Unbroken
Bantu, Grace As I peered out from our bedroom window, I saw the machete. My mother was cowering like a startled gazelle and fear emanated from every fibre of her being. My father's face was twisted in pure, unadulterated hatred. His chest rose rapidly as he wielded the offending weapon inches from my mother's back. My heart raced, I was immobilised to do anything but watch helplessly.Not far away, my stepmother, the third wife, stood with a satisfactory lo...