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JAIYA MORANT POV
SOUTH SIDE, BRONX;; SATURDAY, 7:15 A.M.
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror.
My hair is pulled back into a ponytail, revealing my puffy eyes. I haven't stopped crying since that night. I took my lashes off and just did simple mascara and eyeliner. My lips have a little gloss on them but other than that, my face is bare.
I feel like, without the makeup, people can see how I truly feel.
That my eyes are red from crying and deep bags are starting to form under my eyes. The black dress my dad bought me covers my arms, stops just above my knees and hugs me a little to reveal the little bit of weight I had lost these past two weeks. I stare at the girl in the mirror with her empty, dark eyes and she stares back at me.
I look exactly how I feel.
Empty.
Two weeks ago, I couldn't stop smiling. It was the night of my eighteenth birthday. My parents have split custody, so I spend the school year in the Bronx with my mom and summer vacation in Jersey with my pops. My pops always made me stay home for birthday and we'd have a small party with family only.
But this year, I couldn't go to Jersey, so I stayed with my mom in the Bronx. She doesn't care what I do. I could've gone out and got into some shit with my friends, but I stayed home anyway and just had a little sleepover with my girls Tay and Alexis. We had just been chilling in my room when my brother called and said he was coming home with my birthday cake. I know at eighteen, I shouldn't care that much but it was more than even my mom had done for me.
My brother always had my back. He always took care of me. At times, he felt more like my parent than my mom. I had gone downstairs that night to meet my brother, not knowing it would be the last time I'd see him.
But that was in July.
Now, it's the first week of August and today is his funeral.
"Jaiya!" I can hear my pops shout. "Are you ready? Hurry up. We need to be there before the service starts."
"Coming!" I yell back.
I look at myself one last time before turning off the bathroom light and heading into my room. I grab my black purse and my phone off my bed, sighing before leaving my room. My family sits divided in the small living room of my mom's apartment. On the couch is my pops wife, Tia, and my stepbrother, Devon, and stepsister, Jasmine. They remind me of robots with how they sit straight up, silently waiting on my pops to tell them what to do next... but I don't blame them.
