Prologue
Ten YearsAgo
Alayah Chambers (Age Seventeen)
“Alayah! Get your ass down here right now!”
I sighed heavily at the sound of my mother shouting my name. She was always yelling at me about something. No matter what went wrong, I somehow ended up wearing the blame for it. Closing my calculus book, I stood from my desk and left my bedroom. Before going downstairs, I stopped to check on my little sisters, Adrienne who was seven and Amiyah who was five. They were fast asleep in their bunk beds.
My little sisters were my heart. If nobody else in this house loved me, they did. I’d practically been their second mom since the day they both came home from the hospital. For those girls, I’d give my life. They had no idea the shit I endured to protect them.
“Alayah!” my mother screamed.
I quickly closed their door and headed downstairs. I found her walking around in her work uniform and smoking a cigarette.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You didn’t hear me calling you?”
“I was coming. I was just doing my homework.”
“Whatever. Why does this house look like this?” She waved her hands around for emphasis. “You forgot you have chores?”
“I didn’t forget. I had to help Adrienne and Miyah with their homework, then I had to cook dinner. After we ate, I got them ready for bed so I could do my homework. I—”
“All I’m hearing are excuses. I don’t work like a dog so you can lay around doing nothing.”
I relaxed my face so the frown I felt forming didn’t show. I’d hardly call my household contributions nothing. My mother worked as a CNA during the day and when she wasn’t working a double shift, she was a bartender at night. At home, I was the cook, the maid, the babysitter, and more often than not, a punching bag. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I nodded.
“I’m sorry. I’ll clean after I finish studying for my exam.”
“No, you’ll clean now. I have to go to work. Rodney will be here in a little bit, and I don’t want him coming home to a dirty house.”
I swallowed hard. I hated Rodney. He was the scum of the earth, yet she worshiped the grass that grew from the ground he walked on. I never understood why, though. He came from money, yet she was still working two jobs to support us. He threw her a few dollars here and there or paid a bill or two every so often. Maybe it was the material things he showered her with. Whatever it was, in her eyes, he could do no wrong.
I decided to appease her. The quicker I cleaned the house, the quicker I could get back to my room and avoid that bastard.
She snapped her fingers in my face. “Don’t just stand there. Get to cleaning.”
She grabbed her bag and headed out the front door. I sighed as I grabbed the basket designated for the girls’ toys and began picking everything up. An hour later, the living room was spotless, and so was the rest of the downstairs area. I looked at the clock to see that it was almost nine. I trekked back upstairs and decided to shower so it would be one less thing I had to do when I was done studying.
Grabbing my pajamas and underclothes, I headed into the hall bathroom. Thirty minutes later, I was out of the shower. After moisturizing my skin, I slipped into my clothes and left the bathroom. I placed my school clothes in the hamper in the laundry room, then headed back to my room. As I neared it, I noticed that the door was slightly ajar. I swallowed hard as I approached it. Gently pushing it open, I found Rodney sitting on my bed. He gave that same terrifying smile that always caused me to tremble in fear every time I was alone with him.
“Close the door, and bring your pretty self here,” he said.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t do this again. I’d been dealing with him coming into my room for three years now. My mother had been with him for five years, and from the moment I met him, he gave me creep vibes. It started with the way he showed me affection. He always wanted to give me a kiss on the cheek or a hug. His hugs were accompanied with compliments of how pretty I was or how I looked just like my mama.
He graduated to making me sit on his lap when she wasn’t around. I tried to protest, but he’d always grab me and force me. I’d sit there with tears streaming down my face as he stroked my hair and smelled me.
“You’re filling out realnice.”
“You’re gonna be as thick as your mama.”
“You better not be out here giving these young boysa taste of you.”
At one point, he started whispering dirty things in my ear as he touched me and himself. I tried to tell my mother he made me uncomfortable. I tried to tell her what he was doing, but she always cut me off. I remembered the first time he came into my room.
