Forever Forsaken

Adanna’s POV

I will never forget the day I swore vengeance on my father. My father was a man who was supposed to be the lover of my mother and a man of the so-called foolish god. He was either of those things; he was a murder.
It had only been five years after I had been born into the Animal Tribe or the Newgoccti as my people call it. I remember as I walked out of my mother’s hut. She hadn’t been feeling good. The witch doctors were doing there best to make her feel better but nothing had worked. Our only hope was to pray to Age. Sometimes, I feel like the gods have left me.
Once outside, I realized that my father was nowhere in sight. Becoming worried, I decided to search for him.
“Daddy?” I asked, as I peeked into a hut. Then, I saw him his face aglow by the fire. “Daddy, are you okay?”
He said nothing at first but I saw him reach for something that was hidden in his coat. He slowly pulled out a shiny sliver object that I soon learned the name of: a white man’s killer or also known as a gun.
I watched in fear as he raised the device towards my head and uttered the words, “Spawn of Satan.”
I screamed and ran out of the hut. I heard a gun shot from behind. The people began to look at me. They saw my father running after me, mad as a raging bull, yelling verses from some book of his god. I ran as fast as I could. My heart beat quickly with each step. My lungs were on fire. I quickly turned into a cheetah and picked up my pace.
I finally reached the outskirts of my people. It was at the river where we were cut off from the white men. I turned back into my human form. I sat there only to catch my breath, hoping and thinking I had lost my father when my side was pierced. I gave out a long howl like a wounded wolf that echoed. I felt the blood pouring out of my body. I fell to the ground on the edge of the river. I heard my father’s footsteps getting nearer. He picked me up and held me over the raging river.
“So long devil child.” He said.
And then, he tried to end my life.

It was a miracle I survived at all. I don’t’ remember what happened. I just remember being out of the water, sitting near the edge of the river. I heard voices calling my name and my father’s. Malcolm was his name. Malcolm, the name I swore to hate. I learned his name well and I remembered his face. From that day on, I only had one goal in life: to find Malcolm and make him pay.

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