when he left, and she told him that he was the best son a mother could have. She told him that she wished she could have been a better mom to him. He told her that she did what she could and he appreciated her for that. He kissed her on the cheek, and then he told us to wish him luck. We were all happy for him. Me and Naja walked him outside and we stood in the doorway and watched him get in his Mustang with Antione and pull off. We couldn’t wait for him to get back home that day and tell us the good news. Me and Naja were dancing around the house talking about our brother was about to be rich and famous.
“Curt about to blow up!” Naja said, squatting down with her hand over her mouth, copying a phrase and movement from Martin Lawrence.
We both laughed. My mom eventually joined in with our silliness, and the three of us were parading around the house celebrating. Little did we know Curtis would never get his chance.
Home Sweet Home
H i, Mom,” I said dryly as I walked in from school. My mom was sitting on the couch staring into the blank television screen. A lit cigarette was hanging on the side of an already filled ashtray on the wooden coffee table in front of her. She was damn near lifeless just like she had been since Curtis died. My brother’s murder affected a lot of people in a lot of ways. Antione moved out. I hardly went outside anymore. The whole block deadened. People were scared to sit on their front porches, fearful of stray bullets. But nobody was more impacted than my mom. She was never the same. The doctors said that she had fell into a depression that some pills would be able to control, but apparently the pills made it worse. She got hooked on them, and when they ran out she turned to alcohol. Eventually when the liquor wasn’t easing her pain, she turned to heroin, her current drug of choice. And on top of that she met a drug-addict-pervert, Marvin, who she called her old man. And for the past nine months, we’ve all been forced to live as a family, which was, as you can imagine, hell .
I went straight upstairs to do my usual check on my little brother Kindle. He was only two and a half, so he wasn’t in school yet. And my mom couldn’t afford day care so he stayed home all day with my mom and her boyfriend. For that reason, I made it my business to make sure he had breakfast before I left for school in the morning and I checked in on him and spent a little time with him immediately after I got home from school.
“Angel,” Marvin said as he exited the bathroom. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
I ignored him and proceeded to enter my little brother’s room.
“Kindle is sleep,” Marvin informed me, stopping me in my tracks. “Come here, though. I want you to read something for me,” Marvin said, reaching out for my hand.
“Can’t you bring it out here?” I asked, trying to be loud enough for my mother to hear me.
Marvin gripped my wrist and gave me the look that meant I’d better do as he said or else, so I went. Once inside my mom’s barely furnished room, Marvin forcefully threw me on top of a mattress that my mother and him called their bed. He closed the bedroom door, first placing a towel between the door’s lock and its frame, to keep it shut. Afterward he dragged his skeletal frame over to me casually. He began to unfasten his pants as he stood looking down on me as if I were a juicy steak dinner. His eyes were glassy and only halfway open. Droplets of sweat began to gather at his temples. He started licking his lips slowly. I closed my eyes to avoid the sight of him. I wanted to cry, but it wouldn’t do anything but make him happier—so I didn’t. I just laid there on my back and prayed while he had his way with me once more.
“Naja Chanel Washington, where have you been? ” My mother’s high-pitched voice woke me out of my sleep.
I turned over slowly and looked at the purple alarm clock that sat on the computer desk in my room. It was 9:25 at night and my
“Curt about to blow up!” Naja said, squatting down with her hand over her mouth, copying a phrase and movement from Martin Lawrence.
We both laughed. My mom eventually joined in with our silliness, and the three of us were parading around the house celebrating. Little did we know Curtis would never get his chance.
Home Sweet Home
H i, Mom,” I said dryly as I walked in from school. My mom was sitting on the couch staring into the blank television screen. A lit cigarette was hanging on the side of an already filled ashtray on the wooden coffee table in front of her. She was damn near lifeless just like she had been since Curtis died. My brother’s murder affected a lot of people in a lot of ways. Antione moved out. I hardly went outside anymore. The whole block deadened. People were scared to sit on their front porches, fearful of stray bullets. But nobody was more impacted than my mom. She was never the same. The doctors said that she had fell into a depression that some pills would be able to control, but apparently the pills made it worse. She got hooked on them, and when they ran out she turned to alcohol. Eventually when the liquor wasn’t easing her pain, she turned to heroin, her current drug of choice. And on top of that she met a drug-addict-pervert, Marvin, who she called her old man. And for the past nine months, we’ve all been forced to live as a family, which was, as you can imagine, hell .
I went straight upstairs to do my usual check on my little brother Kindle. He was only two and a half, so he wasn’t in school yet. And my mom couldn’t afford day care so he stayed home all day with my mom and her boyfriend. For that reason, I made it my business to make sure he had breakfast before I left for school in the morning and I checked in on him and spent a little time with him immediately after I got home from school.
“Angel,” Marvin said as he exited the bathroom. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
I ignored him and proceeded to enter my little brother’s room.
“Kindle is sleep,” Marvin informed me, stopping me in my tracks. “Come here, though. I want you to read something for me,” Marvin said, reaching out for my hand.
“Can’t you bring it out here?” I asked, trying to be loud enough for my mother to hear me.
Marvin gripped my wrist and gave me the look that meant I’d better do as he said or else, so I went. Once inside my mom’s barely furnished room, Marvin forcefully threw me on top of a mattress that my mother and him called their bed. He closed the bedroom door, first placing a towel between the door’s lock and its frame, to keep it shut. Afterward he dragged his skeletal frame over to me casually. He began to unfasten his pants as he stood looking down on me as if I were a juicy steak dinner. His eyes were glassy and only halfway open. Droplets of sweat began to gather at his temples. He started licking his lips slowly. I closed my eyes to avoid the sight of him. I wanted to cry, but it wouldn’t do anything but make him happier—so I didn’t. I just laid there on my back and prayed while he had his way with me once more.
“Naja Chanel Washington, where have you been? ” My mother’s high-pitched voice woke me out of my sleep.
I turned over slowly and looked at the purple alarm clock that sat on the computer desk in my room. It was 9:25 at night and my
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