Something About You | Chresanto A. |

• i'm sorry?

»»°•Zonnique•°««

     When I had a chance, I ran down the basement. I picked up Taylor; she's a heavy sleeper. I ran out the back door. I walked down the sidewalk, trynna get away from the house. I don't think I even wanna work there anymore.

    I reached a park and I sat under a tree with Taylor sleeping in my arms. I cried and sobbed loudly. I don't know what to do anymore.

      If I quit working, I'll have no place to sleep, nothing to eat, and no money. But, then again, If I quit, I could get away from all this. From all this hurt. If I kill myself, Taylor would grow up with no parents, no home. She'll be all alone and that would be selfish of me. But, then again, If I kill myself, I could end it all. I could get away from life.

    Right now, I did the only thing I could do. Cry. How can people be so heartless? How can I be so weak? How can I be such a coward?

                                                       *   *   *                                                      

      When the sun was about to rise, I walk back to the house. I got in the back door and went to the basement. I put Taylor on the bed. I didn't sleep last night, all I did was cry and pray. I brushed my teeth and took a shower, getting the smell of alcohol away from me.

    When I was done, I went upstairs. My jaws dropped at how dirty the house was and some people were sleeping on the floor in the living room. I have to clean all this.

       I started by picking all the cups that was on the floor. Someone moved and I startled. It was a guy with a big curly afro. Lawd, was he cute!  He looked at the cups and some napkins in my hands. "You're really the housekeeper, huh?"

I look down and nodded. "So, do whatever you're gonna do to embarrass me and get it over with."

     I stood there and closed my eyes, waiting for him to punch me, push me, or throw something at me. Minutes passed by and he didn't do anything, I opened my eyes.

"I'm not like them." He said. "That was fucked up what they did last night; I felt bad for you."

"Why didn't you help me?" I asked, quietly.

"I have a reputation." He said.

I sighed. "Right. It's always about reputations."

"Why didn't you stand up for yourself?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Because I can't." I went back to picking up trash with a trash bag in my hand.

     Some people left. They took pictures of me picking up the cups, they laughed at me, and I just ignored them. I did enough crying last night. When they left, I cleaned the house. I went to every room, making sure they were all clean.

When I went inside Chresanto's, he was laying on his bed, groaning in pain. "Are you okay?"

He groaned. "Just a bad headache."

"Do you want me to make you some soup and bring you some Advil?" I asked. 

He nodded. "Please,"

       I nodded before going downstairs. I made him some chicken noodle soup and brought him a water bottle with some Advil. I carried the tray up to his room and gave it to him.

        "Thanks." He said before taking a spoonful from the soup. He quickly out it down noticing how hot it was. I chuckled and he look up at me. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't expect none of that to happen."