Shattered Dreams

Chapter One: Night Watch

 I never thought that a mother is supposed to protect her daughter through everything. It just doesn't sound right to me, my mother was supposed to protect me. I'm Amira Alice Goodwin. My mother died when I was seven years old. My father, on the other hand, let's just say, he is one out of the dozen of craziness. My mother, Alice Marlon Goodwin and my father Shane Goodwin had me at a young age; she was sixteen and he was seventeen. It's what I call a young, dumb, high school situation. The daughter of a one of a kind relationship

My father says that I look like my mother. Long black hair, with a hint of red in the sunlight. She was as beautiful, as a queen. I miss my mother so much, I pray every night that she is still alive. I dream about them a lot of times when they were arguing and fighting. I rarely have seen my parents love each other, or even laugh with each other. It was constant fighting between them. I guess that's what I get for having young parents like I was meant to be with this family.

We live in Atlanta, Georgia, the year of 2016. Our neighborhood is very quiet, nothing too dangerous, except for loud noises. I hear gunshots sometimes, but nothing near my home. No deaths, so far, which is very amazing for this kind of neighborhood.

My childhood, I really don't remember anything but my parents fighting. Some days, my father, would put his hands on my mother, and cause bruises on her arms and face. I only have one picture of my mother and I together. My father burned the rest of her pictures after she died; says it helped him to move on, but I think he was trying to cover up something. The hate in my father's eyes when he talks about her, I don't understand, he should have tears in his eyes instead. I can't imagine what he would keep from me; I plan to find out what he is hiding. One day I will find out the truth, until then, I am stuck here.

I dream about her almost every night. My nightly routine consists of me taking two showers, brushing my teeth, doing my hair and then watching the stars. I take two showers because I don't fully feel clean after the first one. I have two windows in my room, one above my bed and then one pointing to the front of the house. My father put bars on the window so I would not run away. For some reason, he rather have me here with him,  instead of with someone else. He is very controlling and rude to everyone.

My favorite part of the day is at night time, for most days, when I can watch the moon and stars by myself. It is soothing to me; feels like I was meant to watch the stars and believe that there is another world or even states out there to see. Some nights can be a little creepy at times though. I remember one thing from my childhood that my mother told me; all the stars in the universe are people who have died and went to heaven.

We have a neighbor across the street, who sits outside all night and watches the street, but I believe she is watching our house. Every time I come out, she watches me very closely, like she knows me or something; it's very creepy at times. She has two boys, I go to school with the oldest one, his name is Johnathan and we are in all the honor classes together. I don't know much about him he mostly stays to himself just like I do when I am at school.

"Amira get you ass out here now." My father yells down the hall, as I jump up out of bed from me writing a poem. I hate the fact that he is so rude to me at times. I came as quickly as I could, I didn't want him to get upset with me; not today, because I am not feeling it. Here is the thing with me calling him father, he won't let me call him by any other name, but a father. One time, I called him dad he slapped me to the floor. Said father is more proper.

"Yes father," I said as I turned the corner and saw a tall lovely looking 6ft 2" man; dressed in all black, with red stripes on the shoulders. He was extremely happy to see me, and he was buff, so buff that he could barely fit into his shirt. He had the neckpiece and two of the buttons on the shirt open; to see his chest hair and sparkling from the sweat coming down his neck.