Psalms 42 || Tori Kelly

Not Even God

3 PM

The last school bell rang, reminding Abiah that her math teacher was standing in the way of true love. Or what she thought could be love at fourteen. "Hey, Mr. Jeet!" Abiah greeted as she skidded into the empty classroom. It looked different without her peers. "Can we make this quick, I gotta meet someone before my dad gets here!" Abiah rushed, pulling out her binder and second set of homework.

"I would, uh, I would like nothing more," he smiled, shutting his laptop, but not pulling out anything. Slowly, he shut the door and started to undo his tie. Abiah hadn't noticed the change in atmosphere as she sat at the first desk, closest to her teachers, and pushed her hair behind her ears.

"Alright, so I pretty much have this down, I just don't—" Abiah's sentence shorted itself when she looked up to see her teacher rolling up his sleeves. His shirt was two buttons down and he looked very comfortable. "Umm, I just didn't really get number 12," she finished. The 42-year-old placed a warm hand on his pupil's exposed shoulder and came around to get a good view of her paper and down her shirt.

"I think you're just fine," he whispered. Abiah glanced at him, slightly uncomfortable.

"I think I should—"

3:49 PM

Abiah limped towards the front of the school, dry tears coated her face. She didn't even bother to put on her jacket or truly zip up her backpack. She just wanted to get out.

The sun burned her skin as she searched the parking lot for her dads truck. To her dismay though, a black coupe pulled up in front of the concrete steps. "Fucking hell," she whispered, slowly coming down the steps.

Tori took off her sunglasses, investigating why her daughter was moving so slowly. She was fine when she came up and down the stairs that morning.

Crap.

Tori mentally sighed. The part of her that wanted to bring down the hammer, was overridden by her concern. Abiah carefully slid into the car to see her baby brother watching his iPad in the back. Defense mode kicked in, knowing that her mother was going to kill her for not changing. "I know! I know! I was supposed to change and I didn't. Can we talk about this later?" she begged. Tori's eyes roamed her daughter's body language. Her arms were clutching the oversized denim jacket she'd brought that morning.  Her legs were squeezed closed. Tori was sure that if Abiah pressed any harder her legs would fuse together.

"Babe, you good?" Tori asked, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's leg. Abiah's leg jerked away from her mother's touch but tried to play it off.

"Mhmm," Abiah mumbled, cuddling towards the door, resting her head on the window.

"Biah!" Sampson yelled from the backseat. Tori watched her daughter ignore the baby as she pulled on her sunglasses and put her car into drive.

"Sammy, Biah, doesn't feel good right now," The singer unnecessarily covered, since the one-year-old could not care less about his sister well being next to Paw Patrol. "Abiah, do you want me to drop you off at home before I head to the church with dad? You can catch a ride home with Irie," Tori asked, stopping at the stop sign, needing to know which way to go. The car sat in silence for a moment. "Abiah, honey, are we going to dad and Irie or are we going home?" Tori asked, once more. Abiah did her best to shield her tears and shrugged.

"Let's just go home," she choked through tears. Tori did her absolute best to focus on getting she and her kids home safely, but she could hear something was wrong, through her daughter's voice. And she needed to get to the bottom of it.

—

"Wait, she posted that on her Instagram?" Izzy asked, sliding the phone back to her church daughter. Irie nodded wiping her hands on the cloth napkin in her lap and slipping the device in her pocket.