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Raging Storm

by J Ogberaha 

Posted: 26 May 2014
Word Count: 455
Summary: In this short story we see that emotions are based on our reactions to situations. In the long run,we determine what happens to situations.

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"I'll kill her today!" I promised myself.Her attitude was in need of straightening and my whip was ready to do the magic because her case was beyond human repair. "How could she sleep out without informing me?" I said to myself as I scrambled through her room to find any clues of her whereabouts. Her room was as untidy as her character. I tried my best to make sure she goes to the best of schools. I even went as far as ensuring that she didn't lack anything money could buy, whether she had any need of it or not. "I will no longer put up with this delinquent nature of hers," I said as I darted out of her room, there she was looking like a drugged zombie. Was she taking any substance?

"Where on earth do you think you are coming from,Jadesola?" I screamed out my voice. She almost pushed me down as she breezed past me into her room. "Mum,it's none of your business what I do with my life. I can do what I want and not have to answer to anyone",she said batting her eyes in a repulsive manner .
Rage raced through my body and the only thing that crossed my thoughts,rather my hands instead was to give her a slap. It was a resounding one; I felt the pain. I wanted to apologize but I left my pride hanging in my throat and I wouldn't swallow it.

There,she was, sulking and sobbing as she began to pick some clothes from her wardrobe. She was leaving again?
"Where in Venus do you think you are going to?" I raged like a mad dog. I was angry not for anything but because I didn't want Jadesola to go through the same route I took that led to her birth. I was protecting her,so I thought. "You come home late when I am asleep and now you manage to be around and you want to clutch me in your claws? I hate you!"
"Whooop!" It left my hands again. I couldn't control my temper and there she was,her head against the wall. She had tripped from the slap I gave her. Her head bled. It left a paint-like stain on the white wall. Cringing, I bent to talk to her. She wasn't saying a word,she just stayed there,still. Motionless. I had done it; I had killed my own daughter like I said. What could be worse?  that the last thing I heard my daughter say was that she hated me,her own mother.
I was in total despair as I heard a knock on the door. It was the first Friday of the month: her father was here to see her--as always.

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