Caught in the system

Khalil held onto his little sisters hand as they followed closely behind a skinny caseworker named Ms. Taylor, into an old dingy looking apartment building. It had been exactly 2 weeks since child protective services took them from their drug addicted mother and was blessed to have not been seperated, which was best since he was the only thing that his little sister Kenya knew as a true protector. "This way," Ms Taylor instructed, making a left down a dimly lit hallway, stopping at a door with a missing apartment number. "I wanna go home.." Kenya whispered, gripping Khalil tight with both hands as the sound of a barking dog echoed through the hall. "This is home.. for now.." He whispered back, running his hand over her fuzzy beaded braids. Swallowing hard, heart began to race as the door to the apartment creeked open, revealing a heavy set lightskin woman with an uninviting gap tooth smile. To Kenya, the woman's smile reminded her of the grinch that stole christmas. "Well, who do we have here?" she asked. Breathing heavily through her wide sweaty nostrils as she stepped aside to let the three of them in. Khalil could barely walk as Kenya held onto him for dear life, clearly afraid of the huge lady. The woman saw this and quickly became offended, but didn't show it. Instead, she kept that grinch like smile upon her face as she walked over to her coffee table, grabbing a peice of candy from of a bowl that contained keys, a couple of hair pins, and an old dusty vcr remote. "Here ya go baby.. you like mint chocolate?" she asked, trying to sound friendly. Kenya nodded slowly, lettting go of Khalil as she reached out to take the candy from the large woman. "See? I'm not going to bite, sweetie." again, she smiled. "What's your name?" "Kenya.." She answered shyly, looking down at her pink and white tennis shoes as she unwrapped her candy. "That's a pretty name Kenya. My name is mama Snookie. How old are you darling?," "Six... and my brother is Fifteen," she informed, as she chewed on her candy. "Fifteen huh? Well he's a handsome young man," she said, looking over at Khalil, giving him a wink before instructing both of them to take thier bookbag full of clothes into the backroom so she could talk to Ms. Taylor. "I don't like this place... why cant we go home with mommy?" Kenya asked, following her brother into the back room. "Because ma is sick, Kenya," Khalil explained, as he closed the door shut behind them, locking it out of habit. "And we cant go back until she's better," he lied, knowing for a fact they would never see their mother again. But Kenya was too young to understand the meaning of drug use and prostutution. Even though Khalil was only fifteen, he was mature for his age and knew all too well about what went on in the streets. He was one of the young hustlas on the block, selling dope for his father, who was rising to the top as one of the highest, respected-well paid O.G's in newark until his house got raided, leaving him locked up in the prison system for the next 25 years for a shitload of drug, guns, and attempted murder charges. Months after becoming incarcerated, his father would send letters and money to the house so Khalil and Kenya could stay fed, but after a while the letters stop coming.. and so did the money. Khalil never understood why his father would send cash directly to the house, anyway. He could've sent it to a friend of the family so Khalil could've went to go pick it up. He knew that his father was aware of the situation at home with their mother, and he also knew that she didn't give two fucks about her children and whether or not they had a decent hot meal to eat at night. All she cared about was when and where she was going to get that next hit of the needle.. and she would do anything to get it. Even if that meant, taking food from out of her own children's mouths. "Okay," Kenya said sadly, as Khail unzipped her jacket. "You hungry?," He asked, as she sat down on one of the beds, licking the remaining bit of chocolate off her fingers. She nodded. "Okay, once we get situated here, I'ma go-" before Khalil had a chance to finish his sentence, someone knocked at the bedroom door. Quickly, he went over to unlock it. "Rule number one sweetheart, we dont lock doors around here," Mama snookie said, as her and Ms. taylor walked through the door. "Sorry.." Khalil told her, avoiding eye contact. "Are you two set, do you have any questions?" Ms. Taylor asked, smiling to ease the already tense situation. Both shook their heads no. "I will be back in a couple of days to see how you guys are doing, so until then follow instructions, Behave and do whatever Ms. Snookie tells you guys to do, okay?" Without waiting for a response, Ms Taylor turned to Mama Snookie. "And If you have any questions or if you need anything just give me a call at my office," she said, handing her a small white card. "And my cell number is on the back," "We all set?" Mama snookie asked, anxious to get the caseworker out of her house. "All set," Ms Taylor confirmed, as her and Mama snookie walked back toward the front door. They exchanged byes, and that was it. "Dinner will be ready soon, so put your clothes away in the draw and wash your nasty little hands to get ready to eat," she yelled from down the hall, not even a bit interested in getting to know the two. She could give two shits about a crack whores children. All she cared about was that nice lttle monthly check she would recieve from having them stay with her.

Khalil looked arcross the table as he silently watched his little sister struggle to eat what was on the plate in front of her. He knew she would prefer a nice hot slice of pizza over a nasty unflavored peice of meatloaf and not all the way cooked rice any day.

"Eat that shit, I aint got no food to be wasting," Snookie snarled as she slammed the freezer door shut. Khalil cut the corner of his eye at her, gripping his fork tight as her slippers dragged across the kitchen floor.