Chapter 1

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Layla...

Work. Work. Work. Is all I do. Now your probably wondering what I do for a living. I'm a prostitute. Yes, I do sell my body for money. Ever since my mother died the only other person thats been in my life besides Demetri was Diamond. Diamond was my best friend in the whole wide world. He didn't like the career that I chose but, he understood. My father doesn't have a input on my choice of career. Two reasons. Number one, he never helped my mom provide for me. Number two, he probably doesn't know I exist. I remember my mom told me the story of how she told him he was going to be a father, he tried to beat the baby out of her. But, once I was born, he acted as if I was the world to him, but then soon tried to kill me, after that he vanished and was never seen again.

Flashback...

I remember I was 12. It was in the winter. At school it was bring your dad to school day. I remember seeing all the kids with their dad. While looking around I noticed that all the fathers had all their big hands engulfed around the tiny hand of 101and 12 year olds.

I remember the teacher calling my name. I just shook my head as a no, she got the clue and called onto the next student. I put my head down onto the desk. I had zoned out everybody, or at least I tried, until I heard one of the father's say.

"All we got in this world are dead beat fathers" I knew he was directing that statement towards my father's absence. I stood up with tears in my eyes. For the first time in life I had to defend my father although my father may not be here, don't ever say anything offensive towards my family members.

"Listen, before you talk about my father. Check your background. Because you just got out of jail for murder." I yelled pointing directly at Abigail's father. The biggest secret that Abigail told me I said it. I didn't mean to, but it just came out. You heard plenty of gasping. The teacher had excused me from the classroom, but when I was walking out I looked at Abigail, I couldn't read her face expression. The teacher told me that she would call my mother in order for me to leave school.

After the long day, sitting at the dinner table I had asked a question that I've been wanting to ask, but knew if I asked it I would probably hurt my mothers feelings." Mom where's my dad?"

She looked to her left, which was a square window frame that showed falling tiny white crystals that stuck to the ground. "Layla you know that what is said in the house stays in the house correct?"

"Yes mom" I replied trying to read her through her eyes, but no matter where she looked she would not look my in the eyes. At her shoes, out the window, in the kitchen but never in my eyes.

"Well. ." I said waiting for her to continue with her story.

"Well one day your father and I were very young. I was ..." You could tell that by the way she was talking that this story was eating her alive inside. As she would try to remember her face would fidget, and cringe. Whether out of anger, or maybe even love.

"17... I was 17, yes very young. Now what I'm about to tell you, is something your not going to do at that age you understand?" I nodded a 'yes'. In satisfaction of my answer she nodded afterwards, with each nods her face would get closer to facing the window.

"Me and your father had sex" I know I was young but, my mom thought that as a young lady I should know, but that's a story for another day.

"When I found out I was pregnant, I went straight to him. He told me that he couldn't supply for the three of us, and that I needed to find my way. I tried to find a job, but no one was going to hire a pregnant woman. I did the only thing I could. Prostitute.

When I was giving labor he was right there holding my hand and all. Miracle child is what I would call you. One day your father tried to kill you while you were still in the hospital. The doctors say if they would've came a minute later you would've been gone. Afterwards I didn't hear anything from or about him until the following week. Your dad had a bad business day. Yes as a drug dealer. No... no a Drug lord the word around town was that his last words were 'tell my daughter I'm sorry and I love her'"

By the time she was done we both were in tears. I was crying because I never saw my mother in this state. She was the strong black woman that I wanted to be one day, but came to the realization that maybe my mom was just too good.

"I loved him"

"Mom I love you"

Hey guys I'm really excited of how my book is coming along. But! I still believe I can do better. I love you guys ❤💯. Expect an update maybe every other week. It takes a long time to come up with ideas. Like and comment.

I'm Pregnant...Dove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora