"Up girl! Up!" a gruff voice shouted.
I kept blinking, feeling something cold and moist beneath me.
"I said up! You have school and you're filthy!" someone said yanking me up by my arm.
My eyes adjusted to the light and I stared into someones hazel eyes.
My father's.
I snatched my arm away a little too aggressively, flinching a little thinking he'd hit me for being so rude.
"Ah, I deserve that, leaving you out here and such." his New Orleans accent ringing through the air.
"But don't make that a habit eh. I feed, clothe and give you shelter. You hear me girl? Get in the house and get ready for school, before you leave throw on a pot of grits." he said, spitting seeds at my feet.
"Yes sir. Uh, you won't be taking me to school?" I said looking away from him.
"What was that? Drive you? Ha! I din't forget about yesterday with that boy. You acting fast like that, then you can quickly walk that ass to school for the last two days of the week." he chuckled, seeds spewing out the side of his mouth.
Back talking wasn't worth it. I went in the house and got ready for school.
I slipped out of the door quickly after putting his grits on the stove. I hear the shower running so I run in his room and grab a 20 out of his stash. He wouldn't notice, he runs through money on alcohol and gets so drunk he forgets how much he spent.
I turn to go but I get bold. I turn and grab a 50.
I may never get this chance again and he never gives me anything.
As I leave I spot a piece of paper tucked under his beer stained pillow.
I peak.
It's a number.
443-577-6382.
I memorize it and stalk out. The shower cuts off as soon as I slip out of the front door.
YOU ARE READING
Bruised Roses
Dla nastolatków"I'm so used to the hits it feels like rose pedals on my skin. Leaving red and purple bruises behind. His words hit me like the wind of spring, the time I was born, the time the roses were born. Well now I was as red as a rose. All these bruised ros...
