If you were to look at a map you would find the continent of North America, if you started at the you would find the state of California and then San Bernardino County.
In San Bernardino County you would find Realtown in which the is the Cul-de-sac named Shooter and a small pink house with only one window on the second floor. That’s my room.
My name is Samantha White. Right now I’m laying on my bed. Staring up at the perfect crack in my ceiling listening to my mother get beaten downstairs.
My life may be a giant sack of dysfunction but this crack is perfect. It parts the room exactly in the middle. This crack is my stability, my constant.
Wait, I think it quiet now… yeah I can hear her running the water in her bathroom getting ready to clean herself up. There was a point when I used to try to call the cops.
But, she would just run after me begging me to put the phone down. Now I just stay up here pretending not to exist. At least tomorrow is Monday.
Which means for 6 hours of my day I get to pretend that it’s just me and Trés . His real name is Trévon Wilfred Griffith V.
Apparently at one point his family had a ton of money and a plantation in the South. You wouldn’t guess it from the looks of the room at the crack motel that he shared with his mother.
I guess that’s why we are perfect for each other. Both our mothers are whores, at least his mother is honest about the price. Ugh, I can hear her climbing the steps now.
There she goes again with her annoying sniffle knock routine. I know before she even opens her mouth that she is going to tell me to come downstairs so we can be a together as a “family”.
She looks down at me and I can feel her eyes scrutinizing my get up. She stiffen her lips while she does it. I wonder if she even notices she does it.
I’m not even wearing anything too offensive today. I have my waist long raven hair, that I keep in dreads, up in a ponytail so they’re out of my face.
I wore my make up pretty plain lole she hates though with only eyeliner rimming my eyes. I’m wearing my black Nightmare Before Christmas T.
The one with the sides that I stitched tighter with thick white thread. A red and black plaid mini skirt that goes to my thighs…mostly. Plus fishnets with no holes in them.
Heck, I’d say I’m halfway to being a nun. I finally lift my eyes to meet hers and make an attempt at a smile. “hey Sass, why don’t you come downstairs? We can all watch a movie together.
” she says wringing her hands. “Do I have a choice?” “come on Sassy, Edgar wants to watch a movie. Please don’t be difficult. He had a long day let’s not upset him.
” “If he wants to watch a movie so damn bad why doesn’t he just fu” “Samantha!” She shouts at me cutting me off.
The she softens her face and looks at me so that she almost looks like she did before the bastard.
“Please Sassy…For me?” God! Why does this still work on me? Well fine, but I will do this in silent protest. I get up and follow her down the stairs into the living room.
I plop myself down on our ,once beautiful, now stained and falling apart floral couches. I can tell his eyes traveling up my thighs. “Hey Camille, get your ads over here and sit next to me.
” She brightens at the sound of him using her name and prances over to him. He wraps his arm around her and whistles to get my attention “Hey freak get me a beer from the fridge.” He says.
I look up at my mothers pleading eyes and without arguing rise to go to the kitchen. As I walk past them sitting on the love seat he reaches over and smacks my ass. Now, I know she saw it.
In fact I’m pretty sure his effort jostled her head. Does she say anything? Of course not. I grab a beer from the fridge and put it on the coffee table.
I sit back down and watch Scarface yet again. About half way through the movie I look over to see him pet her on the head like you would a dog.
Yet, she closes her eyes like it’s the sweetest thing ever. She makes me sick. Is that really all it takes for her to forget the fact that he beat the shit out of her just an hour ago.
I get up and start heading for the stairs. “where are you going?” he says. “Bed. Tomorrow’s Monday.” “want me to come tuck you in?” he asks and winks at me with my mother asleep on his lap.
“Go to hell”