Tears of an Orphan
Thank you for reading this post, don't forget to subscribe!Episode 11
© Francis Mary Solomon
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months.
Yet Cynthia kept enduring the cruel treatment of her aunt. She shuffled from school to house chores to her aunt’s shop. It had not been easy for her. Sometimes her little body broke down in sickness, but her aunt would never hear of it.
“She’s pretending, just to be lazy!” her aunt always said.
It reached an extent where one day Cynthia fainted. A customer in the shop found her lying on the floor. They called her, but there was no response. People who knew her rushed in, helped, and carried her quickly to the hospital.
When her aunt heard, she was filled with rage but pretended it was concern. She thought Cynthia was only trying to escape work. Still, she informed her husband that Cynthia had been admitted.
“Darling, I think I’ll go first before you come later. Or should we both dress up and let Greatness watch over the meal?” her husband suggested.
“No, just go. I’ll come later with food, so that when they revive her, she’ll have something to eat,” she replied.
When he drove out of the compound, she sat in the living room, grumbling in her mind.
“This little witch! She thinks she can rest in my house? Pretending to faint just to escape work? I will never give her rest. I will deal with her life until she begs to leave. I will not waste my strength on her myself.”
Her bitterness grew.
“Her mother was so wicked. I wanted to be friends with her, but she shut me out because she claimed they were wealthy. I will show her that even in the grave she will feel my cruelty. I will torture her daughter! That wicked woman thought she was the only one praised in this family. Every day it’s ‘Linda is the best, Linda is the kindest, Linda is the most respectful wife.’ I am disgusted! Now, let us see how long she will be praised.”
Mrs. Olajide hissed loudly as she walked into the kitchen to check the food. When it was done, she turned off the gas and went into the room to call her friend.
“Hey babe, what’s up?” she said as the call connected.
“I’m fine. Any update?” her friend asked.
“This useless little prostitute is making my life miserable! Can you imagine? They called to say she slumped in the shop. I feel like ending her life!”
“Hey Ruth, don’t be so cruel,” her friend cautioned. “Her body could not take the stress and maltreatment. That’s why she collapsed. I advise you, even if you maltreat her, don’t go as far as taking her life.”
“Oh babe, you don’t understand how pissed I am at this poor brat. Yes, I know she’s hardworking, but her sight disgusts me. My in-laws love Linda above me and the other wife. I am so disgusted, and I vent my anger on Cynthia. What I want is to just end her life, but I calm myself because of my husband.”
“Hey, calm down,” her friend said gently. “Remember, you are our church deaconess. Maltreatment is bad enough, but murder is worse. Don’t go too far.”
“Okay, fine,” Mrs. Olajide said. “I’ve heard you.”
“Okay, . When you come over, we will strategize how to make her suffer more.”
She ended the call, dished food into a flask, and prepared to leave.
“I am going to the hospital to see Cynthia,” she told Greatness plainly.
“Mommy, can I follow you? I want to see her,” Greatness begged.
“No, not today. You can visit tomorrow. It’s late already,” her mother replied sharply.
“Please Mommy, I promise I’ll come back with Daddy. I only want to see her,” Greatness pleaded.
Her mother studied her face, then sighed. “Okay. You have one minute to dress up. If not, I will leave you.”
Greatness quickly changed into something nice and followed her mother happily.
When they arrived at the hospital, Cynthia lay pale and weak. Tubes were fixed into her small hands. She looked so lifeless that Greatness’s heart shattered.
The sight was too much for her. Greatness’s lips trembled, her eyes filled instantly, and before anyone could stop her, she burst into tears.
“Cynthia! Please wake up… please don’t leave me!” she cried loudly, gripping her sister’s thin hand with both of hers.
Her small shoulders shook as she bent over the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Tears rolled down her cheeks and wet Cynthia’s blanket.
Mr. Olajide rushed forward and pulled her gently into his arms.
“Don’t cry, my child… don’t cry,” he whispered softly. His own voice was heavy with pain. “She will be fine. God is with her. She will not die.”
But Greatness clung to him tightly, crying even harder.
“Daddy, I don’t want her to die… I don’t want Cynthia to die!”
He stroked her hair and pressed her face against his chest.
“She won’t, sweetheart. I promise you. God will keep her alive. Just believe.”
Slowly, his words began to calm her. Sniffing and wiping her tears, Greatness pulled away from his chest. She turned back to Cynthia and, still sobbing quietly, climbed onto the side of the bed.
She sat very close to her, holding her hand gently and resting her head beside her arm, as if to keep watch over her sister.
Even her mother, though cold at heart, reached out and wiped Greatness’s face with her scarf, muttering, “Enough of the tears. She will wake up soon.”
Then silence filled the ward. Each person drifted into their own thoughts.
Mrs. Olajide sat quietly, secretly happy to see Cynthia so weak, yet wishing she would recover quickly enough to return to the shop.
Greatness sat by Cynthia’s side, praying silently in her little heart: “Lord, please heal Cynthia. She works too much, she eats little, she sleeps little, and Mommy treats her harshly. Please give her strength.”
Mr. Olajide leaned back in his chair, regret pounding in his chest.
“I have not been a good uncle. My brother would not be happy with me. Lord, forgive me. If You heal Cynthia, I will protect her and make her happy.”
They all remained in this heavy silence until the doctor’s voice interrupted.
“Excuse me, sir. May I see you in my office?”
Mr. Olajide rose quickly and followed. The doctor was already seated behind his desk, calm, with Cynthia’s file open before him.
“Doctor,” Mr. Olajide began nervously, “since I came in, Cynthia has not revived. What is really wrong with her? Why is she still unconscious?”
The doctor folded the file and answered gently.
“Sir, please try to listen carefully. Cynthia is very weak. She has been overworked, eating too little, and has no proper rest. Her body could not carry it anymore. That is why she collapsed . We resuscitated her with intravenous fluids and gave a mild sedative so her body could rest.”
Mr. Olajide breathed heavily and nodded slowly. “Oh God… I see. Thank you, doctor.”
The doctor hesitated, then continued softly, “But sir… there is something else.”
Mr. Olajide’s heart jumped. “What is it?”
The doctor sighed deeply. “Cynthia is about six weeks pregnant.”
The words struck like thunder.
“What!” Mr. Olajide shouted, nearly falling from his chair. “No, doctor, that is not possible! She will only be fourteen tomorrow!”
“I know it is hard,” the doctor said gently. “But the result is true. She is pregnant. And sir, she is too young and too weak. If she does not get proper care, both her life and the baby’s life are in danger.”
Mr. Olajide’s hands shook violently. He pressed his face into his palms, his heart pounding.
“My niece… pregnant? At fourteen? God, what kind of sorrow is this?”
The doctor gave him a prescription. “Get these drugs from the pharmacy. And please, let her start antenatal care immediately. Protect her from further harm.”
Mr. Olajide nodded weakly, left the office in a daze, bought the drugs, and returned to the ward.
When he entered, Cynthia was awake. She looked pale and weak. Greatness was by her side, trying to feed her gently.
“Sister, please, eat a little,” Greatness begged, lifting a spoon to her lips.
Cynthia shook her head faintly and whispered, “I don’t feel like eating. I just want water.”
“Okay, let me get you water,” Greatness replied quickly, rushing out with the money her father had given her.
Inside the ward, Mr. Olajide exchanged a heavy glance with his wife. Then, with a worried face, he quickly turned to Cynthia.
Though weak, Cynthia noticed his strange look and wondered silently why her uncle was staring at her that way.
To be continued…
Inspired by the Great Teacher.
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Stay blessed until we meet in the next episode.
Written by Francis Mary Solomon.