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You survived the abuse. You're going to survive the recovery.
                             - Unknown.

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Hello to my present! A new year! A new goal! A new me!

Indeed, last year was tough but I truly don't know what this year has for me. I will be twenty-one this year. Will I ever find the happiness I seek? I'm a fighter now. I know my parents want to see me succeed and that I will.

"First of January," I mumble as I lay on my side of the floor, my own bed.

A little smile finds my face.

"It's a new year!" I scream. My voice echoes and then silence settles.

I guess Rita isn't back from work.

"It's a new morning, a new day, a new year," I breathe out and scurry to my feet. "Hello, world! Ifunanya Dora James is ready to fight back".

I smile and pick my toiletries. Firstly, I need to fight to bath in the public bathroom downstairs.

Yes, I still live at the small cube. I know I should be grateful but it's hard to be. I deserve more so I shall work to earn it.

I scamper down the stairs and to the bathroom. Pushing and pulling the crowd, my eyes spot the door and I move to it. However, another person roughly pushes his way in. The real fight begins though not as punches. We haul insults to anyone and everyone who tries to cheat his or her way in. I do know some people's tactic. They bathe outside when the sun is yet to rise. I should have done that but I find it hard to sleep in the night. I still deal with nightmares so waking that early is quite difficult for me.

I successfully have my shower after some time and then, I head back to the small cube. I go into the cube with a smile but it vanishes faster than I can describe. You might wonder what made it vanish. It is a sight! A sight of someone! A sight of pain! A sight seen through a mirror. My scars!

My heart breaks again and again and again and again. Just seeing the scars makes me filled with despair. The painful memories flood my mind and all I see in the mirror is Ugliness!

    I'm Ugly!
       Ugly!
       Ugly!

No man can ever love me! I'm Ugly. I have UGLY scars!

I clasp my arms and my nails deep into my skin. Quickly, I rush to get my book filled with quotes. Yes, I have a book of Quotes to keep me sane. I do believe that the pen is mightier than a sword. Writers have the power to change the world with just a stroke of their pen. A story can affect the minds of its readers.

Reading novels is my safe haven. It has always helped me during my challenging times. I remember my close friend in secondary school who knew about the abuse I faced at home. She would always send snacks, books and torchlights for me. I would hide them in the store room because I knew that when either my aunt or uncle was angry, they would lock me in there. When they did, I would read and pray for happiness even though it always felt hopeless. I thought I would go to university to achieve my dream of studying psychology but I was presented with another opportunity to learn tailoring. Why would my aunt allow me to learn tailoring? Because her best friend needed an errand girl and I was the best option. Though her friend used me as her slave, she still did something nice by teaching me tailoring. I grasped that opportunity and now, it is helping me.

My good friend, Tina had prepared this Book of Quotes for me. She wrote every words with her precious cursive handwriting and it shall forever be cherished. 

The leather cover of the book sends shivers up my spin as I hug it to my bare chest. Tears trickle down my cheek, my fingers caressing its pages. I pick a random page and read aloud, "You survived the abuse. You're going to survive the recovery".

I nod my head and take in sharp breathes to steady my battered heart.

"I can't give up! I survived the abuse for ten years. Time to survive the recovery. My skin might never be as flawless as before but I have to be positive," I say and move to the mirror. I fix my eyes on my arms and torso. They have the most scars. My legs are still smooth and flawless. I guess because I am quite to dodge the belts with my long legs but my arms were always unlucky. Long sleeves are my friends. "The wounds are healing. Thank God".

My lips are still bent downwards. The wounds are going but leaving scars. I go back to the book that I had lay on the old, weary cupboard. I take it back to my bag. It's safer there than this messy room.

"Thanks for your help though, I feel better," I whisper and hide it deep in my clothes.

Never give up! Always fight! My parents did give me beautiful words to remember. I miss you, mum and dad!

"New year! Renewed hope," I declare and spin around. "I need to put a smile on your parents' face. They won't want to see their daughter give up so easily".

I skip to the neatly folded dress on my other traveling bag. I had sewn it for today, the beginning of a new me. I need to look good too. It covers all my scars while making me look....

Beau....b...bea....

I let out a sigh.

While making me look not bad!

I get dress and head back to the mirror. With my scars covered, I feel better and smile. Who am I? I'm a twenty-year-old girl, average height with a lean body. I am not slim in a pretty way, I am slim in a hunger-stricken way. But it will change soon. I'll ensure to eat well. In fact, I plan to eat big and have enough to share around the world. Money! That's all I need to achieve this.

I wear a simple rubber sandal to match my floral dress and pack my short afro hair in a bun.

"Now that I am dressed, let us focus on reality," I say and let out  a bitter laughter. "I'm broke".

Do I talk to myself? Yes! I do. I have done it for long and it has become a habit. I have always talked to myself because most times, I am alone. I've been alone for years now.

Back to reality! I am broke. Not as poor as church rats but worst than lab rats. That's how bad it is.

Hungry but filled with willpower, I stroll to my shop. Work goes...empty and I see that I need to walk around to find some food. I may even buy on credit. I have so many debts that it's scary.

Who will buy me food bayi? I wondered as I look around me. The harmattan wind swoops to my side and my nose itches. Surprisingly, not because of the wind but the sweet aroma it blew to me. I smell the sweet, mouthwatering scent of chicken pepper soup. I could have ignored it if only my eyes didn't see it. A canteen across the muddy wide road is bubbling with customers. The workers are all active, rushing here and there.  Every tables have a plate on it, either empty or filled. My stomach betrays me by growling. My mouth backstabs me by salivating and My eyes ignores my appeal by staring.

I am brought to reality when muds come with a big splash on me. Eyes wider than a saucepan, I stand ramrod straight as cold sips into me. The mud slowly rolls down my dress and my eyes glides to the car that had raced past me. It comes to a stop and is parked. I glare at its muddy tyres and black sleek, shining body.

The door at the driver's side opens. A head pops out, a toned, muscular body in royal blue suit follows and then, neat pair of dark brown leather shoes kiss the mud. The young man stands with a charming air of confidence and elegance.

My first thought is to turn around and forget about the mud on me. Then, my daring side says I should force an apology from him. However, my imaginative side that has been fueled by a lot of fictional stories says I should rub some mud on him. Maybe he might fall for my confidence.

Who should I follow?

When I look at my dress, my daring side explodes and I storm to him.

"Excuse me sir!" I say.

He looks rich. Let me just add 'sir' to prevent danger.

He tilts his head to my side a little but keeps his eyes on a building. That's when I spot his pair of shades.

"I see!" I voice. "You were wearing shades while driving, right? What's wrong with you? Look at how you poured mud on me. This is wrong and I need to point that out to you".

He finally turns his head and full body to me.

"Yes?" he asks and with his index finger, lowers his shades.

"Are you blind? You poured mud on me," I snap, slowly losing my cool.

"Am I the cause of the bad road?"

I gasp.

He adjusts his dark shades, shrugs and shoves his hands into his trouser pockets.

"How rude!" I mumble.

"I'm not rude. I state facts," he points out.

"You are rude!" I yell. "You can't even apologize".

"You want to see rude?"

I send an piercing glare at him.

"Shut up and go wash your clothes!" he adds.

The skin on my forehead folds as my face hardens. "I feel tempted to do something but I won't. I know that while some people wish to change this new year, some love their bad attitudes!"

I turn my gaze at the mud around me and hiss. I can't and shouldn't rub mud on his expensive suit. I have a lot of debts. I don't want wahala. I just don't want trouble.

I hiss again and start to walk away.

"Wait!" he calls out.

I pause and hesitate to turn.

"Let me apologize properly!" he says.

I cock my head and raise my eyebrow at him. He nods with a weird smile. I don't even know how to categorize it.

I sigh and take some few steps to him.

"I know what people like you want. I know your form of apology," he says with disgust. He put his fingers into the pocket at his jacket and pulls his wallet out. "Shameless!"

I want to yell and tell him I don't need his stupid money. However, I am broke. I repeat BROKE. My account is drier than any desert on earth.

He counts three thousand naira and wiggles it in the air.

"I don't need your money. Just a sincere apology," I say in a weak voice. What money can do!

"Oh really? The money ain't enough?" he scoffs. He adds two thousand naira to it, making it a sum of five thousand. "Take your stupid dress to be dry cleaned and use the remaining money to wipe your tears. Goodbye!"

I suck in a long breath and watch as he lets the money fall to the ground. He steps on them and says, "Pick it! Shameless".

"Apart from the fact that you are rude, you are heartless" I say and bend down close to his feet to pick them. I force back the tears that threaten to fall.

"You ingrate! I even gave you money to wipe your tears," he snorts.

I clench the money in my hands and grit my teeth.

His gaze meets mine and our eyes lock. I glare while he stares with this disinterested look. Seeing that he has destroyed my pride and made me pick muddy naira notes, I gather the little pride that remains and stomp away.

I hear his mock laughter as I create large distance between us.

I have no shame! I accept it. I need to survive. Why was I left alone in this wild and greedy world?

I cross to the next side of the road and wipe my tears. I can't let one silly man to spoil my mood. I just got free money now. Time to go to the cube, change to a new dress and buy food to eat.

I must survive. I must find happiness.

A/N: Tell me the truth and nothing but the truth. Did you notice I switched to present tense? Was it jarring? Am I trying in my use of present tense? This is my first book in present tense. Please correct me. I want to learn more about writing in present tense.