Summers on Friendship Lane

Geneva

My bags practically cracked the floor, and my palms bore the sweat that slipped the straps from my hands. Looking around the pristine room swallowed with white paint, furniture, and accent pieces.

"Just as I left it..." my thoughts spoke louder than I ever would in this house.

There was never a fear like being in Wickatunk. Never a fear like waking up hours before your body wants, and spot cleaning. Never a fear like watching the news because anything else could be deemed brain draining and disconnected from life. Never a fear like obsessing over what I even think to speak about the smallest things simply from experience. Experiencing my father's hypersensitivity. His psychosis. His anger and rage and lack of thought before action. There was never a fear like being in his presence. And every summer in Wickatunk. On friendship Lane. Was a summer full of unmet fear. 104 days of more fear than the last bit. 104 days of wanting to die, and being too stressed to carry it out. 104 "it'll be okay soon." 's and "next year it'll be different." 's. 104 days of wishing he would die before my stress led me to handle that yourself.

I had no friends. Not that I was a loner. I was just lonely. Sucks to think that even my social status had nothing to show that I was in control. Thinking one day . One day I'd be in control of my life. Never did I think it would be that summer.

Youthful laughter and conversation boomed through my bedroom window. Beckoning. Dragging me unwillingly to the ledge. A smile painted my face as I watched children my age or slightly older prowling the street, fun filled and joyous like a pack of the bravest animals known to man. I was in love with the sight. The freedom.

"Geneva." My fathers deep, grumbling voice carried it's way through the house, detaching me from my daydreams. I couldn't get to him any quicker than I was.

"Yes, daddy?" I spoke carefully, giving him eye direct eye contact. Not too direct. He'd feel disrespect where there was none, and I didn't have the skin for that just yet.

He looked down at me, his many tattoos acting like a shirt for his dark brown skin. Scratching his head mindlessly, glaring at me without just reasoning. "Fuck you running in my house for? You better calm ya black ass down this summer. You not too grown to get yo ass whipped...Go handle them dishes like you know you need to." The tone of his voice was enough to make anyone feel small, and he loved that about himself. He stood there and twisted a strand of hair from his small fro, waiting for me to move.

Iwasted no time making my way to the kitchen, slowing down a tad remembering what he'd said seconds ago. He already had me second guessing myself.

As I tackled his sink full of dishes, I made a point to keep any slick emotion off my face. False contentment leaking from my pores. I put none of this in this sink, yet upon arrival it's my responsibility? Bullshit.

I tensed up at the feeling of him lurking behind me. His breath burned the side of my neck, and his breath reeked from all the cigarettes he smoked.
"I'm hungry. Hurry up with them dishes and get something on that stove. Don't make me have to remind you either. Cause that's not poppin either this summer."

I simply nodded, in fear that anything I'd say would be taken wrong. He was still there though. Grazing the back of his thumb over his lips. He told me once the feeling soothed him. I just wished he would move. And stop staring at me.

~

Later that night, I had made dinner and brought it to my father in his room. Most of the day I never saw him. He'd be in there secluded, or outside smoking and pacing the driveway. Sitting to the kitchen table, I slowly ate the chicken on my plate. Staring around the room, basking in my loneliness. Forced to think of the only thing that ever stuck in my mind, I lost my appetite. I wrapped my food up, and made my way out to the front porch, copping a seat on the last step up. It was about 7, but still well enough lit for me to peep around at my surroundings without a squint. Heh..like the time my dad flipped out on me for reading in the dark...the smallest things, I swear.

My train of thought halted for the second time today, I saw a shadow approaching from the ground. I looked up and my eyes met a taller, yellow skinned boy with freckles and hair I could really describe even if I tried. He had tattoos... just the thought made my arm shiver.
"When did you get that?"

- - - - -
I've been plotting on this book for months, and now I'm finally getting to it.
I hope you all like it. :")

#damnalibackatagainwiththecovers 💕

aaaaaight, imma go to sleep. btw these will always post in twos. because of the two pov's. this is not gonna be your average crazy nigga story. nor your average love story. average not'ing. ess different :) aight I'm done. bye guise
- starr