Their Princess

Ch. 1- Mama's End

WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ASSUALT AND DEATH. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

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I was sprawled out on my tiny bed listening to music with my earbuds in. My curly, dishevelled hair fanned out on my pillow as I basked in the warmth of the rays of sunlight that peered through my curtains. I hummed along to the music as I ran my fingers through a ray of light as if I were playing with it.

What the music had masked was the sirens, people yelling, and whatnot outside. Even though this neighbourhood isn't the best place, the small apartment me and Mama live in is our little world.

I take the earbuds out, cutting off the music as the screaming outside becomes more and more into focus. I rolled off my bed and stretched my arms before hopping over my clothes on the ground as if my room were an obstacle course. I'll clean it soon.

I made a beeline towards the fridge and scanned the options before settling with orange juice. I shut the fridge before pouring myself a cup and downing it. Our place was covered with photos of just me and Mama. Some people would think it's quite lonely but I love it. My mother is my best friend and she's the only person I could depend on.

I placed my cup into the sink and returned the jug of juice to the fridge. But as soon as I closed it, I spotted a bright pink sticky note sitting on top of the black-and-white Chuck-E-Cheese photo we took a long time ago.

Home late, pls get groceries the list is on the dining table. Pay u back tmr

Love, ur 1 nd only amazing dear mama xoxo!!!

I laughed to myself as I headed to the dining table with the note still in hand. My mother is more like a teenager than I am myself. I'm 15 and she's 43 yet I'm the one who hates bad grammar. Ironic.

I found a white piece of paper, messily folded it up and shoved it into my pocket. I grabbed the house keys and some cash from my room before I put on a coat over my hoodie. I slid on my Crocs and made my way to the brown, front door and towards the elevator.

"ELEVATOR IS OUT OF ORDER, PLEASE USE STAIRS." I white piece of paper stared back at me as yellow caution tape lazily hung at its sides.

I groaned as I redirected myself to the stairwell. I never liked the stairwell ever since I got chased down by some mouse. It was running from me too I guess, but I don't think we had both gotten the memo.

I finally reached the bottom before I pushed the exit door as I pulled up my hood and shoved my hands into my pockets. The bitter, cold wind had immediately hit my face causing me to bow my head. Gosh, this was gonna be long.

I usually mind my own business to avoid confrontations with people but my hood was hiding half my face. I looked around for the first time in a long time as I observed the people in my neighbourhood. Little kids played in the snow as men and even some boys around my age drank and smoked next door. Trash was still littered everywhere despite the snow covering almost everything. Everybody here was coloured. I have only ever seen a few white people but they were usually in the South.

Reaching the store, I immediately shoved myself into it taking in the warmth of it. I inhale the familiar smell of whatever substance the owner smokes and immediately grimace upon it. How many times has his wife and I told him to stop? I swear we're a broken record right now.

Grabbing a basket, I began to weave through the tiny aisles dropping items in as I shuffled through. I reached the front counter and hit the small, worn-out bell as I waited for the infamous owner.

"Ari?" I hear an old, familiar voice to my far right. "How is you darling?"

A wrinkled face popped over from the corner, revealing who they were. It was Mr. Luck. He walked with his cane to the till with a cigarette in his mouth. He looked to be in his 60s with his wrinkly, light brown face and would adjust his glasses every 10 seconds. Mr. Luck wore a faint, yellow polo shirt with dark blue, baggy jeans. He sat down on a tall stool as he opened the cash register.