In the house, questions were taken as disrespect. Curfews were strict, phones were checked, and every movement required permission. “I carried you for nine months,” the parent would say whenever the child asked for space. Fear of the streets, bad friends, and family shame guided every rule. Church, school, and home formed a tight circle with no room to breathe.

Neighbours praised the parent for being “serious,” while the child was called quiet and well-behaved. Inside, however, the child was anxious—afraid to speak, afraid to choose, afraid to fail. Decisions were always corrected before they were completed. Even simple desires were questioned.

The child obeyed, not out of rebellion, but exhaustion. Love was present, shown in food, shelter, and prayers. But it came with constant supervision and warning. Slowly, the child learned how to survive the house—how to hide thoughts, suppress dreams, and wait. Wait for freedom that never came, only permission that arrived too late.