Full Circle

III.

[Ashley King (@msbombshell on Instagram) as Keema Jordan]

III.

The Next Week...

"Y-You're...WHAT?!" My parents yelled in unison.

Before I could repeat myself, my mother lunged at me. I let out a loud cry as she pulled at the root of my hair. My father tried his hardest to pull her off of me.

"MOM!" I cried loudly until my voice began to give out. Her grip on my hair was so tight I was more than sure she'd pull my hair out and maybe even some skin.

"I DIDN'T RAISE A FUCKING SLUT!" My mother yelled, I could faintly hear her cries as she shook me and mushed me into the floor. "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"GET OFF OF HER, LORRAINE!" My father yelled at my mother as he tried to pry her hands from my hair. "YOU ARE GOING TO KILL HER!"

"YOU'RE FUCKING RIGHT I AM!" She snarled as she raised her fists to bring them down to my face. I screamed and cried as loud as I could. Pleading. Pleading for her to have mercy on me.

"Mommy, please have mercy on me..." I managed to get out of my cries.

My father relieved me of my mother's painful grip and pushed me into one corner of the room.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU! I DIDN'T RAISE A HO!" My mother cried trying to attack me again. My father held her down. "Who did this to your stupid, grown, slutty ass?!"

I couldn't see her through my teary eyes and my rustled hair. I didn't know from which direction she'd come from next when I told her the next thing.

"M-Mathew..." I cried immensely. It hurt more to even say his name. The first boy who ever discovered my core and hurt me to my core.

It was silent, but I could hear the disgust in the room from both my parents.

"You mean to tell me that fast ass little boy got you pregnant?!" My father snarled. I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach, and I prayed he wouldn't lunge at me next.

All I could do was nod in shame. An eerie, angry silence filled the room. I was expecting the worst to come next, but praying for the best.

My father shook his head in shame. "You have 48 hours to pack up some clothes and leave this house. You will not raise a child out of wedlock in the Tilden household."

Tears began to fall from my eyes faster. "D-Dad, p-please let me stay!" I pleaded as I ran to him. In the midst of running, I fell hard on my face onto his feet. "I-I-I'm sorry, please let me stay!"

"I can't even stand to look at this little bitch. Get the hell out of my house, pendeja!" My mother spat at me with a full-fledged Cuban accent she kept under wraps under standardized American English. I looked up at her in disbelief. My mother never called me out of my name before, and it hurt to hear.

"M-Mommy..." I cried loudly.

"M-Mommy," She mocked with a vicious chuckle. "That's exactly what that bastard child is gonna call your nasty ass in 9 months!"

"Just go." My father sighed, looking down at me.

I continued to cry as I got up and made my way to the door. I looked back at the two people who promised to never turn their backs on me and love me unconditionally when I was born 16 years ago on the first day of summer in June. Now it was as if their summer baby was their hottest mess.

"I'll be back to get my things." I managed to say through my sobs.

I ran out of the door, unable to suppress my feelings and my tears. I didn't know where to run to or where I was running to, but I know I needed to find refuge as soon as possible. I couldn't see beyond my tears and rustled hair, but I could hear the faint sounds of cars honking and the drivers cursing at me for running into the middle of the street.