Ash & Dust

7| She Was Beaten

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ASH
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About a week had passed since I last saw my mother. I chalked it up to being busy with work or needing rest, but I knew deep down that I was avoiding her. I was still hurt from the whole 'break in and attempted robbery' stunt that I didn't want to face her.

"Sup, Miss Cole!" Danny, a young boy from the neighborhood greeted me as he walked through the doors of the community center.

I worked as one of the counselors there. Not the type that sat the kids down and talked about their feelings, I'd be the worst choice for that, but the type likened to a camp counselor. I liked my job, for what it was worth. The kids respected me, despite the fact that most of them were bigger than me. It made my job easier to do when they actually wanted to listen to me.

"Hi, Danny," I smiled, ignoring the ache in my chest that reminded me I had nothing to genuinely smile about, besides maybe this boy. "How's your mom doing?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the dark skinned boy tucked his skateboard under his arm and leaned onto my desk. "She's always working, as usual."

"Mhmm," I hummed, raising a brow at him, causing him to chuckle.

"I know, I know," he said. "She does it so me and my sister can have a better life, but she's always so tired. I'd rather her be home and make less than keep doing this. At least then she'd be happy. What's the point in working if you never have time to live?"

Pouting my lips out in sympathy, I ruffled the top of his head, and playfully punched his shoulder. "You're a good kid, Danny."

"I am, aren't I," he replied, pretending to be smug.

"Alright, weirdo, go put your stuff in a locker. Everyone else is waiting in the gym," I told him.

"Ooo, what are we doing today?"

Normally, I don't tell any of the kids what we'll be doing early, but he was about to find out anyway. Plus, I happened to have a soft spot for Danny.

"Dodgeball, basketball, and then we'll have a sit down discussion on community safety."

Nodding his head, he ran off to put his things away and I headed into the gym, ready to get things started.

Hours later, my shift was over, and I started walking the short distance it took to get home when I suddenly changed my mind and headed in the direction of Hollow Street—The street I grew up on, and the street my mother currently still lived.

You can't avoid her forever. Might as well deal with things sooner, rather than later.

Keeping my head low, as usual, I walked down the alley always lined with prostitutes and junkies. I knew some of the women, which always broke my heart. Especially when I saw some of the girls I grew up with that weren't as fortunate as I. Where my father's reputation protected me from being forced into the sex ring, those girls weren't given that grace. In ways, it made me feel guilty.

My father was not a good man, at all. But, as ironic as it may sound, he was not a terrible father. It made me feel conflicted when it came to his memory. A lot of woman suffered because of him, my mother included, but somehow he managed to actually love and protect me, even after his death.

I struggled on how to reconcile who he was to me with who he was to everyone else, but it was nearly five years later and I still had no progress. Turning onto the street, I saw the old house from here, and a familiar figure standing outside of it, pacing.