Letters To Shay||✓

chapter six.

Ohma and I got into a staring contest for some time, before she looked away and licked her lips in the most seductive way possible. Okay, Key, keep your head in the game. She let out a shaky breath and looked at me, her eyes darkening as though there was something about me that unnerved her. She leaned back in her chair. "Brace yourself, Keyonna. It's about to get dangerous." I copied her actions and folded my arms across my chest. She hesitated at first, but with an encouraging nod, she started. "Okay, here goes..."

Once upon a time, sixteen years and seven months ago, Ohma was born into low down family; a drunk for a father and an illegal African immigrant for a mother. Ever since she was born her father neglected her and left her in the care of her mother. Every day, until she was five, she witnessed her father beating her mother and cutting her wrist until she almost bled to death. Their neighbour, Granny Black, was an old nurse and always took of both Ohma and her mother, feeding them when she could. When she could not, they starved. Her parents died in a car accident- Daddy drove straight into a pole, killing him and his wife. Ohma was found unconscious and taken to the hospital for treatment.

Having no relations to stay with in the state, Ohma was put in an orphanage. She hardly talked but was very violent, especially to the other children. The social workers made sure she was whipped and as harder punishment, was sent to a dark room to think of her offences. What they saw was a violent, aggressive child, but they didn't understand. She'd lost her only support- her mother, and images of their dead, limp bodies made her upset, therefore she converted her upset behaviour to anger. She was isolated, and ignored. Until she was adopted. That day seemed to be happiest days at the orphanage. But the same could not be said for Ohma, as her case was like the bean that jumped from the frying pan, right into the fire.

Two weeks after she was legally a part of the Dowells family, they revealed their true colours. Mama Dowells was a drug addict, and anytime she was high on drugs, she made sure to beat Ohma to a state of comatose. She hardly got any food to eat and was leaner than the weakest branch on a tree. She was denied access to the basics- food, fresh clothing, education and love. At this point Ohma had two choices; live or die. She chose the obvious choice. With the disguise of a beggar, she begged for food every day for three months straight, without her foster parents knowing. Papa Dowells was rarely at home. Even when he was he ignored Ohma's presence and showered his wife with money and expensive jewellery. If he was in a good mood he'd leave Ohma a fresh gown and a meagre amount of money, but that was it.

Later on, mama Dowells stepped up Ohma's suffering up a notch. She began to beat and burn Ohma with the butts of her cigarettes... Every day.

Ohma was dying-physically, and emotionally. Without the love of at least one parent and adequate food, Ohma me made up her mind to run up away from home. She laid out plans for her escape but none of them seemed reasonable... Until a golden opportunity presented itself. Mama Dowells was unconscious due to an overdose. Sure that she was out, Ohma made her escape. At eight, Ohma was homeless, hungry and alone.

For the first few days of her escape, Ohma felt free. But food and shelter were her major priority. Soon she joined a band of thieves-not a preferable choice, but hey, she had a bed to sleep in, a roof over her head and a lot of food to eat. The other children were older but hardly related outside mission level. She learned self-defence methods and was taught to use guns and knives if the need arose. She seemed to be 'living the life' until her luck was cut drastically short- she was caught during a heist and was returned to the home she'd been dreading for the past three years.

After being told that Mama Dowells was in 're-hab', Ohma locked herself up in her room, only coming out to ease herself or eat. The only real family she had was on the streets and that had been taken away from her. There was no need escaping; she would be caught and returned to this hell she'd once escaped from. What was a girl to do?