Bad

You turn silently, slowly. You look over to where she's lying carelessly. On the other end of your king-sized bed. Distress is written all over her face even when she sleeps, she still thinks. How miserable you've made her life. She thinks about you. How bad you are to her. You know it. You know it clearly but you don't care, or you care too much, otherwise you wouldn't look at her for so long in the middle of the night.

You've not been eating in the house for two weeks now. She always call you at 4pm to ask you what you want to eat. You ignore her calls, sometimes you pick up and tell her you're busy, of course, you're lying. This is your woman she knows you get out of the office at 3:39pm and for whatever reason, you can't wait for the clock to hit forty or fifty.

Then you come back home at 10pm, sometimes at midnight. You don't answer her questions, you don't care about her well-being. You don't ask how's she has been. How her pregnancy is. What her cravings are. Her morning sickness has gotten worse by day, but still that's the least of your concerns. You didn't bother looking at her in her black lingerie last week. All fresh and sexy for her man. You have failed her as a man, you don't care about her bedroom needs, or clothing or food.

She might be knowing about Mercy, or Sheilla or Esther. She might have felt it or she saw it coming because you're a dirty man. A man who turned his back on his own family to shag women in the club house into a corner and smash them. A man who began drinking more and more. A man who no longer has a sense of direction in his life. No matter how much you've hurt her, how much you chose alcohol, your friends and other women over her. She always chooses you. She always worries about you and it's genuine. She always does your laundry, especially the dirty socks and boxers that smell like other women. The shirts smelling of another woman's cologne. She smells them, sits on the laundry counter and cries.

You want to wake her up and kiss her. Make love to her - your true woman. You tell her you lost your job and Sheilla and Mercy and all those one night stands and bastards you called drinking buddies ran out on you. You want to tell her Miriam (your number one side chick) broke up with you and insulted you. You want to cry on her chest. But it's not the easiest thing to do.

One thing you're sure of, she's the only woman, like your mother, who will tolerate you even after you let your own mistakes and reckless drinking steal your job.

You pull yourself close to her, you kiss her forehead then turn away from her, pull the duvet. You pity her, you feel for her. You are a monster. You're her death. You wipe a tear...

_

Gloria Nyagaka is Kenyan and just completed her Bachelor's degree in Geology.

She has been a writer for six years now. Her manuscript is the biggest project she’s ever done, a modern romantic thriller, is in the hands of her literary agent. It is a book that expresses great female characters and the strength of a woman at large. She mostly campaigns against women violence and for freedom for women to choose. She also focuses on how great women have changed the world, Michelle Obama, Serena Williams, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and others. She is a swimmer, a swim coach, a Taekwondoka, hockey player, and a dancer.