Prologue

Understand this: I'm grown—no doubt about it. I've been grown since last year, once I realized that the bruises on my mother's face were not from her walking into doors from being clumsy, but were instead courtesy of my dad's left hook.

I knew I couldn't open my mouth, I wasn't stupid. But my mother, she couldn't seem to keep her mouth shut. If she would just be quiet and keep her mouth closed, maybe daddy wouldn't get so upset and lash out on her. I don't know, maybe I just don't understand.

I'm twelve, after all.

But it always feels like I'm the head of the house, taking care of my little sister Clare, and my little brother Corrie, while our parents had it out. But I ain't out here worryin'. Shit, I know right from wrong. Beating on my mother is wrong, and my daddy should know this. But he's always drunk, so you can't tell him nothing.

WHAM.

I held my fearful siblings, turning the stereo up louder to drown out the commotion coming from the living room. I should be scared too, but I'm the big sister, so I protect them. No matter what, I got their backs. That scary man in there wasn't gonna lay a finger on em'. Not on my watch, that is.

BANG.

I sighed, there was no way to keep the thumps and my mother's screams out. I wanted to help her, but what could I do? Last time I tried to help, I almost got my own whooping. That man was crazy. I don't know why my momma put up with his ass. And she always be bombing me about my cussing. My cussing is the least of her problems, real talk.

"Cindy, I'm s-scared," my eight year old sister said, grabbing my hand. I gave her a weak smile.

"It's gonna be alright Clare, they just having a little argument," I lied, trying not to make her so scared. But for real, my sister was tough. Maybe she got that shit from me, no tears. Hey, somebody had to set the example. But times like this, we could only hope. For mom's sake.

"Cindy, that ain't no little argument. Momma out there screamin' and everything," Clare said, shaking her head. I let my smile fade, knowing there was nothing to say.

My brother ten year old brother, Corrie, sat quietly in the corner of my room, his head in his hands. He had a good heart, but to see our mother and father like this, really tore him up on the inside. No, he didn't cry. He just sat there, probably wondering how life got this way.

Outside of home, we went to school regularly. I went to J. Edgar Hoover Middle, while my brother and sister went to the elementary school, just around the corner from one another.

I had friends, believe it or not. Well, more like two..three..four? Sorry, but I was the type of person to keep to myself most of the time. Yeah, whenever I was in public, I would put on a fake smile to make it seem like things were alright. But ya'll know, behind that smile, I was broken. Straight up done.

When my head wasn't in the fucking gutter, I was most likely with my homie, Riley Freeman. Now, that nigga always knew what's good. He was the type of kid to show up, show out, and then bounce. Just my type of friend. And we were close like nobody's business.

He had a brother too, Huey Freeman, but I don't think that nigga likes me much. He always had that preppy little mulatto around him..Jazmine I think. Didn't bother me though. I mean, sometimes I was around him when I was hanging with Riley, but other than that, we weren't nothing but acquaintances.

Then we have my homegirl, Yonnie. She was the real deal. She had my back no matter what, something that few people could do. I knew her since we were six, and ever since then, we were nothing but best friends. She was black, like most of my friends. But no matter, it didn't change a thing. If anything, I think her ghetto ways rubbed off on me and made me tougher.

But don't get it twisted. I didn't tell Riley or Yonnie what I had going on in my house. It didn't concern them, even though I told them everything. I didn't need everybody and their mama knowing all about my business. Naw, that shit wasn't bout to fly with me. So, just like I told my siblings, "Always keep to yourself."

"Cindy," my brother said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Momma called you."

What the hell does she want? I stood up from my bed and walked to the door, opening it slowly and walking out into the living room. There my mother sat on the couch, fresh bruises on her face, though she wore a smile. Most people said we looked alike, I could see the resemblance a little, but not with all them marks on her damn face.

"Yeah, ma?" I said, keeping my eyes on daddy out of the corner of my eye. He sat on the couch, looking drained and exhausted. Like always, he carried a beer bottle. I wouldn't be surprised if that wasn't his first drink of the day. What a drunken loser.

"I need you to take this," she said as she handed me a ten dollar bill. "Take it, head down to the corner store, and buy your poor daddy here a pack of apple juice." I stared at the dollar bill, trying to hide the confused look on my face.

"Apple juice? I said I wanted beer, you slut! Can you not hear?" my daddy yelled at her, throwing his somewhat empty beer bottle at her. I cupped a hand to my mouth as the bottle missed her head by a couple of inches, shattering on the wall behind her. I looked away, not wanting to witness the fearful look on my mother's face.

"But baby, you don't need any more of that stuff-"

I shook my head, widening my eyes. See what I mean? She didn't know how to keep her mouth shut! She be puttin' herself in these situations, I swear.

My father looked at her like she was crazy. "Do I really need to hit you again? In front of our daughter?"

I rolled my eyes at that. I am not his daughter.

My mother's eyes swept to the floor, clenching her jaw as the tears in her eyes threatened to spill over. "No," she said, "You don't need to hit me."

My father laughed at that, throwing his head back as he cackled. "Did I tell you to answer that? No, I don't think I did. And didn't we already have a talk about this? Don't you ever question my drinking. I will drink as much as I want, bitch."

I swallowed hard, crumpling the ten dollar bill in my fist as I tried to restrain myself from lashing out. If I could just give him one punch to the face…maybe a kick to the groin..

"Now hurry along, Cecilia. I don't like to be kept waiting. Take your brother and sister with you, those little brats.." he continued, waving me off. I silently rolled my eyes. This man was supposed to be my dad, yet he didn't even know my real name? And then he gonna diss my brother and sister like that? Okay, see, a nigga gon' die today.

I quickly walked back into my bedroom, motioned for Clare and Corrie to follow me, before we headed out the door. It's sad we have to come home from school every day to this nonsense. But no, don't be feeling sorry for us, because we can hold our own. So, before I tell you my story, know this:

It ain't happy.