I knew soon after that I should not have defaced the doll
face. I drew a wider outline on its lip and wrote on the dress the word,
‘twat’. Grandma called the mother that every time we visit her. I took fancy to
that word. I had asked Grandma how do I spell it.
“T. T…Tw…Twat…” Grandma uttered to me. The older lady was
bedridden with needles and tubes from her body. Mother told me it was keeping
Grandma alive.
“I had wished they pull the plug on her.” Mother disliked
Grandma because they were no true relations but adopted by choice.
Grandma died some weeks ago and not before she handed me a
doll. It was a simple hand-sewn ragged-looking item to be named a doll but it
had the anatomy of humans; head, torso, and limbs. It was covered with the
makeshift wrap that resembled a dress. The head had two small buttons sewn on
it and there was the strip of cloth to resembled its mouth but no nose. It was
soon after, I drew the lips and added the words.
“Twat…. twat…twat….” I used to chant the words when I took
the doll to play. I will run around the room withy the doll held in my hands
above my head.
“I can see in your dress.” I will add it to my chants. I am
a young lady and modesty was taught to us when we first learned to sit. “I can
see your…twat.”
That last word had to be tone down. If Mother hears me say
that, she will reprimand me. I was scared of my mother when she was in her
angry mood. The doll was with me from young towards my pubes. Soon, I forgot
about the doll. I was with the boys most times, and fooling around. We will do
‘can I see?’ or ‘can I touch?’ and soon the kissing. I was a good girl though.
I was no ‘twat’.
“Yes, you are.” Mother will scream at me when I reached home
late or missed my classes. She knew I was out with some boys although it was
not true. I was by myself at the library or by the pond reading the books. I
disliked her and soon I did everything to stay away from her. I did not tell
her anything about me.
I did not tell her of my menstrual cramps.
But I told myself it will be over.
And the nightmares came.
Twat…. twat…. twat.
The sight of my doll will appear. It was life-sized. And its
lip will move as it talking to me but it was not the lips. It was more like the
labia that was on my vagina.
Twat… twat…twat.
The tongue will appear from there. It snaked out and rolled
towards the navel. It was long and glistening with secretion. It will snake up
over the robe and then lingered at my belly hole. There the belly hole will
soon widen and swallowed the tongue.
I would have screamed by then.
The tongue will appear from the vagina like a phallus
leveled towards me.
I screamed even louder clutching my groin. The pain was
intense.
It happened every cycle.
I had no one to talk with. I will not touch the doll. I
believed it was bewitched.
I was afraid for some years.
My mother died soon after, and upon clearing her room, I
found her diary. She was no longer with me, and I read her writings. I learned
of her relationship with my Grandma.
“I was adopted by my mother. She was a good mother until I
grew into my teens. She became obsessed with my physical beauty although I was
plain. She accused me of seducing my foster father who had died a few years
back. My foster mother accused me of being a witch and soon she ignored. She
called me names and found faults in my life. I ran away but I kept on
returning. I did not know why until after she was sick. It was in her mumblings
that she told me what she did.”
“My foster mother had cursed me with her own dabbling into
the witchery. She had cursed me to live my life as a twat. I was upset at her
for doing that. I was no twat; yes, I had a few failed relationships but I was
attracted to the older men. I found my solace in their comfort as if they were
my father. I needed love but men have other needs. I found myself alone most
times, and soon with my daughter. I was sickened by my mother’s woes but I
repaid her kindness till her death.”
“I was soon to know that the curse was onto my daughter. She
may be a twat. I have to stop her. I tried but I have failed. I am so sorry, my
daughter. We are all destined to be twats.”
It was then I burnt everything my grandma handed to us
including the silverwares which were melted. Finally, I held the doll in my
hand. I was reluctant to toss it but the word ‘twat’ on it stared into my soul.
I took the strength to toss it in the fire bin. I watched it burn and the
sounds of the flames burning the doll sounded like words
Twat… twat…twat.
I felt the cramp in my groin. It was not the time of the
cycle. I went down on my knees to pray for forgiveness.
Twat… twat…twat.
The pain was intense and I had to curl up on like a
frightened kitten. I cried out my pain with tears and voice. I substituted the
word for bitch.
“Bitch!” I called out. “I am no twat.”
I recalled nothing after that. I left the place where I grew
up and found my life elsewhere. I was well again and no more pains during
menstrual. I got married and have my own kids with a loving husband. Every
morning, soon after I wake up, I say this to myself.
“Bitch! I am no twat.” I believed I have lifted the curse.
“Morning, bitch.” That was my husband's morning greeting.
“Better than yours, prick.” I will reply while preparing
breakfast. My boys will join me later and they are no ‘liddle Puddy’ twats with
no dolls in the house. Only GI Joe’s.
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