Psalms 42 || Tori Kelly

Oh Lord

past

Wednesday — July 17th
11:17 AM

"You're not leaving this house," Tori calmly said, clearing off her newly one-year-olds plate. A loud groan came from fourteen-year-old, Abiah's lips.

"You can't make me stay! I was invited and I'm going!" She yelled. Tori glanced to her child and shrugged.

" I'm not sure who you think your talking to, but surely it's not me. You're not going. You can't finish your summer assignment, because you're going out. So now, because you aren't going out, you have a bunch of time," Tori decided. Abiah glanced to her father, who held his hands up.

"Irie gets to go to Cabo for a week with her boyfriend and friends, but I don't get to go out for a couple of hours?" She spat. "Are you fucking serious?" She compared. Tori turned to her daughter, ready to lay into her, but saw her husband lightly shake his head out of the corner of her eye. Tori took a deep breath and picked up her begging son.

"Abiah, you aren't going—"

"Yes, the fuck I am. Daddy already said I could, so I am," she said, grabbing her backpack and walking out of the front door. Tori turned to André in disgust.

"You see this? This is your fault! You baby her and now she's out of control," Tori blamed. André shut his computer screen with a sigh.

"I don't baby her, she's just been through a lot," André justified. Tori scoffed, hoisting her youngest higher on her hip.

"That was two years ago! At what point do we stop blaming her insubordination on her tragic incident that took place a while ago. We have to parent her, before she's next!" Tori griped, before taking her child down to his room for a nap. André knew his wife was right, but it was hard. The image of his baby girl crying in a bawl beside her bed, was all he could see anytime Abiah acted out.

1:37 PM

Tori sat on the couch of her living room, flipping through channels aimlessly. With her youngest son taking a nap and her oldest son at his grandma's for the week, Tori found herself with an abundance of free time. "Hey, babe," André called, dropping his gun bag by the wet bar as he came in the house. Tori glanced to him, and sipped her wine. "Come on. You can't still be mad at me for earlier," he pressed.

"André, I'm serious. You keep treating her like she's some fragile being that will fall apart if we even so much as tell her what to do. News flash, she's not. The girl that just left our house, knows she runs it," Tori replied, before finishing off her drink and starting to pour another. André watched his wife pour a nice sized glass of her favorite wine, and take a hug swig.

"You're really day drinking over this? She's fine. She will be home in a couple of hours, like she said," André asked. Tori shot him a glare.

"Yes, I am day drinking over this. Because if I don't, I'll loose my entire mind! She's walking around like a monster and you can't see the issue! And when I actually parent her, you get in the way!" Tori yelled.

"Oh, so now I'm the problem?" André yelled back.

"I said that from the beginning! But you're to dense to understand! So let me spell it out! She is your creation! What are you gonna do if she overdoses, gets alcohol poisoning, or comes home pregnant? Or doesn't come home at all! Then your going to wish you had done better! I'm here telling you to stop being reactive and be proactive! She's our child and but she's not a baby! Grow a back bone!" Tori finished, grabbing her glass and her bottle, before heading up to the balcony. André speechlessly watched her ascend up the stairs and slammed his fist on the counter once she was out of sight.