Page 8 of Ravaged By the Dark

She blinked back the tears as Josh headed her way, her mother yelling in the background, but all she could hear was that he’d never seen her as his daughter. She ran for the back door and streaked across the backyard, clutching J.J. to her chest. She didn’t stop until she was out of breath and couldn’t run any longer. There was a park not far away, so she wandered until she found the park’s arched gate that proudly displayed the name and sat down on one of the benches. J.J. hadn’t made a sound even with all the screaming and running. As she took in his chubby cheeks and bright, cheery eyes, she couldn’t help but smile back. She ran a finger down the side of his cheek, loving the peach fuzz softness.

“You’ll always have me,” she whispered.

By the time she made her way home, Josh was gone, and her mother had passed out, surrounded by alcohol bottles on the couch. That was the last time she allowed herself to count on anyone. People sucked, and they always hurt you.

Renee awoke in the darkened room and felt J.J.’s warm little form tucked into her side. She watched the sliver of light slowly bathe the room in a golden hue, and it hurt her tear-swollen eyes. She’d waited until J.J. was sound asleep before she let herself cry anymore, but when she did, she let out all the pent-up emotion from wounds past and present. She didn’t want J.J. to see her like that. He already worried more than any four-year-old should. She stared at his sweet cherub cheeks and smiled as she remembered him trying to comfort her.

Quietly, she snuck from bed and tucked J.J. in tight with his teddy before checking the house once more for a note of any kind. Something that would say what the hell had prompted their mom to take off the way she did.

When she reached the bathroom, all of her mother’s things were gone. The drawers were empty, towels, toilet paper, you name it, and it was MIA. Everything from the medicine cabinet above the mirror was gone, including J.J.’s cold and cough medicine.

Nice Mom.

She pulled back the cheap shower curtain, and once more, all was missing. On closer inspection of her mother’s room, the only thing left behind was a shoebox. She reached up onto her tiptoes to grab the thing off the top shelf. Like she was in a slow-mo movie clip, she watched her hands slowly open the lid.

Fucking smiling faces, birthday cakes, and family milestones greeted her. Sliding down the wall, she sat with the simple black box on her lap displaying the Nike symbol and flipped through the old memories. Renee pulled out the only picture of her and her mother and father before her life had been turned into this shit show.

She rubbed at the image as if it might somehow magically take her back in time to when they were a family, an actual family. Anger burned in her chest, taking the place of her sadness. They were both fucking weak. Her father was white and came from a family that was…well, let’s just say that black was not a skin color they appreciated.

Her father proclaimed he didn’t give a shit and married her mother anyway. According to her mother, he vowed that he didn’t care if he ever saw a dime from his family. But when times got tough, and they didn’t have food on the table or hot running water, it was amazing what part of his soul he was willing to sell.

Renee ripped the stupid picture in two, the jagged line running down the middle of her face. She tossed both pieces back in the box, slamming the lid in place. If it weren’t for the fact these were the only pictures J.J. would have of his mother, she would burn the whole fucking box.

Renee quickly showered, got dressed, and then roused J.J. from bed. He moaned and tried to pull the blankets tighter around him, burying his head like a turtle. He was surprisingly strong for such a small child, and she ended up in a tug-o-war with the comforter until finally, she won, and he sat up pouting. That pouty bottom lip pushed out while he crossed his arms over his chest in the cutest look of defiance she’d ever seen.

“I’m pretty sure you said you wanted pancakes this morning.” She smiled wide as the pout began to fade. “And I was thinking we should go to the beach…once we put the groceries away and you’ve had your pancakes.” She held up the famous mother finger. “But only if you get up right now and we get going.”

“You da best!” J.J. hollered as he bounced his way out of the bed and ran for his side of the closet. She’d always been short on space even with her sparse wardrobe, so on the bright side, with her mother gone, she could have her own room now.

“I already got you some clothes.” She held out the pile. He took it from her and ran for the bathroom, closing the door. “Don’t lock the door. We had this talk,” Renee called.

“I won’t.”

“If you need me, just yell. I’m going downstairs.” Most people would help a four-year-old get dressed, but J.J. didn’t need help.

His upbringing forced him to grow up way too quickly. Their mother would leave him in the same clothes all week if it weren’t for Renee teaching J.J. how to get dressed and choose a complete outfit.

Now he acted like a moody teen and wanted to use the bathroom like a big boy. She could see the embarrassment in his eyes whenever he had to ask for help. It broke her heart that she couldn’t be around all day for him, but now—shit, was she going to have to give up her college courses? No, she’d find a way. She needed to stay in school.

Renee leaned against the counter, her stomach loudly announcing she hadn’t eaten in a very long time.

“I’m ready, Nae Nae.” Renee turned and had to admit she was impressed—not a single thing was on wrong.

“Alright, kid, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“We have popsicles,” J.J. asked, his eyes lighting up.

She laughed a little. “No, but we’ll get some of those today too.”

By lunchtime, they had put away all the groceries, purchased a new door handle she was determined to figure out how to install on the front door, and eaten so many pancakes that they were both groaning. Today was a day for treating themselves and some self-soothing. So instead of going to the sketchy local beach, they were currently sitting on the bus heading to the posh side of the city—the side of the city she planned to live in one day. J.J. stared out the window, his head laying on his arms as they watched the buildings going by.

“This is our stop.” She stood, and he took her hand.

She was very aware of the other passengers watching them leave, and she knew by the raised eyebrows and dirty glances what they were thinking. She was just another statistic, another twenty-one-year-old that got knocked up at sixteen, just another poor black girl on the wrong path. Well, all those judgemental fuckers could suck it.

J.J held her hand and skipped as they walked down the street. He was at the age that things like cracks in the sidewalk still held amusement, and she was at the age that she felt their tax money was going to waste.

They neared the mouth of the beach’s entrance, and she let go of his hand so he could run and play in the warm sand. He grabbed handfuls and threw it in the air, making her squeal as she dodged the raining granules.