I had a nice life, kind parents, a loving boyfriend, and a best friend who always stuck by me. At 16 I mourned the death of my older brother. I was 18 when I got pregnant, my best friend left, my parents disowned me, so I stayed with my boyfriend. I didn't know he didn't want the baby, I didn't know he would turn abusive and violent when I refused to have an abortion. I left him, but living on the streets was difficult, especially when being 10 weeks pregnant. I spent my days in the park and no one took any notice of me, but one day, he did. He took me to his home, offered me a place to stay, and supported me through my pregnancy. After I had the baby he helped me start my dream job of working as a photographer for a music magazine. I never once questioned his kindness or support, but when I did, I never expected the answers I got.
She walks in like the epitome of black girl luxury, but pain follows her. She covers it with bust-down jewelry and white roses.
He's quiet, but his presence is loud in itself. Everyone knows him, but she sees right past him.
She's confident, but he's more confident. She's fierce, but he makes her cower.
Passionate.
SADITIFIED.