The worst prison in life is a home without tranquillity and understanding.
I grew up in a home without peace and love; it affected my mental health a lot and most times I resorted to violence without even knowing it.
My parents were far from the perfect couple and I knew it was going to affect my half-siblings more than it did to me. I lost my biological mom during my birth; I was just two months when my father was forced to marry my mom’s cousin.
Their union was an arranged marriage; my grandparents never liked my mom and didn’t waste time making my dad get married to their choice.
I grew up in a hateful environment as my step-mom hated me with everything in her; at the age of six, she made me do all the chores. I was malnourished and overworking; it affected my growth and development a lot.
At the age of seven; I always witnessed my dad fighting with my step-mom; I wished sometimes I died with my mom.
After school‚ I hated to go home and many times I trekked home instead of going by the school bus; I wanted to go home late as to get a little peace before heading home.
My home was my worst nightmare and I couldn’t wait to be enrolled in a boarding school.
My home never got better‚ and today makes it six years since I ran away from home. I knew I was losing it and staying in such an environment won’t do me any good.