Brooklyn Chronicles: Save our Sons and Daughters

Chapter Two

“I wanna be like you man.” The young boy sulked rubbing his head. “Lil man is that your mama?” Tank pointed at a woman who didn’t look amused to see her son hanging with a thug. She had her hairnet on and a night gown with her house slippers. She was thick in every part of her body and she struggled to run, the best she could do was to walk fast with an irregular breathing pattern. She didn’t let that stop her and the belt in her hand showed her determination to teach her son a lesson.

“No mama, no.” He jumped from the wall grabbing his bag and sprinting for his life. Tank chuckled watching the woman chase her son down the streets like a headless chicken.

On the other side of Brooklyn, near Downtown, a woman was coming out of a subway. The station was filled with thousands of faces, faces of every kind and people spilled out like ants crowding the station. People rushed up and down stairs from business people, mothers, fathers, domestic workers and the part time hustlers and full time single mothers. A woman dressed in a suit of grey sweatpants, a grey hoodie and stained Reebooks rushed through the crowd trying to get to a destination. Her hood was up and her head was down, every now and then a hard shoulder bumped into hers and led her to bump into another. She was getting frustrated at the repeated cycle of bumping into different people and being pushed through the crowd of people as if she was a sailing particle in a trapped container. One push was her last straw, her hood slipped off her head and it was left slung on her back. She thought about placing her knuckles clothed in an army of gold rings in the man’s face, but his quick apology stopped her from losing her cool in public. She gave him a look continuing her journey and taking a turn away from the early morning rush hour of people.

Her feet led her into a building, the glass automatic doors slid to the right, she stood at the desk passing her appointment card to the receptionist. She kept her head down avoiding any eye contact with the young woman sat behind the desk.

“Please, take a seat.” She pointed at the empty seats in the room. Santanna turned around going to take a seat in the waiting area. She was full of nerves and they were visible from her constant bright pink acrylics tapping her teeth. She played with the big dirty blonde curls in her hair and everything to occupy time until it didn’t entertain her.

Her eyes scanned the room, the posters and the signs, she had seen it all before and this place was different from the old.

It was different like the other one and she liked it. There were less people, less eyes and less judgement. There were no dehumanising comments from the receptionist or women around her and she felt more comfortable.

“Miss Santanna Santos?” A tanned woman came into the waiting area looking at Santanna. Santanna nodded getting up from the seat and following the woman into a room. She took a deep breath hoping this was the right decision.

Within thirty minutes she came out of the room and she bumped into a female coming out of the room. “Sorry.” She apologised looking at Santanna. Santanna’s face was covered in a blank emotion. “Are you ok?” She asked her with care. 

Santanna stood still in her position looking at the woman, she had clear milk chocolate skin, she had wavy full and healthy hair. She had the perfect figure, a slim waist and curves to match her frame.

She recognised her, it was her. It was the woman from the other day, the woman who she had caught talking to Blue and the same woman she had attacked. The woman’s facial expression changed and her eyes said it all.

 Santanna pushed past her and ran out of the abortion clinic.

“What did you manage to get for breakfast?” Tank asked looking at his 6’6 brother Izzy clothed in black from head to toe. His ginger long dreadlocks swayed from side to side as he danced to the music coming from Tank’s headphones. “Some bread, milk, Cinnamon squares, turkey bacon and a box full of eggs.” He dropped the box to one side waving his arms. He bent his knees, gang signs were up and he was feeling the beat.

“Did you steal it from the corner store?” He asked. An evil smirk was visible on Izzy’s face, “Of course.” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pockets. Theo, their other brother came to meet them with a large box full of stolen goods in his arms.

“Ayeeeee.” The three cheered dancing to the beat.

In the basement, the following morning, the family were asleep, so fast asleep they didn’t hear the car outside. 

A young black woman stepped out of her Monaco blue BMW ActiveHybrid 7 and she made sure it was locked. She walked to the house that was once her grandfather’s, it was now in her name. Her designer red bottom heels made a clicking noise as she made her way into her home. Her long black wavy hair was hung past her shoulders and her face was looked like it belonged on the cover of Ebony magazine. She was dressed in a formal attire of a pencil skirt and a chiffon blouse.

She walked into old and abandoned home, her feet came to a stop before the basement locked door. The door had been locked for years and strangely, she could hear shuffling and unlike any other person, she didn’t run, she wanted to know who was there. She slowly opened the door and she switched on the light.

Her eyes remained still as the family of six held knives at her, every type of blade was held in her face, from a pocket knife to a samurai machete knife. One wrong move could cost her life.

“W-who are you people?” She stumbled trying not to scream for help.

“Who the f*ck are you?” Tank spat holding the machete closer to her face, she couldn’t answer him, especially with that blade in her face.

“I said who are you?” Tank’s pupils became dark. “M-Malaika, Malaika Hayes.” She gulped out loud.

“T-This is my grandfather’s house, who-who are you?” Malaika spoke breathing heavily.