August 25th 2014
Dallas, Texas
9:45pm"So you just gone choose this bitch over me?" Amina yelled, her eyes were full of tears that cascaded down her face and made her vision blurry. She honestly couldn't tell what she was packing, she was just throwing clothes into the Victoria secret PINK duffle bag she'd gotten a few Christmases ago. Her adrenaline was rushing, so although she'd been fighting for hours, her body didn't feel it. "I'm your daughter! Your blood!" She vexed as her hand hit her chest, her father Darius,stood there with a backwood hanging out of his mouth.
"You got an attitude just like yo mama Mina—you gotta go, you should've never put yo hands on an adult." Darius spoke, with no remorse. Suddenly the adult in question—Angelique appeared behind Darius, she wrapped her arms around him as a smile appeared on her face. Angie reminded Amina a lot of Lela Rechon in waiting to exhale—only looks wise though, Lela was poise and gracious. Angie was an old ass weirdo.
Amina was only 17 years old, the closest heartbreak she could compare to this was her mother's passing when she was 11 years old. Her father was sending her out on the streets for a woman. Amina was a baby, still in high school—she didn't even have a driver's license, only a permit. To make matters worse, she had school in exactly 11 hours. Amina threw the last article clothing into the bag before zipping it up and throwing it over her shoulder.
"You're smart..you'll figure it out." Angie voiced, Amina shot her step mother a look that could kill. "Fuck you." Amina spoke, she no longer had an ounce of respect for Angie or her father. Darius was housing Angie's kids who weren't blood to him, but kicking out his only biological daughter.
"Fuck you too lil girl—hurry up and get yo ass out my shit." Darius fussed, pointing toward the front door of the one story house. "Do what ya daddy say." Angie butted in with a smirk on her face.
"Both of y'all stop fuckin talking to me, she a loser and you dope dealing weirdo." Amina vexed before heading out with nothing to her name but the duffel bag. She sat the bag in the backseat of her of her best friend's Chevy impala before hopping in the front seat. Victoria secret's love spell was pungent through the car, probably because it was her best friend's favorite body spray. Along with the smell of Outre's purple pack, since her best friend's hair was freshly done. She was sporting a quick weave with minimal leave out.
"You good girl?" Her best friend, Niecey questioned as she pulled off. Amina shrugged in response, not to be rude but she was numb and her mind was all over the place. I Luv this shit by August Alsina began to play from the aux cord connected to Niecey's phone before she pulled off.
Thankfully, Niecey's mom—Miss Tasha was allowing Amina to stay with them. After hearing what happened Tasha quickly opened her home up to Amina and assured her that if she needed anything, she'd be there. Miss Tasha was gone a lot of the time, at night mostly because she was an exotic dancer. She danced at Dallas Cabaret, a popular club in the city. Niecey was an only child, just like Amina, so once Tasha left it would only be them in the house. The girls would spend their time going out, getting into shit they had no business doing. Some nights they'd chill in the house, scrolling through tumblr while simultaneously enjoying each other's company.
Tasha never cooked, so she'd leave them cash and let them decide what they wanted. Amina could always tell when she had a good night at the club, because she would leave $300 and suggest they get fine dining instead of fast food.
Amina ended up staying with her best friend during the beginning of their senior year, she'd always been good at taking hints so overhearing Tasha ask her daughter "So when you think yo lil friend gone find her way out my shit?" Or Tasha asking Amina "So what's your plan?" Made her uncomfortable. Once Amina turned 18, It was no secret that Tasha wanted her out of her house.
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PARADOX
RomanceAt 17 years old Amina faced a tragedy that changed the outlook of her life forever, or maybe so what she thought was forever. 8 years later the outlook is challenged by a walking paradox.