25

Time stood still as Miss Souza smiled gently, kindly, and the similarity was gone. Except her eyes were still that vibrant, beautiful blue. Just like Chloe's mother's.

"I hate to interrupt but I heard about what happened in court and I just had to see if you were okay," the woman said, softly, brushing a curl away from her heart shaped face.

Chloe couldn't tear her eyes away from the bruise or the black eye.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked, sitting up as he looked at the woman's face in alarm, noticing the injuries as if for the first time.

A sadness filled her eyes as she shook her head and laughed but it was a sound with humor, dry and short, like she was laughing but unable to really enjoy the joke. "I'm quite alright, Mr. Saunders," she said, patting a hand against her thigh.

Chloe's mother used to pat her thigh like that when she was nervous or lying.

"I better go. I hope you feel better," the brown-haired beauty murmured before she turned and glided away, her curls bouncing.

Chloe thought she saw a glimpse of blonde hair under the brown.

When the door swung shut, Aunt Lauren turned to them with pursed lips and demanded, "Well, who told her?"

Jennifer sighed heavily as she dragged herself up to the run-down apartment that Zachary was renting. Her cheek throbbed and her throat clenched at the idea of getting choked out again. Her hands shook as she unlocked the front door to hear Zachary yelling into his mobile blackberry. A blast of cool AC pushed back her hair, and she let the wig slip off.

As she walked down the long hallway that led to his den, she dug the bobby pins out of her hair and massaged the sore spots.

"What do you mean?" Zachary demanded into the phone as he came tearing down the hallway, coming straight at her.

She didn't even have any time to throw her hands up but all he did was give her a dark look and stalked out the front door.

"I need it, you crazy, motherfucking..." His screaming faded into the distance, along with his footsteps.

Jennifer rolled her eyes at his ranting and headed for her dingy, closet-sized room. Up the stairs, passed his room and the countless rooms he'd rented out to people, who liked to shoot up and have sex and drink. She kicked off her shoes, unlocked her bedroom door, and headed inside. Once the door closed, she locked it.

As she undressed, someone knocked on the door. She pulled on an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans and opened the door.

One of the other tenants, a black woman wearing a ripped skirt, stood outside, hugging a three-month-old to her chest.

Her teenage daughter scowled at Jennifer. "Mom, Royce is waiting for me," she said and flicked her hair, which hung like a velvety rope down her back, over her shoulder, her hoop earrings bouncing.

Jacinda frowned, bouncing Martin on her chest. "Be home by eight-thirty, Rachelle," she muttered, turning her head away from her daughter, which showcased a huge bruise across her temple and cheek area.

"I told you, call me Rae," Rachelle complained as she pulled on some heels on the way down the hallway. Some of the doors were open, and as she passed, several people catcalled and whooped at her.

Rachelle's mother closed her eyes and bowed her head, pressing her cracked mouth against Martin's downy-haired head. Down the way, a door slammed. Asmondai, her boyfriend, was screaming his head off for her. "Take him, please," she begged and shoved the baby at Jennifer.

"Of course," Jennifer answered and something crashed and shattered.

Jacinda shook visibly, her eyes wide.

"Are you sure you don't want me to-" Jennifer began, letting Martin play with her hair.

"Jacinda, where are you?" Asmondai yelled.

Jennifer sat Martin down on the bed and peered out.

The woman turned and ran down the hall, back to her room. "H-here. I was ch-checking up with Mr. Cain," she said meekly, her head lowered.

"What were you doing with him? Were you fucking him? Huh? Do you think I'm blind?" he roared and shoved her into the wall across from him.

The blond woman closed the door quietly and made her silent way down. In her room, muffled, came Martin's faint cries. "Hey! Asmondai, fuck off!" she yelled.

Jacinda lay crying on the floor, curled up in a ball.

Asmondai was above her, his hair hanging around his angular face. "What the fuck you say?" he snarled at Jennifer.

"I said fuck off." Before she "died", she would've been horrified at such profanity, but a few years of suffering at Zachary's hands had taught her to forgo several things. Manners meant people walked all over you. Manners didn't asshole boyfriends from beating the shit out of you.

He lunged at her and, as soon as his hands touched her shoulders, ready to push her over, she brought her knee up and hit him square in the family jewels.

"Don't fucking touch me," she spat and, as he fell, she let her knee smash into his face. Blood ran down his face, a constant stream that fell from his broken nose. She kicked him, hard, right in the ribs and something cracked. "Don't touch her."

"Jennifer!" Zachary bellowed and she froze, wide-eyed.

Jacinda pulled herself to her feet and leaned against the wall, crying hysterically. Martin's wailing became even louder and she got to her feet to take care of him.

"Come see me. Now. And you, don't go antagonizing my girl. Next time, you'll be in body bags," Zachary threatened calmly from the end of the hallway.

"This is some-" Asmondai grumbled from his spot on the floor, wiping the blood across his arm.

"One more word, Mr. Asmondai, and you won't be living here any longer," the dark-haired man said flatly. "Jennifer." He crooked a finger at her. "Now. Right now."

Jennifer fixed her shirt and sighed heavily.

"Thank you." Jacinda's whisper followed her down the stairs.