BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 15 ||

This beautiful rich house contained individuals that were inner chaos. Even the most perfect people ask for more, never satisfied or fulfilled to an appreciative limit.

We became a jumbled mess with internal secrets that hauled on our backs, staring at the ceiling to hold onto them in. We waited for answers that left us awake at night, turning obvious questions into corruption.

Secrets sometimes revealed themselves.

  

— Ebonee 

Like Jewelz for instance. She wasn't her normal perfect self I expected to see all the time.

Her sobs dragged out in the holy night on the kitchen counter, sipping fancy red wine for comfort, soothing her melancholy.

I shouldn't have been downstairs so early that morning, where the sun slept, but the sky was present. Yet, I was wide awake when those small whimpers disturbed me. The papers that I thought were flimsy calculated bills and credits weren't those. Just tiny slips of work of art. Poems littered the table and the ink cried along with her, weeping in a pretty smudged font.

Delicate lines and pretty words put poets in tears I guess.

Jewelz became a mess that night, sucking in air to breathe through the pain. Her mascara black tears imprinted tears that needed scrubbing off and seemed to not go away. The mascara tears blackened her face like polluted water. I slim sheet hung on the edge of the counter for dear life and my eyes focused on it. One poem stuck out to me among the others with multiple somber lines, two stanzas, one message, but no title.

My voice shook unsteadily at how sad the room could get, emotional and all, "What's...What's this one called?" I whispered.

Her bloody eyes swayed in a slow daze till she finally had the strength to look up and sipped some more until the alcohol pained her in wonderful and unpleasant ways. "The Bruised, Abused and Misused Poem," she cried quietly.

I waited till the ink smudged another letter and wine dripped off her lip to ask something more, parting my lips that can be heard between us until she snapped.

"Leave!" She wailed and realized how harsh it became when I slightly jumped and cracked out, "Please."

We didn't speak of it again.

Simone has several things up her sleeve too I don't think many know about.

The weather was being odd and off balance that day, blazing hot and burning nature one day but windy and drizzly the next.

I was just getting back from work and an unidentified car was parked in the driveway with an ordinary plate, parked smack in the middle. The door swung open revealing a lanky perfect teenager who models in her glorious days and likes to tan or travel with her lingerie holding up between her thighs, pulling them up. My eyes popped out of my head then, but I corrected the gesture quickly and boldly walked up to her with stride and purpose.  When she caught my crossed arms and foul face, her eyes froze overtime. All her sneaky events exposed to the world including the nasty parts.

Someone else hopped out of the car that appeared to not be her boyfriend, Mahlik but one guy I do recognize. The same milky olive complexion, black hair, scruffy premature beard and Arabic accent match the figure in my head.