No Ordinary Love

Chapter 1: Daddy's Home

PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS THE FIRST DRAFT OF MY STORY. IT HAS NOT BEEN PROFESSIONALLY EDITED OR PROOFREAD.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, are coincidental, with the exception of some cities and some events that may be non fictional.

******NOT EDITED******

***Readers please be aware that this story contains mature content such as Drugs, abuse, sex and explicit language that may be upsetting to some. ***

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Will I survive all the fights and the darkness?

Trouble sparks, they tell me home is where the heart is, Dear Departed.

I shed tattooed tears and couldn't sleep good for multiple years, witnessed peers catch gunshots.

Nobody cares, seen the politician ban us. They'd rather see us locked in chains, please explain why they can't stand us.

Is there a way for me to change? Or am I just a victim of things I did to maintain?

Tupac Shakur

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As soon as she heard the knock at the door, she knew immediately who it was.

Her heart sank even further, moving forward she bites on her lip and quickly notes her surroundings, taking quick careful inventory. When her mother opens the door, she is greeted with a hard slap across the face, and her body slams against the wall.

Fuck me, she curses under her breath as her body automatically turns to defense mode.

Her fathers affection was something that Zayra could never seem to get used to.

When Zayra woke up hours later at the sound of the baby crying, she rubs her eyes, focusing on her surroundings and tried to remember how she got there. The last thing she remembered was her mother leaving to the hospital.

Shaking the cobwebs she stands and goes to pick up the baby. She carries the baby and with expertise, she makes the baby's bottle and begins to feed her the bottle. The baby was getting heavy, she muses, she was almost 6 months old.

Once the baby finishes her bottle Zayra taps her back in steady beats to burp her. Once satisfied she lays her back on the crib and walks toward the living room. There, her younger siblings were occupying their time. Her brother was drawing and her sister was opening a can of corn to add in a pot.

Zayra moves to help her out, knowing that they too were hungry. She tries in vain to turn on the stove when notices that the gas stove wasn't lighting up. Expelling her breath in frustration, she slams the lighter on the stove. Her sisters long face didn't alleviate her anxiety.

No fucking gas no cooking food. She tries not to scream.

So instead she climbs onto the kitchen counters and grabs the tin can where she kept extra money. She jumps off and nimbly and tells her sister and brother that she was going to buy dinner. She then instructs them both to clean up the rest of the mess her father made when he had came in drunk and abusive earlier that day.

She grabs her jacket from the hallway closet, and runs down the four flights of winding stairs in record time. She stops outside to breath in the smog of the city. She pulls her hair up into a high ponytail as she made her way into the streets, on her way to the burger stand.