Time passed, and the beatings became normal.  

She would find reasons—small ones, big ones, or sometimes, no reason at all to maltreat Mark.

If she woke up feeling angry, Mark suffered. If she saw other children playing, Mark suffered. If she felt frustrated about her own life, Mark suffered.  

Each time, he told himself not to cry. Each time, he buried the pain deeper, letting it settle somewhere inside him where no one could see it.  

He never complained. Never fought back. Never asked why.  

Madam Eno never needed a reason. She did not see him as a person—she saw him as a burden, an accident, something she had been forced to care for against her will.  

The house became suffocating. Mark moved carefully, spoke only when necessary, avoided attention. He learned that if he was quiet enough, if he walked lightly, if he disappeared into the background, she would forget to notice him. And in that silence, he found survival.   

School was the only place that offered relief. There, he was just another student.  

He could breathe. His teachers noticed his intelligence. He rarely spoke in class, but when he did, his words carried meaning beyond his years. He realized something important—knowledge was power. It was the only thing that could save him.  

The dream of university formed in his mind, but he knew Madam Eno would never allow it. She had already started mentioning that when he finished secondary school, he would find work instead of furthering his education.  

But Mark had learned the art of hiding things. He had hidden his pain, his anger. And now, he hid his dream.  

He began secretly saving money—small amounts, gathered from doing odd jobs, carrying loads for people in the market, cleaning, fetching water, because Madam Eno didn’t allow him anywhere near his father’s businesses.

She would say, “Go out and find any work to do, because you have nothing to get from the business”

He was only thirteen years old when he started odd jobs, he hid his money in an old box under his bed, counting it quietly at night, feeling a spark of hope each time he added more.  

He did not know how long it would take, but he made up his mind that he would escape one day.  

He would leave this house.  

He would build his future.  

And no one, not even Madam Eno, would be able to stop him.