Savage Black was born and raised in Harlem, New York for half her life. After her father passes away from Parkinson's Disease, two months later her mother loses her job. Now at the age 21 struggling to make ends meet, Savage tries to make her dreams...
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Savage__
After taking out the trash, I lounged around a bit just because my mother woke up at 7:30. I should be use to it because my body gets up around the crack of the dawn each morning. Thanks to works. But on my days off, my body knows to rest. Seeing that I couldn't go back to sleep, I looked at the time seeing it's only been thirty minutes that has passed. When you're doing nothing it's feels like hours.
I sit up from my mattress, sighing at the quietness that decorates the house. Usually on my days off, it's me and my father. Today it's just myself. I slip my feet in my sandals, exiting my room as my breath shook. I haven't been in the room since last night when I got the news. I walk down the creaking steps, hitting the landing at the bottom. I slowly approach the room that my mother closed off last night.
When I open the door, I furrow my eyebrows to the empty room. The hospital bed, dressers, metals, badges, awards and my father's knickknacks are all gone. Then I remembered the rustling I heard last night. I remember my mother crying hard and hearing things being moved around, but I didn't get up to see what she was doing. I was too hurt to even step back down the steps. She didn't even give his death a week before throwing things away. Then it hit me...
"The trash!" I run to the back door, taking off the locks. As I step out to the icy steps, I grab to the snow covered banister praying I don't fall and bust my ass. I come across the pavement, taking the top off the garbage can. I look through the black bag, hoping I find an award or something. But nothing.
"You better get in that house girl, out here in the cold with your arms and legs out. You'll catch pneumonia." My nosey neighbor Ms. Stocks says. I sigh heavily, putting the lid back on the can. Ms. Stocks is outside 24/7 rain, sleet, sunshine or snow. She knows what's going on when it happens and what's going to happen. A creepy old lady if you ask me.
"Hi Ms. Stocks." I dryly greet.
"Hey baby. Merry Christmas. Well, I hope you have you have a merry one. I'm sorry about your father. He was a good man lord knows." She assures. I nod, making my way up the slippery steps.
"Thanks. And I know." I mumble lowly. I slam the door, sliding down it as I sob in tears. Why would my mother throw everything my father owned away? She could of at least let me take what I wanted, and threw whatever else away. I collect myself, going to the sink in the kitchen. I wash my hands with layers of soap and Clorox. After drying my hands, I retrieve my phone from my pocket. I unlock it, calling my mother as I pace the floor. She answers on the third ring.
"Where is his stuff?" I question angrily.
"Excuse me?" My mother questions for me to repeat in settle tone. I flop down in a chair, sighing heavily as I wipe my tears.
"Where is daddy's thing mama? I came downstairs and they're no longer in the room he was in." I croak. My mother sighs over into receiver, I hear the seatbelt warning sign go off in the background.
