Oops.

 Bisi walked down the lonely path. The temperature was a little below twenty degrees, but she didn't mind. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. She wasn't even sure why she was crying. A sly rustle behind her prompted her to increase her pace. She had walked on that path more times than she'd remembered to count, but not at that time of the night. Besides, on most days she was usually asleep by that time. 

But that day was different. She had just left her house after engaging in a boiling altercation with her parents. The third of the day. Clashes like that were becoming more frequent than necessary. Most times she emerged from these unscathed on the outside, but she usually sustained deep and nasty emotional injuries.  

Although she was just nineteen, her anatomy was that of a twenty-five year old. As usual, this did not escape the wanton eyes of several men. Despite this, Bisi still seemed pure and chaste and was a perfect example of a modest lady. On the outside that is, because she wouldn't dare do otherwise when she was still under her parent's care.

As Bisi thought of her parents she scoffed. If only the really knew her. But they didn't. And until recently, they believed she was still naive. In fact, most people did. If you were to see her in the long and flowing skirts she always wore, and was presently wearing, you would mistake her for a nun. Also, the large and almost oversized blouses she was known for, shielded her larger-than-average bosom from the view of the public. 

However over the years, especially after she got into the University, the sizes of her clothing had trimmed down significantly. As expected, most of her clothes were purchased for her by her parents and even the ones she bought herself had to be approved first before she could wear them. This of course did not prevent her from adjusting the clothes afterwards.

And that day, her father had noticed that the neckline of her shirt was two inches lower than it usually was, suggesting that she'd tampered with it, and he had told her. When she'd tried to deny, he took it personal. Hence the beginning of the conflict that evening. Her father in his usual manner, had besieged her with his armory of malignant words until she could no longer bear the onslaught and stormed out of the house.  She was completely heartbroken that her mother, who was standing near the door, made no attempt to stop her. 

So she left, with no destination in mind. Surrendering control totally to her feet, trusting them to take her miles away from the house. Because that was the only way she could keep her mental health intact.