If my eyes could kill, I know this bulky object of a man, would have dropped dead on the floor, and by now I would have been staring at his already lifeless body. My eyes grew larger than they were few seconds ago when he hands my mom a paper and tells her "Find a lawyer, or better still, let her get the punishment she deserves for committing such a hideous crime" I didn't know when my legs decided to give up on me, as my butt finds solace on the stairs. Both their eyes turn toward me. Dean releases a smirk, and my mom looks at me in a determined but sympathetic way.
Dean looks back at my mom, and then slowly, like he was trying to taunt me, waves at me then blows a kiss to my mom, His pap like face looking even more disgusting. That's a lie though Dean is handsome, even with that scar on his nose.
"I guess I will see you both more often from now on." He turns toward the door then adds. "In court" as he leaves, he looks back at us, then with a glare stares hard at me, and then very slowly he shuts the door. My mom hurries toward me the paper on her hand, and her eyes redder than they were before.
"I won't let him okay, remember what I said before, they won't take you away, I won’t let them take you away" she adds unsurely as she kneels beside me and grabs my head, resting it on her bosom. My eyes seem to find solace in her legs, but my heart constricts in my chest when I think of what just happened. I couldn't seem to make out why, just a reason why. Why does it have to be that way? And why the hell does that guy across the street have to make it so hard for me by killing himself, there used to be someone who used to live across the street from my house, he was a beautiful black man that used to smile at me when I step out of my house, he was kind.
I am black and so what? I am still human, as I think these thoughts, tears begin rushing down my cheeks, and I begin wiping them off angrily. My mom seems to notice the state I am in as she pecks me goodnight. But oh my heart went out to her; I could feel her pain and as her heels click hard against the floor as I listen to her door get shut. How will she cope in that room all alone? She lost dad today, and is threatened by someone else concerning her only family. And we both know a case held in court involving a black is very unfavorable towards the black of course. My hand flies to my chest, as I think of the death of my father, his corpse had been taken to the morgue for an autopsy, and not too long ago a man "Dean" seemed to have an imprinted vision of me killing my dad. Tears begin to cloud my vision making it hard for me to see, I hastily begin rubbing my eyes attacking it in such a way that I begin to feel the sting. "What did I ever do?" I ask myself.
I cannot commit suicide, because despite the hate, I know I have people who love me, or maybe two persons who love, and I have a lot to live for, I know they'll be more blacks to be born, and I cannot wait for the time to come, when blacks begin to have the same rights as whites. But you know what's strange? They've been no record of a black child being born for four years now, with shaky legs I get up from the stairs and I head towards my studio.
I put my handmade box of crayons, and pencils in my bag, as I let my hand linger on my china ware.
"it's odd all I buy for you is the finest of wares, and I never see you use them" I smile as my dad's voice forces its way to my brain, a tear slip down my right cheek and I angrily begin to wipe at my cheeks again as tears begin pouring down.
***
It is morning already and waking up has never been so hard, especially since I woke up to memories of yesterday. Why did he have to die? Even as early as five o'clock this morning, a lot of sympathizers have made their way to the house to sympathize and also criticize. "Just what did I ever do wrong?" I ask myself as I sit down back on my bed, my hands on my head. "I have always been a loyal fan of my dad; I was in my studio for crying out loud!" I say as I begin to think of the suspicions look people gave me, I scream the last part out. And why would Laurel think that I even had anything to do with my father's death yesterday when she stood in the crime scene before me. "I am so not looking forward to today" I say as I pick up my backpack despite what happened yesterday, I still have projects to finish up in school and knowing my mom I know she won’t let me stay at home.
I let my feeble legs carry me down the stairs where a lot of real and fake sympathizers are, I decide to walk away from them without a care in the world. But oh how can I? In a house full of light Darkness cannot walk through without any sort of recognition. So, with my back rigid, I decide to still walk out the door, even when the whispers become so heavy, and too hard to bear, as I hear words like "suspect" and “murder".
YOU ARE READING
HIS BROWN SKIN GIRL| (EDITED VERSION)✔
Romance"His dislike became his obsession" Set in a time and place where being black became a stigma. Katherine Mendel found herself in a dead category of brown skinned. Katherine's father was said to have committed suicide. But a murder planned wrong broug...
