From Brooklyn, with Hate

Chapter 1

It had been more than two weeks since the fire, but the stink of it was still in my hair and on my skin, constantly itching and burning. I took showers twice a day, but the smell lingered. When I closed my eyes at night, the images came back to me. Images of flames licking up the walls, the air filling with orange and crimson light, devouring everything I knew. The fire started, they all say, because of a simple curling iron left on overnight. Although I know the real reason. Julia would never leave alone the fact that our house was too small. She wasn't wrong, she just didn't have to take it this far. She always complained "Everyone shares a room with at least one other person" and "we don't even fit around the kitchen table". My family lived with hers because my mother didn't have enough time or money to support me and my four little brothers. We would have been fine if my father had not given up on us so soon. He just married my mother because he thought she was pretty, and my mother fell for him and his charming facade. Within 10 years of seeing more than just her pretty face, he left us for strangers.

Giving that we had intruded on their lives, I could see why she would be mad. It's not like her and I got along super well in the first place. The least she could do is try to understand. We are cousins after all, despite being on opposite ends of the social ladder here in Phoenix, Arizona.

Our mothers are sisters, hence us staying with them. They grew up in a small town in Mexico, which is where I also spent the first 10 years of my life. Julia's mother, my Aunt Clara, was the good child. She was popular, beautiful, smart, and captain of every varsity team a girl could get her hands on. My mother, Caroline, was the opposite. She had one close friend up until her senior year when she ditched her to be friends with Clara. She was just in average classes, not smart but not dumb. She was pretty, but nothing compared to her sister, and she had no desire to socialize with people after her friend ditched her. She was closed off to everyone, until she met my father at her high school graduation. He saw her as she was walking out of the auditorium crying because her ex best friend trash talked her on stage. My soon-to-be father then escorted her to his car. He took her to his apartment, they got drunk, did some stuff, and then I happened. Once my mother told my grandmother what had happened, my mother was disowned. My grandmother didn't want anything to do with a "whore of a child", as she put it. My mother and father then got married and raised me.

When I was seven, my mom told me I was going to be a big sister. Five months later, she told me that I was going to have not one, not two, but three little siblings. I was excited. I would have someone to play with, maybe a sister to play with, or a little brother to tease. Four months later, my mother and father carried home my three baby siblings. Much to my dismay, they told me that I had three little brothers. All three. Boys. Ryan, Jamie, and Tyler. I was heartbroken that I wouldn't have a little sister to play dress up with, and horrified at the realization that they would terrorize me more than I could tease them. Although this had all seemed tragic when they walked in, I fell in love with the three of them once I laid my eyes on them. They were all so small and fragile. I couldn't help but love them to death. Once the triplets were three years old, when I was ten, my father walked out on us. He had lost his job because he kept getting high at work, and gave up on trying to support all of us. He left my mother with four children and a waitress income, not ever looking back at us.

Five years later, my mother got pregnant again. We were living in an apartment in Brooklyn, we moved when my father walked out in hopes of my mom getting better tips at a restaurant in the states. Of the five years we had been living there, my mother would leave us most nights with a babysitter or just me once I was 13 and old enough to be trusted watching the triplets who would then be 6 at the time. She would be off taking a late shift at work at the end of the week when we were running out of food, or out loitering at a bar hoping some guy would pay for a drink for her. Clearly having children had no effect on her way of life. Well one day she finally got a drink, because she came home drunk out of her mind and in tears. I was 15 and she was sick of living in Brooklyn. She had constantly been switching jobs, sometimes having two of one didn't pay enough or once rent started increasing. I came home from from work, she had made me get a job at 14 just so I could pitch in, and saw her in a frenzy.

"Mom, what's wrong?" I asked, worriedly.

"We need to get out of here," she slurred, sounding panicked, "we can't stay."

"Mom, calm down, talk to me, what happened?"

"Okay, okay," she said as I led her to the small love seat in the corner and got her a glass of water, "I'll tell you what happened. I was at a bar and some guy bought a drink for me. Him and I talked and flirted for a while. Four beers and three shots of vodka later, him and I were having sex back at his apartment. I don't remember much of what happened after that, but I know my knuckles are bloody and my cheek has a hand print on it. I got back here about an hour ago, and I've been trying to see how much money we have saved up."

"First of all mom, I can't believe you, but I can't stop the past from happening, all we can do is deal with the consequences. Second, I'm guessing you and him got into a fight if your knuckles are bloody. I can't see you very well because of the dim lighting. Do we have any brighter lights in this house?"

"Nope. We're not that lucky."

"True. Anyways, why are you panicking yourself trying to see how much money we have saved up?"

"We need to get out of here. I remember him threatening me as I was leaving his house. I don't want you and the triplets in Brooklyn anymore. I called Aunt Clara and asked if we can stay with them until we have enough money to move somewhere else."

"But mom, they live in Phoenix. We would have to fly halfway across the country. We barely have enough for groceries."

"I know. Clara said she could pay half of the price, or however much we can't pay."

"Okay. I'll see how much I have saved up. I just got my paycheck today anyways."

"Thanks June"

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"How will we all fit in Aunt Clara's house?"

"You and Julia will share a room, the triplets will sleep in their spare room, and I will sleep in the guest house on the back of the property since it is only one room."

"Seriously? Julia? You know her and I don't get along."

"I know but this is just temporary. You two will have to be civil just until we can get more money and start over somewhere else."

"Okay fine."

"Thank you June."

We sat there in silence for a few moments before the realization dawned on me.

"Mom, did you and that other guy.... use... did you...?" I stuttered.

"Crap. Um, I'm not sure. It all happened so fast." She replied, my horrors confirmed.

Without saying anything else, the two of us went to bed. We left three weeks later. She pulled us all out of school and threw us on a plane to Phoenix, Arizona. Me, my mother, the triplets, and the second heartbeat inside of my mother. The five, almost six of us moved in with Aunt Clara and Julia.

Two years we lived there, until I was 17 and Julia had enough of us living there. She plugged in her curling iron and left it on, destroying the house and everything that our families had. Aunt Clara lent us some money for a months rent, enough for us to raise money for more plane tickets. The triplets were 10, my new half brother Dylan was 14 months old, and I was 17. We booked six plane tickets to Oregon and we were out of there within two weeks after the fire.

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First chapter done and posted, yay! Let me know what you guys think of it :) I know this chapter is short, and I believe the next few are as well, but they will get longer, I promise.

xoxo, Roxy