Kiekie's POV
I overheard Mom that night saying my sister Bettina, or Ettina as we call her, would be returning from Cape Town, South Africa, for summer vacation.
The day my sister returned, I had caused a scene at school. That only made them hate me more—it was like pouring gasoline on fire, or a hazardous chemical into an unstable solution.
My older sister Bettina despised me with every bone in her body. I asked her once why she hated me so much. She told me I stole our parents' love from her. But in the first place, they didn't care about me! If it weren't for Father Jonathan, I wouldn't even be in school!
They refused to pay my fees because I wanted to become a chemist. They said I would end up jobless, useless to society—because Liberia doesn't have many industries that need chemists. They failed to realize that times change, and one day, Liberia will grow.
I believe what Mahatma Gandhi said:
> "If you want to see change, you have to be the change you want to see in the world."
Keke: My parents were so wrong! I'm one of the best female chemists now! I work at Firestone in the Herbal division, and my pay is amazing.
All my life, it had been my dream to become a chemist. I always wanted to do the impossible. I guess that's why they didn't like me. I remembered my mom blaming me for what happened when we were in Ivory Coast.
I was just two years old. I didn't know the gas tank was open. I lit a match, and our house burned to ashes—including Dad's company, which was inside the house. From that day, my parents and siblings hated me.
When I got home, everyone was already there. Their cars were parked outside. I entered the house and saw them looking at me with burning rage and disgust… except for JC, my elder brother.
"Bon après…" I began, but Ettina cut me off.
"I GUESS YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO BUT BRING TROUBLE INTO OUR LIVES!!! I DON'T KNOW WHY MOM AND DAD ARE STILL KEEPING A BAD LUCK IN OUR HOUSE! YOU ARE THE REASON I WAS SENT BACK, YOU WITCH!!! I JUST HATE YOU! TOTALLY DESPISE YOU, KIEKIE!!"
Her rage burned in her eyes, and her body shook as she yelled. She stomped out of the living room. I couldn't understand—how was I responsible for her misfortune? If she was sent back, it wasn't my fault. I had only felt sorry for her.
My daydream was interrupted by Mom.
"When will you stop creating trouble for this family? I wish… I wish I had aborted your pregnancy! I wish you were never born, Kiekie! You are a disgrace! You are my worst mistake!"
Her words cut me like shards of glass. She ran upstairs behind her, like a cat chasing a mouse.
Keke: Those words still hurt me, Cleo. Sometimes, I wonder… what did I do to deserve this? (crying)
Narrator: Please forgive them, babe. You're Catholic—a Christian. Remember that!
Keke: I have forgiven them, but I will not forget. I won't allow anyone to abuse my future children with words. Emotional abuse is the worst abuse. Physical scars heal faster than emotional ones, and only God's grace can help you survive them.
Narrator: That's my baby. Not now—wipe your tears. We still have a lot to explain. You can release your pain later. It helps you heal after triggers.
Keke: You're right.
I felt numb. I couldn't breathe. My eyes blurred. Panic was rising—but before it could overtake me completely, I heard Dad's voice.
"How could you, Kiekie? Chuck's dad is one of our biggest shareholders. You better beg that principal of yours not to punish him, or… you won't be able to tell your abomination friend what I'll do to you. She'll only find your corpse when I'm done."
He walked away to comfort his "princess." Dad had never threatened me before. I had always endured emotional abuse, but now there was a new kind of fear—physical threat.
Back then, if given a choice, I would have chosen physical pain. At least that's something you can see and treat. Emotional abuse burrows into your mind. Back then, my subconscious mind was controlled by those around me, letting me sink into depression.
I never reported Chuck and his gang, because my parents had already said, "You deserved it."
I looked at JC, hoping for support. He approached, hugged my trembling body, and whispered:
"I wish I could protect you in front of them. I'm sorry, Keke. I'm a failure as a brother."
Minutes later, he stepped back, his pityful gaze following our parents. I hated pity. When people pitied me, I wished I could disappear.
I whispered to myself:
"I guess you can never get used to hurtful words, no matter how much you try."
Then I realized something powerful: hurtful words only control you if you let them. Once you master your subconscious mind, even words from the cruelest people can no longer break you.