“God said you are my wife.”

For the remaining days of our engagement, I was scared of Brother Isaac. Anytime he came close, my body shuddered in fear at the thought of him hitting me again.

He apologized for beating me the other day, he said he was led by the Holy Spirit to do it, to remove that devil that wanted to tear down the house of God through me.

Brother Isaac and I fasted for 40 days leading up to our wedding day. No water, no food.

When I was on my period on the 27th day of our fast, I almost passed out. I begged Brother Isaac to let me drink water for just these three days of my menstruation and I would make up for it after the 40 days.

He locked me up in the prayer room for those three days. I bled on the floor, I cried in pain on the floor. I begged God to just kill me that instant. Life was not worth living anymore.

The fasting continued even after my period was over. How I survived it, I don’t know.

But what I could not survive was what happened on the 39th day of the fast. Two days before our wedding.

My family and friends had come into Kogi for the wedding. They stayed in the boys’ quarters with me, and I knew I had to make their stay worth their while.

I walked down the street to help my mother buy pure-water to bath since water did not run in our church compound.

As I waited for the pure-water seller to bring my change, I glanced at the rowdy Mama Put restaurant opposite the small shop I stood by. Jealousy filled my heart as I forgot what ordinary food tasted like on my tongue. Before I looked away, I saw something shiny stand out. Bald head. Two bald heads.

I stared directly into the Mama Put canopy to see something for myself.

Pastor Benjamin and... enh?!

Was that Brother Isaac, abi my eyes dey pain me?

His bald head moved from one corner to the other as he devoured the pounded yam and egusi soup that was filled to the brim on the plate in front of him.

Ah, my chest!

I cleaned my eyes and looked again. It was actually him.

It was Brother Isaac!

This man! This was the same bafoon that locked me up in the prayer room during my period because I begged for a tiny drop of water?! And he was here eating pounded yam and egusi?! Without me?!

Wait. Was this where this man has always been disappearing to in the evenings for the past 30 days? To break his fast while I starved to bed?

Ah! Ah! This man has finished me!

I lifted my skirt and ran towards the Mama Put canopy. What I was going to do to Brother Isaac, I don’t know. But only rage and violence had the answer.

Before I could reach the canopy, a metal flashed before my eyes. A white Toyota Hilux appeared from nowhere and threw me five feet away from where I was standing from. And I found myself lying flat on the ground.

My body could not move. My brain felt like exploding out of my head.

Then all I saw after… was darkness.

I woke up in the hospital later that evening. I had been hit by that Toyota Hilux car when I was on my way to kill Brother Isaac.

For a moment, I thought the wedding would be called off. I thought God had redeemed me. But the doctors said my surgery was successful and that I would be able to walk down the aisle... in a wheelchair.

Everyone that came to visit me rejoiced at this news.

“Indeed, this is a match made in heaven.” Pastor Benjamin praised me and Brother Isaac, “The devil tried but he was defeated. What God has joined together, no man put asunder. Somebody shout hallelujah.”

“Hallelujah!!!”

***

The wedding day was finally here. I was about to become Mrs Rebecca Adesanmi. Mummy A of the church.

I begged my sister to carry me and run away to Abuja. Let nobody see us. I did not want to walk down that aisle. Brother Isaac was a mad man.

My sister told me she could not interfere with God’s plan for my life. Even you too?

As I was pushed on the wheelchair down the aisle to meet Brother Isaac on the altar, I looked at the faces all around me. There was a smile on everybody’s face, that same devious smile Pastor Benjamin wore. They all smiled at me like I was a sheep to be slaughtered. Like I was the burnt offering about to be sacrificed for the atonement of their sins.

All through the church service, there was an emptiness in my spirit. It was like the life and spirit left in my body had vanished into thin air because of Brother Isaac.

I looked up at the small wooden statute of Jesus Christ hanging on the cross. His face... as if He were looking down at me with sorrow. Poor me, abi? The agony in Jesus’ eyes looked exactly like the agony in mine. Life had been sucked out of both of our bodies.

For the first time in a long time, I felt a connection with that cross.

Sacrifice.

Wait.

Sacrifice.

Then it hit me. There was a sacrifice already.

He was right in front of me. Jesus.

Why did it have to be me to lay down every other distraction to advance God’s Kingdom and forsake my soul for the soul of many? Kilonshele? Am I Jesus?

“We will now invite the bride and the groom to come to the altar.” Pastor Benjamin, the pastor who officiated our wedding, called out for Brother Isaac and me.

I was wheeled to the altar and stood opposite the bafoon. He smiled as if this moment was all he dreamt about. I was to be his wife, and he was to be my husband.

But I did not see a husband standing in front of me. I saw a bastard with Maltesers head devouring pounded yam and egusi during our 40 days fasting together. A Judas Iscariot. A pharaoh. A Saul. An Ahab. Satan himself.

“Rebecca, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” Pastor Benjamin asked me.

“God forbid.” I blurted out.

There was a gasp in the atmosphere, eyes wide open in shock at my response to the vow bestowed upon me.

“Rebby, what are you doing?” Brother Isaac asked through gritted teeth.

“What I should have done the first day I met you.” I said and stood up from my wheelchair.

I began to run down the altar, but my legs failed me, and I fell flat on the ground.

Omo.

What should I do now?

I wanted to stay on the ground. To just lay down flat and bury my face in shame. See embarrassment. I thought I was super woman.

Or... should I just go back to my wheelchair and accept my God-given fate with Brother Isaac?

Pray! Rebby, pray!

Ah, no. I shook my head.

God forbid.

I looked up, ignoring the judging faces in front of me.

I only had one thing left to do.

I crawled my way out of the altar. And nobody dare stop me.

Nobody even offered to help me because, “What mannerism of madness is this girl displaying?”

Yes, Brother Isaac. I was possessed. I was possessed by the spirit of abnormality, the spirit of confusion, the spirit of madness, the spirit of dishonour… and the spirit of insanity! All because of you!

Call me what you want, I don’t care anymore!

I would rather die like aunty Folake than live with a mad man like you. Aunty Folake died a free woman. She died a woman with peace of mind. She died knowing her own rights. She died with her dignity and sanity left intact. No rubbish manipulator told her how to live her life. She lived instead of surviving.

Aunty Folake was not miserable. The true misery was this “God-given” life. This life of bondage, all in the name of being a pastor’s “wife”.

That was no living. That was torture.

I continued crawling towards the door of the church, glimpse of sunlight escaping through the glass. That was my ray of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel.

Mad woman? That’s okay. Shameless woman? Thank you. Being alive? That’s the goal.

I would crawl my way back to life.

Baby steps. That was all it took.

I would get myself together bit by bit.

No more cathedral hell.

No more lies anymore.

No more deceit.

No more chains.

This cross was not mine to carry. Jesus already paid the price many years ago.

I pushed the church door open, the brightness of the sun blinding my entire existence.

I was free. I cried. I was finally free!

Isaac Adesanmi, I don’t know what God you heard, but God would never give me a husband that would want to kill me.

You were a deceiver and a user.

God punish you.

One thing I know... my God is not a dictator.

Brother Isaac, you are.