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"You may kiss the bride," the pastor declared.

I cringed as she leaned in.

My aunt's dark purple lipstick smeared on my new uncle's lips as she took advantage of the opportunity. Her tight white bodice and long tail was extra gently sewn with lace. Her hair was piled on top of her head in glossy black curls, her light brown highlights hitting the sun every time she moved an inch. My uncle wore a black suit with patterns that mimicked the design of my aunt's lace across his attire. He was short and bald, just the way Aunt Kay liked them.

They were nearly the same smooth brown complexion, and both wore cheesy grins as they started back down the aisle. I sat up front along with the rest of my family there for the bride. My aunt was thick all around, and even at the altar, he couldn't keep his paws off of her as his hand rested on her ass. The event was outside, vines and white/red flowers everywhere along the closed-off beach. A huge black rug is what the chairs sat on for the guests, and the flower children threw their petals one more time as the bride and groom snuck out of our sight, to the beach house on the edge of the water to go change.

I was proud of my aunt, honestly. Ever since I could remember, she was always going on and on about how she needed love in her life. She was one of the only family members that I was really close with because of my father's rather...cold nature towards me and my mother never really being mentally there. The guests stood and the event planner ushered everyone back to the parking lot a few feet away. The reception hall was down the street, like many things are here in Camphor.

Nestled right near Corpus Christi and Galveston, Camphor never had the chance to be anything but a beach city. If Houston was like a distant relative, then a person could only describe my city as close family. Everybody in Camphor knew each other, one way or another. You would think with a city like that you would know everyone's secrets.

I glanced over at my father. "Are we going to the reception hall?" I stood up in my crimson red suit, adjusting my black tie. Those were the chosen colors of the wedding.

"I need to get back to da House. You can stay with your mother," he pulled out his new iPhone, fixing his shades over his face.

"She isn't feeling well, I thought you would take her home first," I frowned.

"She'll be alright," my father snapped, annoyed.

"Nyia," my mother mumbled, still sitting down in a loose fitting black and red dress, black shades over eyes that knew were tinged slightly yellow.

"She's feeling sick. Work ain't calling you like that," I argued. "There's like twenty other people beneath you who run shit."

"If you want her to go home, take her yourself," he snapped back, "She's your mother, not my wife."

I hate that I hadn't been born in the time that love shone in his eyes for this woman. Instead, I got to see him treat her exactly like her family did growing up. Sometimes, he'd even act the same way to me.

"Asshole," I murmured, moving around him in his black suit and red tie to go to my Mom. At the time, I thought it was cute how we had inverted our suit styles. Now I felt like a fool being similar to him in any way possible. Being in his presence was tiring.

"What you say?" he grabbed me by the arm, not holding back an ounce of his strength.

Tears prickled in my eyes, and I wished he couldn't see them. Wished that I had pulled down the sunglasses on my head. "I'm sorry," I whispered, looking around frantically to see if anyone had noticed.

Not like they'd stand up to the Big Camphor.

"Mhm," he let me go, fixing at his suit like I had touched him or some shit. Phillip Kelley was shorter than me, but what he lacked in height he made up in muscles that were covered with all types of obscene tattoos. "Yo, nigga," he answered his phone conveniently, walking away from us.

My mother tenderly touched my arm and I helped her stand. I couldn't give her anything but my help. Not money, not clothes, not food. Everything concerning her was provided by a man who could care less for her.

"I'm going to take you home, okay?" I told her gently, holding her purse for her.

"It's fine. I can catch a ride with someone. I want you to be here for Kay. Because I can't be," she mumbled.

"Mom, don't worry bout that," I rubbed her back.

"I'm never getting outta this life, but at least you have it better than me," she gave me a small smile.

Because my father refuses to let her go, no matter how much he hates her. He'll just keep breaking and breaking her until...

"I'll send for someone to come pick you up, don't worry about finding a ride," I told her, blinking back fresh tears.

Until she shatters.

"Wish Kay the best for me," she said.

"I will," I nodded.

I called for somebody to take my mother to my father's mansion, or as most call it, "da House", leaving the parking lot with too much on my mind.

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