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T W O. | October 7th, 2021. Chucalissa , Mississippi.
" In spite of these reports, the state of Mississippi has commence to start an investigation..." the woman turned, her eyebrows compressing downward. "...You'll have to comply with weekly check ins at your home for the next six months." Keyshawn couldn't keep her mind from staying still, her composure falling short. "In addition, if you wish to continue to retain join custody of this minor children, Jaden and Regal, you will be subject to psychological evaluation, drug testing, and other measures..." The woman glanced at Derrick being feet away from her, having a sly grin on his face. He continued to smile as the social worker continued to talk.
" Women like you can't do anything right. You can't pay your fucking rent, you can't get a real job. You're just a fucking stripper. That's all you will ever be in life—"
The woman woke up abruptly from her deep sleep, gasping for air as her eyes gaped open. Lines of sweat rolled down the sides of the woman's head as she recollected her breaths. Keyshawn looked around, gaining sight of where she was physically at, and slowly calmed herself down once the recognition hit.
Another dream. It was one that replayed the very moment of her life, when it went completely left. The moment she lost custody of her kids, the moment when her freedom was hung further abode her head, being further from her reach. That day played over and over in her head, along with the time that spent in jail. If it wasn't for her slow remembrance for Lil Murda's number and the mayor's hand in play, the woman most likely would've still been captivated. Murda and Uncle Clifford got the woman out reluctantly, posting bond quietly— and that was after Mayor Woodbine's force in getting her felony conviction dropped.
Now, she was here, still in Chucalissa. Derrick was trying in all ways to imprison her, and it looked as if his game was working—but Keyshawn wasn't going to let it happen for a lifetime, not even with the law enforcement on his side. She was determined, despite the opposite showing at times.
Waves of depression hit her often, knowing that her children were in the hands of their abusive father. She had only seen them a few times since the time of her posting bail. She had social services and Derrick fooled on where it was that she resided— but again, she had Uncle Clifford's hand to thank for that.
Getting up quietly, Keyshawn went into the kitchen to grab herself something to drink. It wasn't unusual for her to do such a thing at 4 in the morning, as the bad dreams and wake ups were a constant thing she dealt with. The lightbulbs that shun from the fridge made the woman's eyes shrivel up, but they adjusted as she closed it.
Having a water bottle in hand, she was en route to return to the guest room that Mercedes' had set up for her — but Keyshawn's curiousness stepped in the way of that, as she heard murmurs from afar.
