In a city of sheep ruled by wolves, she became the python that pulled them apart.
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Sage Black is a girl of little opportunities, forced to see the seamy side of life growing up in New York. Witnessing what lengths billionaires will go through t...
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David may be a scheming bastard, but he has his facts straight. We are struggling to stay above the water. And our humble structure of a house is evidence of that.
It's a shabby, two-room grim apartment in a brownstone tenement with a fire escape, lining the street. My brother and I share a cramped room, divided by a handful of superhero posters on one half and an old map of the world on the other that I'd found in a garage sale. The map has been my anchor for so many years, the hope that one day, things won't be as hard as they are now. The world's a big place, and I will find my own footing one day.
I tear my gaze from the pastel-colored map on the wall to Marli sitting on the foot of my bed with my mother and brother, Roan, surrounding her. I just explained my encounter in the café.
As usual, Roan seems disinterested. He mumbles a 'that's great' before jumping back on his bed, shoving a pair of earphones in his ears that let out the muffled sound of music. At the pre-teen age of thirteen, the only things that pique his interest are comics and anime.
I glance back at my mother. She would be pretty in another life; a life where the worry and stress of living our life doesn't mark her soft face. She is a petite woman, small in size and voice. It's evident in her soundless steps, the delicate arc of her nose, and her modestly kept hair that never falls out of her perfect, low bun. I inherit nothing from her save for the autumn eyes and cold bronze skin, a token from her Persian parents.
"Where's Dad?"
She gives me a pitiful smile, and I already know the answer. "He's . . . Out again, honey. But I'm sure he'll be thrilled when he hears about this."
I taste something bitter in my mouth. He's always out. Out in bars getting plastered till sun rise, out wishing he was granted with a better life than the one he's cursed with. A better house, a better family, anything that isn't us.
I want to scold the silly part of me that hoped this is it, the moment he'd finally pat me on the back and see my worth. But I'm smarter than that, to know I will never get his approval or anything more than a cup of whiskey raised to the skies. And I am even sillier for still wishing that at the age of seventeen.
And Mom would never put him in his place. How can she? She's a meek woman, one that tucks him into his bed when he comes back, reeking of alcohol at five in the morning. In moments like this, where his absence leaves plenty of room for the ugly fury to grow inside me, it starts to blindly lash at anyone who will take the hit—my poor mother.
Feeling the resentment seep its way through my stomach, I ask Mom to leave before I shamefully make her carry the burden of my blame. After all, she's the soft peach who allows to be molded and shaped.
She dips her head in guilt. I look away and instead stare hard at the doorway until my vision narrows. She says something in encouragement about joining the school, but I don't hear her. It feels like minutes, hours, but I don't move until she leaves the room with Roan trailing behind her.
