js creative media_Dont Kill Us


Hello dad? Hello mum? I write this wiping away tears from my young cheeks. Tears of fear. Fear of what might happen to me and my little sister. Am afraid. Ideally, I should be writing to ask you for protection from my fears. Ironically, you are the ones I now dread more than the vampires in horror movies. But I still love you because I have not known any parents apart from you.

I have been watching in the news how estranged parents have brutally murdered their kids without an iota of remorse. Hardly a day passes without such an incident getting mentioned. I always shed tears for the innocent souls deprived of a life so promising and full of hope. Not killed by bears or wild dogs but by their biological parents. Parents who just decided to turn against their own flesh. Which child couldn’t be afraid.?

A little background search has always pointed to family wrangles. Wrangles the kids were not privy to. Wrangles they never took part in, they only found themselves in the mix. Nobody cared to listen to them. But still what could they have to say in situations they understood nothing about? And what did they get back for their innocence? Brutal murder. Are you now seeing why am afraid?

Granny’s place

Lately, you, our parents, haven’t been in good terms. It is no longer the same lively life we grew up in. Everything today is messy and noisy. The frequent fights and quarrels are draining us. They are affecting us emotionally and physically. Is our presence in your lives irritating hence the cause of all this rampage? Were you happy before we came into your lives? Are you just afraid to face and tell us to our faces that we, your kids, are the reason for the constant fights? So that you have resorted to turn your anger to each other? Tell us. We will walk out to our granny’s place and start life there. Granny loves us unconditionally. She calls me ‘ My husband’ because am named after her husband my late grandfather. She always cooks us good food and sings nice traditional songs to us every evening when we are at her place. That is why I want to take my sister with me, and seek refuge there. In our absence, I guess you will be happy again. You won’t fight anymore. You will embrace warmly and cuddle like young lovers. Just open up.

A slap

Last month a hot slap landed on my innocent cheeks when I tried intervening in your fights. Am still hurting. I had to lie to my teacher in school that I had fallen over while riding my bicycle with friends at home. She never doubted. I feel guilty I lied. I should have just told her you guys were fighting and when I tried to stop you, you unleashed one missile my way and it landed on my cheek. Now I understand why peace-keepers die in those peace keeping missions. I wanted to do what our priest said when he was preaching about the beatitudes. You remember, ” Blessed are the peace makers for they shall be called sons of God.” I wanted to be called a son of God. But you angrily shouted at me and hit me in the process and out of fear I had to run and hide in my bedroom as you hit each other, tore each other’s clothes and insulted each other in terms you’d kill me if I dared use on other kids yet I have come to learn them from you mom and dad. I still haven’t forgotten how my little sister frantically cried that day.


I know you are planning a divorce. Mum has said she will take us with her to wherever she goes. You have severally threatened her of untold consequences if she takes us with her. I can tell things are going south. Soon or later we are going to disappear. Our neighbours will say they haven’t seen us in a while. They will admit that our home has had a tough and rough time in recent days. Everyone will be worried.

Reports will be made in all police stations around. Our pictures will be circulated on social and mainstream media. People will be asked to report any information regarding our disappearance and whereabouts to the police. Some will offer rewards.  One week will elapse without a trace of us. Anxiety and fear will now increase. It will now be almost obvious that we are no more.

Authorities and relatives will begin tracing our last movements. They will go through CCTV cameras in the neighbourhood. They will check our parents last communications on their phones.  Then boom, shallow graves will be discovered in a thicket nearby with badly mutilated bodies of two kids rightfully believed to be ours. A lot of people will gather around. Women will be wailing uncontrollably. Police will be having difficulty controlling people from coming too close and interfering with the scene of crime. People will flash out their phones and take pics of our lifeless bodies to update on their social media statuses. Others will post and say, “Type rip if you have a heart”. Journalists will interview people around. Some will say what they know, others will say what they think, others will say what they heard. But they will all be speaking about our death. The police will say investigations have been launched and they will bring the suspect to book.

We will be soon forgotten

That incident will be the headline during news time. Everyone will be shocked and sad. They will type ” rip angels”. One week will pass and we will be forgotten. Our cousins and uncles will miss us but they will soon move on. In another week’s time, we shall have been buried upcountry and that will be it. Forgotten for good.

So please, let us out as early as now. We don’t want what befell our mates find us. If possible, please reconcile and continue living together happily with us. Before the chaos, you have been the best parents we could ask for. I still believe you are. Bring back the love, the laughter, the joy, the hugs, the gifts, the walks, the outs, the picnics and games that were our way of life. I beg. Because, I don’t want to die and be discovered in a shallow grave. I don’t want to die in the hands of a parent I have loved all along. No. I also want to grow up and bring forth lovely kids that will be your grandkids. Please don’t kill me! Don’t kill each other also. We need both of you in our lives.

By a child from an enstranged family to his parents.

Tags: No tags

One Response

Add a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *