerous times previously.

Plastic bag in hand, clutching to Ms. May's skirt, Ella and her friend, along with her grandmother, walked up to the gate of her mother's house. It was late in the evening, and the sun was almost under the evening clouds. Standing at the gate of the Bradshaw house, Ms. May called out repeatedly in a friendly voice.

"Nella!" She shouted.

It was the third call that got Nella's attention and had her answering to the somewhat familiar voice at the front of her gate. Soon, she came barging through her front door from the back of the yard with a dishcloth fumbling in her hand. And seeing Ella's face, she then suddenly made a stop on the veranda and with a surprised look on her face, strangely gazing at those who were standing at her front gate.

"How are you doing?" Ms. May asked.

Answering not the question in the greetings given her, Ms. Nella asked, "So, it is at your yard that this one has been staying all along?"

"Yes, Mam!" Ms. May replied politely, "You already know she and my granddaughter Beverley have been friends at school and also at the church."

"I don't have the space to keep her, so I have brought her home back to you, and I beg that you don't give her a spanking." Ms. May continued.

"I am not the one who is going to do the beating this time around. It will be her father who she will have to deal with this time." Nella warned.

A replied that immediately caused tears to drip from Ella's eyes because she knew how severe his beating can and could be.

"I beg of you not to punish her anymore. Sleeping on my floors was enough punishment for her little body."

Ms. May pleaded as she pulled Ella closer to her in a comforting manner.

"Well, that will be up to her father, not me!" Nella responded.

"If only I had the space to keep her and the money to send her to school, I wouldn't have brought her back here." Ms. May stated with a sad look on her face and regret in her voice.

A statement that had Ms. Nella staring at her with much disdain before she uttered.

"You don't have enough little bastards at your house already to take care of?" Nella fired back.

It was a question that was now getting Ms. May heated and out of her calm and cool character. So, in that moment, Ms. May gave Ella a gentle shove on the shoulders, telling her to get inside the house and put away her belongings. As Ella walked away from underneath her guardianship, Ms. May then expressed to her that she was very sorry that she was unable to do more for her.

Clutching onto the plastic bag, which held her few pieces of clothing, Ella nervously walked past her mother, who was still standing on the veranda and leaning against its railings. And as she passed by her, her mother frighteningly exclaimed to her:

"One thing I certainly know, your papa is going to kill you… that's all I can tell you!"

Ella wasn't sure if she should run away again or if she should hide. Because she knew how terrible her father's hands could be with the whip on any of his children's backs or behinds.

But where could she possibly go? Or where could she hide herself from this battering that was promised to her by her mother?

One thing was certain, she wasn't ready to die, nor could she manage to withstand another dreadful beating. Because, so far, she had already received one nonstop beating from her father at the tender age of five. And she could have easily kicked the bucket, if it wasn't for one of the neighbors in the community, who heard her agonizing screams for help and cries for mercy and decided to intervene. And it was only because this neighbor's husband had come along with her to investigate the merciful crying of a child, who physically held her father while his wife pulled her away from him that she was saved on that day.

"What could this sweet child have done to you? Why you are trying to murder her like this?" Ms. Jenny asked as she held onto Ella and try comforting her.

"Pickny must hear and respond right away to their parents when they speak to them!" Was Ella's father, Christopher's, only reply while he huffed and blew off steam, trying to catch his breath or cool down his temper.

Look what you have done to this poor child's beautiful skin, filling it with welts and turning it black and blue!" Ms. Jenny lashed out with sadness upon her face.

Barely gazing on the marks that he had implemented on the tender skin of this young and fragile body, on one of his own daughters, Ella's father pulled a chair from the dining table and sat himself upon it while the neighbors went on arguing about how cruelly he had beaten the poor child. Just because she hadn't sprung from the floor as quickly as he wanted her to when he asked to see about some dishes while she was in a playful game of jacks with her younger sisters.

Laying his heavy hands on Ella and beating her mercilessly would set an example to the other children in the household, consuming them with dread and fear as long as they were being raised around this man they called their father. He had no interest in showing them love or supporting them emotionally.

He was only there in their lives to provide for them with the basic needs of life and to correct them, and such corrections would only be done with the black piece of wire he called a bicycle brake or with his very strong hands—leaving their skin badly bruised, their bodies in severe pain or out of joint for days.

That was an experience Ella didn't want to encounter ever again in her life. And oftentimes she wondered who would be the good Samaritan to rescue her from her father's grip the next time he laid his hands on her or promised her he was going to give her a fine spanking.

Nervously, Ella entered into the house of her parents and rested the plastic bag with her few pieces of clothing between the dresser and the bed she and her sisters slept on, keenly anticipating that she might have to grab it and run away once again, if her father ever came after her to batter her half to death.

But would this promise of a dreadful whopping be fulfilled?

It was around midnight when Ella's father had returned home from work that Friday evening. And as usual, he search the children's bedroom first, before going into his bedroom, always making sure they were all in the bed asleep and that there weren't any mosquitoes sucking at their blood. This was a very paradoxical or absurd act for him to carry out when he would flog his children so unconscionably—so severely—leaving them with broken wounds, swollen eyes, and disfigured dentistry, leaving them to feed on porridge and soups for several weeks.

Nonetheless, Ella knowing her predicament, slept with one eye open and the other shut, readying herself to flee from the bed, when and if the bicycle brakes started striking against her skin.

Quickly, her plump body jolted as the light from her father's flashlight hoovered over her while her father supposedly counted their bodies and watched for the black insects upon his children's skin. Keeping still like stagnant water, with her eyes closed enough for her father to believe that she was sleeping and for her to watch for his next move, for him reaching for the leather belt around his waist or the bicycle brakes hanging inside his bedroom.

However, after standing over the bed where all the girls in the Bradshaw were fast asleep, including Ella, her father, Christopher, began shining his flashlight from the head of the bed to the foot of it. Minutes later, he made his way back into the living room while mumbling underneath his breath in a tone that didn't warn that he was going to give her flogging.

But in the stillness of the night, his mumbling was loud enough for Ella to hear the words that he was saying to himself:

"You leave out of this house, almost seven days now, with no one knowing where you were going!" Her father said, "I should just go and get the bicycle brakes and give you a fine good assing with it!"

And with those words uttered, Christopher came to the entrance of the children's bedroom doorway numerous times, trying to make up his mind as to whether he should disturb the entire household, and possibly most of the neighborhood, with an ass whopping. Somehow, peace prevailed for that night, so Ella's father entered his bedroom, where he turned off his flashlight and went to his bed. But she was quite certain that Saturday morning would be a completely different story—a story of her being badly wounded or possibly dead.

The fear was very strong, and it had Ella up for the rest of the night, thinking about how to make her escape from the room before her father's eyes opened. And at the first crowing of the rooster in the backyard, Ella got out of bed and began gathering as much dirty clothing around the house as she could, ready to take them to the river and wash them. Because she didn't want to be anywhere in the presence of her father, afraid of what he was going to do to her. But after gathering up all the dirty laundry and going to where the large piece of acid bar soap was usually kept, she found none of it there.

Her plan, being thwarted and filling her with fear, Ella went and sat out in the backyard, waiting for daybreak to come. Meanwhile, she hoped that her mother would rise before her father did so she could somehow request from her the bar soap for doing the laundry or the coins to purchase it.

Spending so many sleepless nights in her friend Beverly's house on the floor, and overthinking the situation that she was in now, the worried young child fell fast asleep on the large piece of log out in the backyard. It was her mother carrying out the large pale pan with piss from during the night, to throw it at the roots of the plants before the sun came up, who found Ella curled up on the long piece of log in the backyard and who shouted at her. Not necessarily to get up, but to tease her about the enormous whacking that would be coming her way to scour her rump, if her father's hands ever got a hold of her during that day.

"You're running from lick, you don't start running as yet!" Ella's mother said to her mockingly.

Ignoring her mother's unkind remarks, Ella shakenly asked while twisting one hand over the other:

"Where is the soap for washing the clothes them?"

"I think they are still inside my working bag." Nella replied after pausing and gazing upon Ella for a while.

Moments later, Nella began making her way back inside the house, and soon, she returned with two pieces of the large bars of acid soap in her hands. Not caring to be tender or careful, she chucked them into Ella's hand, who quickly grabbed them and removed them from the paper bags they were in. Shortly afterwards, Ella put one piece of the bar soap where the dishes were stationed for washing, and the other piece she threw at the side of the washing pan with all the dirty wash inside of it. And seconds later, she was heaping up the large pan of dirty laundry on her head and making her way through the wooden gate of her yard on her way to the riverside, with one foot going after the other in lighting speed as fast as she could.

Almost a hundred yards away from her mother's property, Ella could hear her mother calling out her name and saying that the dishes needed washing before she decided to leave out for the river.

Swiftly, Ella began running with the large washing pan of clothing on the top of her head, hoping that her mother would never catch up with her, if she should come chasing after her or send someone else to come chasing after her, and then demand that she return to the house and wash the dirty dishes before going and doing the laundry by the riverside.

Feeling that she was out of the danger zone of her parents, or even of any of her siblings, Ella began taking it easy on her legs. And slowly, she began making her way by the river bed, stopping by any fruit-bearing trees available to gather her breakfast or possibly her meal for the rest of the day. And that's if she had to make another run from the smacking of her wedgie-box and beyond.

Would poor Ella ever be free from this threat of her father belting her behind far beyond recognition?

And would Ella's own mother consider stepping in and granting some sympathy regarding the violent beatings that lay waiting for her own daughter's life?

Or was her heart fixated on seeing the cruelty that her common-law husband was capable of doing and very ready to dish out on the tender skin of the very children she bore, because such would keep them in-line and quite fearful of the man and woman inside the house?  

After feasting on whatever apples and mangoes she had found on the trees along the pathway to the riverside, Ella continued her journey to the large body of water where she planned on staying the rest of the day, washing the clothing belonging to her parents and the rest of her siblings as well. Because she was so dreadfully afraid of seeing her father face to face. Or having him get close to her where he could quickly grab at her or suddenly knock her unconscious and then beat her to a pulp—mash-mash.

The riverbed was surrounded by many trees, many of them useless for food. Ella carefully made her way up a tiny hill and then towards its bank. And at the edge of the bank, she was utterly happy to see that quite a few other people from the community already had made their way there by the riverside. Especially since the word was going around that a rapist was loose from behind bars, was lingering beyond the bushes of the riverbed, and had made an attack on one of the users of the river already, who had bitten off his penis.

Ella was quite thankful that all the faces there at the river were very familiar ones, and she lowered the large wash pan from her head, placing it beside theirs while shouting out morning greetings to each of them.

Hauling one of the very large stones for her seat and separating the light-colored clothing from the dark ones, Ella then settled down to start her washing, stepping into the middle of the river and bailing out the clearest of water with her cheese pan to begin. Pretty soon, all thoughts pertaining to the trouble with her father were off her mind, and her focus was on finishing her washing to perfection, so her uncaring mother wouldn't rub all the clothing she had spent time washing into the mud once again. And then, she wanted to go and lay in the middle part of that wavy river, where the turquoise blue water flowed precisely in one mystical rhythm, tempting even the fearful to take a quick splash—a place for water lovers to bathe and relax.

But lingering by the flowing waters of the river, trying to delay the outrageous violent beatings expected to come her way, Ella knew that sunset and nightfall would come.