A / After
My mother comes home with a new man. He looks at me and winks on his way to her bedroom upstairs. My stomach curdles like sour milk, I want to spit.
I don't have a bedroom of my own to run to and hide in. I can't hide in the bathroom because my mother will need it after she is done.
The kitchen is too cold, the window in the back door having been broken for a month now after a phone went through it. One of my mother's men had thrown it.
After he had run his hand down my back.
After he had thrown me against the kitchen counter.
After I had fallen to the floor from the impact.
After he had kicked me in the ribs.
My ribs will heal for free. The back door costs money. Money I do not have.
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