Daddy's House Read Free Page A

what was happening to me. In a strange way, getting bit was what I wanted. I needed to be taken from my misery. Just maybe, I’d end up dead.
    I tied my scarf back around my head like it was bedtime.
    The ventilation was poor, damn near unbearable. But at that point, I had no choice but to weather the storm. I crouched in the corner and talked to myself. That kept me sane. Cold and shivering, I finally knew what it felt like to be homeless.
     
     
     
    Chapter Two
    The next morning, I was posted up in the doghouse, like I was waiting for a bowl to be placed in front of me. Between scratching all over like a junkie, and trying to blow the bad smell from my nose, I’d completely flipped out. Teary-eyed and hungry, I still didn’t wanna move. The thought of being that afraid had me freaked out. The doghouse seemed to be the most unlikely place where anyone would look for me. I just prayed the beast who owned the spot wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon.
    I looked down at my body, and was instantly reminded that I still had on a pajama set with no shoes, and a flowery stitched scarf. At the thought of my attire, I snatched the scarf off my head, and combed my long jet black hair from its wrap with my fingers. Luckily my texture was good, and a few strokes of my hand made me look decent enough to walk around the neighborhood. I crawled to the edge of the doghouse, and peeped out into the sunlight. The house in front of me didn’t look as huge the night before when I decided to trespass, but now it looked humongous. I wondered if the dog was inside, or from the looks of things, at the dog spa. The manicured lawn and top of the line outdoor furniture told me that somebody there had money .
    At the thought of money, I stuck my head back inside, grabbed my purse, and dumped what little laid inside. All I had to my name was inside my wallet. I counted slowly, hoping I was wrong. “Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, eighty-one, eighty-two.” I knew that wasn’t enough for an escape. Obviously whoever came for me last night, knew where I was. So I needed real money to make sure I wasn’t found again.
    I peeped out once again, and rose to my feet. Without a watch, I could only guess the time. I figured from the look of the sun, 9:00 a.m. was approaching. Boldly, I walked around to the side of the house, past the iron railings, clutching my forearms tightly. The air was brisk, but decent for early November. I knew no one would believe my situation, but it was worth a try.
    I rang the doorbell, and lowered my head only to notice my bare feet again. I shook my head, thinking, I would definitely call the cops if I lived here. What should I say? Should I tell them I think my mother has a hit out on me? Who in the hell would believe me? I tried to focus on something different, ‘cause I knew a breakdown was coming. I turned to admire the beautiful scenery of the leaves changing colors on the trees, but that was just a fairy tale; reality stared me in the face.
    “ May I help you?” an elderly white woman asked, opening the door just slightly. She looked at me strangely, from my face down to the bottom of my feet. Slowly, her eyes moved like a scanner. “Dear, I hope you’re not looking for work,” the woman uttered. “Coming here dressed
    in nightclothes is utterly rude!”
    I said nothing, but raised my head a bit.
    “ Well, say something. What do you want?”
    Our eyes locked and so did my brain. “Uhhhhhh…,” I stuttered.
    “ Yes…what do you want?” she repeated.
    A tear fell and my face reddened. “My boyfriend put me out in the street,” I said sincerely. “Me and my baby have nowhere to go.” I started crying openly. I was good at making people feel sorry for me.
    “ Oh my goodness,” the woman said, with her hand placed directly over her chest. Her jaw dropped low. I guess the baby thing did it. She just wasn’t smart enough to ask where the baby was. “I saw something like this on the Montell Williams Show