7 Signs

Chapter 2

Two years later.

Latavia sat perched on the edge of her bed, her fingers dancing across her phone's screen as she engaged in a lively conversation with her best friend, Brook. The anticipation of her upcoming birthday celebration filled the digital exchange.

Brook (Text Message):
'You ready, bitch! We're about to turn up for your birthday! I'm gonna get you boo'd up tonight!'

Latavia (Text Message):
'Girl, please tell me you're not talking about one of Derek's corny friends.'

Brook (Text Message):
'They're not that bad!' (laughing emoji)

Latavia (Text Message):
(vomit emoji)

Brook (Text Message):
(multiple laughing emojis)

Latavia (Text Message):
'I'm ready. What's your ETA?'

Brook (Text Message):
'Outside, bitch!!!'

Latavia (Text Message):
'You're a mess!! (laugh emoji) On my way.'

Latavia jumped up from her bed and took one last look at herself in the mirror. In her fitted black distressed jeans and Lacey top that accented her Cocoa Brown skin she was prepared to celebrate with her best friends. She gave her hair a quick once over with her hands to make sure every strand was in place before she grabbed her jacket and made her way out of her bedroom, descending the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs she passed the calendar hanging in the hall displaying the date, Saturday, November 13th 2023.

Latavia entered the kitchen, finding her mother, Felicia, standing at the counter, vigorously mixing something in a bowl. Her stepfather, Mark, sat at the kitchen table, dreads falling into his face, focused on his laptop. The television played in the background, displaying a news anchor concluding a segment.

News Anchor:
"With the recent discovery of a fourth victim, the police continue to urge citizens to adhere to the set curfew, travel in groups, and remain vigilant of their surroundings...."

Felicia glanced over to Mark, clearly disturbed by the report.

"Babe, please turn that off. There's enough bad news in the world. We don't need more reasons to worry tonight." Gesturing with a flour sprinkled hand in the direction of the television.

Mark, using the remote, clicked off the television.

"It's sad... I can't imagine what that young girl who was killed parents must be going through." He turned his hazel eyes back to her, shaking his head with dismay.

"I know... I'm starting to have second thoughts about this..." She started before noticing her daughter in the entryway.

Latavia stepped further into the kitchen, interrupting her mother.

"Second thoughts about what?" She asked with a raise eyebrow.

Felicia repeated teasingly, "Second thoughts about what?"

Latavia rolled her eyes with faux annoyance.

"Real mature, Mom. Anyway... something smells great." She dipped her finger into the bowl, attempting to taste the mixture before her mother swatted her away.

'Hey now! No free samples. All of this is for your special birthday dinner. I'm making all your favorites." She shook her mixing spoon scoldingly at her daughter.

Latavia pouted. "Aww, Mom, Brook is outside. She was planning to take me out for my birthday. I had no idea you were cooking. I'll tell her I can't go."

Mark intervened, getting up and crossing the kitchen to stand between his wife and daughter. At an impressive 6'3 with an athletic build he towered over both their five five and five two slender frames. Latavia was only slightly taller than her mother, with a sleeve build, her mother carried the hips and curves of a mature and experienced woman.