Black:Freed

Black

Asia's POV!!

I remember the incident, just like it happened yesterday. I could remember every fresh tear that escaped my eyes, and they burned as they rolled down my cheeks.

My mom and dad always fought, but for some reason, that day was different, It was a lot worse.

I could clearly picture my father's bloody hands and the knife he hld in his death grip. My mother's screams were still fresh in my ears, as I watched his stab her repeatedly, until the agonizing screams finally stopped and a good six stabs to the chest, and her body became lifeless. It was horrible.

I was only six years old. I shouldn't have witness my own father kill my mother. The two people that were the closest to me, and one of them now dead, from the hands of the other.

Before my father called the cops, he told to the lies he wanted me to tell the police.

"Tell them that your mother tried to stab me," he grabbed my skinny little arms, giving me a shake, as I shook my head no. I couldn't just lie like that. "Tell them your mother tried to stab me and it was only self defense," he tried to command me, and I couldn't stop shaking my head no.

I saw him kill my mother, and now he wanted me to act as though it never happened. He gave me a look, the look he always gave me when he wanted me to do as he told. I hated that look.

In all of fifteen minutes, he had me memorize the story over and over until I could repeat it back to him perfectly, before he called the cops.

That day brought forward a whole new me.

I am now seventeen, and it's been eleven years since my mother was murdered and we had the trial.

Since then, I'd grown up and out. My once short and curly hair had now grown longer and is a brown color.

I'm not your average chick in the heart of Brooklyn. Bedford, Stuyvesant to be exact. I was smart, and from the curly hair to my brown skin, I looked mixed.

My father always kept me locked in my room, while my stepsister, Mia, went out just about every single day. It wasn't fair to me, but I didn't really have a choice.

Mia was your average hood rat chick in the projects where we resided. She was loud, short tempered, and last but not least, she was a whore.

She slept with almost every guy she came in contact with, every nigga in the hood, and then some. She probably sucked up all the bloods and crips, every single one of them.

She probably only did it, because she had the body for it. She had big titties, and a big old ghetto booty, and she wasn't afraid to flaunt any of it. "If it's exotic, flaunt it," she would say. She thought she was exotic, but really she was ratchet.

It was finally the last day of school. I walked through the semi crowded hallways, seeing as a lot of the students didn't show up. I wouldn't have came if my dad hadn't made me.

I hated my dad with every being in my body. He took away the only person that I felt truly understood me.

I was so deep in my thoughts of loathing my father, that I didn't realize I had bumped into someone. It was Steven, the average drug dealer. He turned away from his locker, and toward me, looking me in the eyes. I knew Steven, because a while back, we had to do a project together.

"What's up, ma? Where you headed to?" He asked.

Forgetting how to talk, I barely choked out, "History." I hated that every time he came around, I would get so nervous. I guess I might have, kind of, sort have, probably had a crush on him.