Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
___________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
I hate going to this man's house. Ain't no peace here, just Bible verses and bullshit. This dude got the whole church thinking he's Saint Jeremiah, but behind closed doors, he's nothing but a controlling ass hypocrite. A rapist, too. Yeah, My dad's a rapist. And his wife? She's just as fake as him. The next time that lady says something slick, I swear on my granny, I'm bombing on her.
"NALANI!" my dad's voice boomed from downstairs, cutting through my thoughts.
Damn, what now? I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my brain.
Dragging myself out of the room, I walked to the top of the stairs. "What?"
"Come down here. And what did I tell you about saying 'what' to me?"
I squinted at him. Like I remember or care what he told me. I don't listen to this man. And I dare him to put his hands on me. I'll fuck this whole house up.
I stomped down the stairs, my face already in full mug mode. When I hit the bottom, I saw him and his wife sitting at the kitchen table, a Bible smack dab in the middle like it was a weapon. What in the holy intervention was this?
"Sit down. And give me your phone," his wife said, her face all screwed up like I owed her something.
I sat down slowly, folding my arms over my chest. She was trippin' if she thought I was handing over my phone.
"I'm gonna ask you this one time, Nalani," my dad started, his fingers laced together like he was trying to look all wise and shit. "And you better not lie to me."
I leaned back in the chair, confused as hell. "Okay...?"
"Are you in a relationship with a girl?"
Oh. So, this what we on?
"Yes," I said plainly, watching as their faces twisted like they just smelled burnt eggs.
"Does your mother know this?" His tone got all tight, like he was trying to keep his anger from spilling over.
"Yeah."
"She allows this? Your mother knows you're selling your soul to the devil and does nothing?" he said, his voice rising like he was at the pulpit.
