Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Litter lines this street like sand lines a beach. I step over broken glass and rush up the stairs as the men cat call and make lude comments. Don’t they know how fucking uncomfortable and scary that is?
“Apartment two-A,” I whisper to myself and head up the piss stained stairs. It’s so gross here.
I use my elbow to push open a door that leads to the few apartments on this floor, and quickly rush to the apartment I need. It’s crazy thinking this could be my life now, that I might live here and have to deal with this every day. Would I get used to it?
I rap on the wood over and over again. “Please open. Please. Please. Please.”
My heart is racing, my palms are clammy. I just need to be inside somewhere so I feel safe.
I knock louder, more frantic, until finally I hear my mom yell, “WHO THE FUCK IS IT?”
“It’s me… it’s Imogen.”
“What in the world?” Latches unclick, a chain drops, and the door opens a crack.
My mom’s hazel eye peers out into the hall and widens when she sees me.
“Immy, what are you doing here? Is your mee-maw with you cause I ain’t done no cleanin’?”
“No, it’s just me,” I reply, smiling at her. “I just really needed to get away.”
“Well then you better come in.” She steps back, still peering into the hall as I sidle past and take in her tiny studio apartment.
It’s not messy or unclean, but there are dishes in the sink and a pile of laundry that needs dealing with. There’s only one bed but I don’t mind sharing.
“Does Mom know you’re here?” she asks, locking the door and guiding me to the small two-seater table. It has a wilting flower in a little glass jar in the middle.
“No. I ran away,” I admit, biting my lip. “I can’t take it there anymore.”
“Oh it’s not that bad.”
I look at her incredulously. “Mom it’s hell. Can I stay with you? I’ll go to school here. I’ll get a job. You wouldn’t have to provide for me.”
“Honey—”
“Please, Mom, please. I can’t live there anymore.”
“What about your brother? Don’t you want to be near him?”
I shrug. “He’s never home. He has a girlfriend now.”
She nods gently. “Do you want a drink?”
“Can I have a water please?” I sit as she moves to the kitchen and rinses out a glass. “Can I stay? Please?”
“Honey—”
“Stop saying it like that. You’re my mom. Why would you have me if you don’t want me around?”
Her eyes round with sadness. “That’s not it. I do want you around but look where I live! There isn’t enough space for me, let alone you too. And it’s rough round here. I don’t know about the schools either. There was a random shooting on the next block.” She hands me my water and continues, “Where you’re living now is safe, and cozy, and comforting.”
“That’s why you stayed?” I snap, feeling bitter that she’s not immediately excited to have me around. “Mee-maw is awful, Mom. She beats me, sometimes she starves me, she doesn’t let me go anywhere or do anything.”
“It’s only for a few more years and then you’ll be out on your own in the world. There are worst places to live.”
Wow, is that really the response that a mother should have when her daughter tells her she’s being beaten? Is that normal?
I glower at her. “You’re not gonna let me stay, are you?”
“You can stay tonight, but tomorrow you have to go back. There’s no space for you here.”
Standing, I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms and clench my hands into fists. “You’re a shit mom. I wish God never gave me to you!”
“Honey—”
I pick up her vase and throw it across the room. “DON’T CALL ME HONEY!”
“You’re being unreasonable.” She looks at the broken glass on the floor and the watermark on the crappy beige wall.
I move towards the door, angry and spiteful and delicate.
“I hate you,” I hiss at her and stomp out the way I came.
“Imogen,” she calls after me but she doesn’t follow.
“YOU STUPID, STUPID GIRL!” Grandpa booms at me, his face red. “Do you have any idea how worried we were?”
“And how much shame you’ve brought upon us with your actions!” Mee-maw sniffs dramatically and dabs under her eyes with an embroidered hanky. “After the last time you broke curfew, you’d think you’d have learned but clearly you have your mother’s poison in your veins.”
She looks at my grandpa who nods.
“We called the police, we were worried. We had everyone out looking for you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whimper. “I’m sorry I wasted everyone’s time and upset you and scared you. I’m just so tired of being trapped here in this perfect image. I just want to have fun.”
“FUN IS PARTICIPATING IN A BAKESALE NOT DRINKING AND FROLICKING WITH BOYS!” Mee-maw yells so loud her voice sounds demonic. Grandpa starts to undo his belt. “You have humiliated us after all we have done for you and your brother and this is how you treat us?”