The Downtown Badass

Chapter 1 - Here Comes The Badass

"Harmony, get up!" mom screamed down my ear, shoving me just in case that deafening scream didn't wake me. It probably woke the whole neighbourhood up. 

It infuriated me when she tried to act like a fraction of what a mother should be. She doesn't care whether I end up like her or dead in a gutter, being on time for school is the least of her worries.

I can remember back when I was younger, I would always be late if I ever managed to attend. A six year old is dependant on their parents to get them up on time in order to get changed, have breakfast and get out of the door with plenty of time to get to school. However, this wasn't my case. No, my mother believed I was capable of doing all of that by myself.

Lets just say, I attended first grade once.

I knew what her out burst was about, she was trying to prove a point. One thing you should know about me and my mother is, if you haven't guessed, we don't get along. So, on our travels to Downtown Brooklyn I simply told her what I thought about the situation.

Words were said and it ended with her majorly pissed at me. Not that it's a surprise or anything, she always has to be mad at something or someone.

Letting out a groan as I stretched out all my muscles like a cat, I felt myself being shoved again. "For god sake woman! I'm up!" I shouted, losing my patience. Finally cutting out the shoving, I heard her shuffle her way back to the bedroom out of my sight.

Finally.

Slowly but surely I managed to get myself out of bed, bones cracking and muscles finally began to loosen. My back ached from the uncomfortable couch that I had to call a bed and my eyes were tired from the restless sleep I had last night. I was lucky, the other night I woke up coughing due to all the dust that the couch contained, it certainly isn't healthy.

Looking into the mirror that is located on the wall opposite the couch, I took in my appearance. One word to describe the sight I saw, awful! But hey, nothing a little makeup and hairspray wouldn't fix. I'd have to stop off a motel later and use their shower considering the one in this apartment didn't work.

I was lucky enough to have makeup and really good clothes, all down to me might I add. I've been providing for myself every since I was 14 and my mother so kindly pointed out that I was wasting her drug money. 

With the involvement she had with gangs and money you would think that we were semi rich by now, but we are most certain anything but that. 

Currently were living in a small one bedroom apartment in Downtown Brooklyn. You've probably guessed that mom has the bedroom, she says and I repeat "I need the bedroom because I'm older. I had to carry you for nine months and care for you as a child, so the least you could do is let me have the room." She was such a selfish bitch, she only wanted the room so she could bring men back.

It was vile.

The apartment was, in simple terms, inhabitable. Just by walking in the front door you automatically felt you had just stepped into something featured in a SAW movie. The walls that looked like they were once a bright and colourful flowered wallpaper have now turned a mouldy yellow, peeling at the tops where damp has got through. 

The kitchen was very small with space for just two people at a time. A rusty oven that took you twice as long to cook food than it should originally, a broke refrigerator that never worked since the day we moved here and mouldy infested counters that looked like they hadn't been clean for a decade.

The tiled floors were no different. In a past life I imagined them being a sparkling white, where as now they just looked the same colour as the counter tops.