Little Things

Prologue

“Raya, come help us with the boxes. Bring them up into the spare room.” My mother is so organized and she can never have anything out of place. I groan loudly, bend down, and pick up a heavy-ass box. “Yes, mother.” I make my way into the house and upstairs, only to trip on the steps. The box crashes to the ground and the glasses inside make a cracking noise. “Shit, I hope he didn’t hear that.” I look around to see if Craig is nearby. Luckily, I don’t see him anywhere and breathe a sigh of relief. I get up to inspect the box; it looks like a few of the picture frames cracked. Damn, I’ll need to hide them and replace them before Craig finds out. I make my way into my room and hide the broken frames in my dresser, underneath my folded shirts. I hurry over to the spare room and leave the box just inside the door. My mother can go through its contents and put them where they belong. I hate moving. This is our third move in two years. Our last location was Connecticut and apparently Craig thinks that living in The Bronx will be better for us. The crowds will help him blend. My mom married Craig when I was ten, a few years after my dad died. Craig takes care of everything—the bills, the food, and the location of where we live. He decides everything for us. My only free choice is my choice of appearance. I guess I can be grateful I get to pick out my own clothes. I head back downstairs to help my mom and Craig with the remaining boxes. “What took so long?” he asks as I pick up the final box. “Nothing, I was just looking around.” His dark eyes pierce into my soul as he tries to figure out if I’m lying or not. I feel his stare on me and cringe. He makes me so uncomfortable and my skin begins to crawl. Goose bumps begin to appear on my skin and the hair on my arm sticks up. I quickly look away and make my way inside the house. “Raya, head upstairs and fix up your room. I’ll call you down for dinner when it’s ready.” Craig comes up from behind me and takes the box away with a sly look on his face. “Okay, sure. Just let me know.” I race up the stairs and shut my door. Bouncing on top of my twin-size bed, I stare at the ceiling. I can’t wait until I turn eighteen and move the hell out of this place. If I can, I’m taking my mother with me. Craig treats me like shit, but he treats my mother even worse. Everything has to be his way, and if you have a problem with it, then he makes you see his way. My mother doesn’t deserve to be with him, but I know she’s too scared to leave. Throughout the years, the occasional yelling turned into daily arguments which escalated into fights and broken household items. I’m not even sure if she loves him anymore; I doubt it. How can she? Craig is a monster. He pulls off this facade that everything is fine. His peers and colleagues have no idea what happens at home. A shallow tear escapes the corner of my eye and trickles down the side of my face. “Just one more year, Raya. Just one more year,” I coach myself to hold on to hope, never giving up faith that my mother and I can escape this prison. I turn over and lie on my side and close my eyes to dream of a place where I can be free to do anything I desire. In my dream, I’m able to have friends, go out on dates, and even go see a movie every now and then. “Raya!! Time for dinner. Get down here, now!” My eyes shoot open at the sound of Craig’s demand. A quick glance out the window tells me it has gotten darker. Shit, I must have fallen asleep. Jumping off my bed, I race to the bathroom and wash my face. I can’t look like I’ve napped without permission. Quickly grabbing a towel and drying my face, I glance in the mirror and do a quick inspection of my appearance. My long, brown hair has curls touching my midback and I comb my fingers through it to take out the frizz. My blue eyes look heavy and glassy—like I’ve just woken up. Shit! I glance down to see my light blue shirt wrinkled. Fuck! Racing to my dresser, I pull out a new shirt and quickly change. Inspecting myself in the mirror one last time, I pray that it’s good enough. I hurry out of the room and downstairs to meet them in the dining room. The table is already set and Craig is sitting at one end. My mother is patiently waiting to eat in the seat next to him. “Well, what took you so long this time?” Craig asks. He folds his arms across his chest and I can practically see his face turn a dark red. I look down at the table and talk with a low and feeble voice, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long. It won’t happen again.” “What were you doing in your room?” He insists on getting to the bottom of this. “Craig, please, let’s just eat. The food is getting cold,” my mother pleads with him and touches his arm, offering a kind gesture. I sit next to her and stare at Craig who is glaring at my mother. “Genna, I didn’t ask you to say anything. Your daughter is not responding to my question, and frankly, I want to know why.” He glares at me and I still with fear. I can’t get the words out as my throat begins to close and I feel the tears building. He quickly retreats from his chair and heads up the stairs toward my room. My mother and I rush behind him. Craig enters my room, and as I enter behind him, I notice my dresser drawer is open. Craig sees the open drawer and heads toward it. My breathing stops as I begin to panic. The broken frames are in there. Shit. Turning to my mom, I plead for her to make him stop. She gives me a look, nods, and grabs hold of my hand; she’s on my side. Craig dives into the open drawer and starts tossing around my folded shirts. “Craig, sweetie, let’s go eat dinner. Raya will clean this up afterward, okay?” She lets go of my hand and walks up behind Craig, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Genna, shut the fuck up or I will make you!” he growls as he finds a broken frame. He stops digging and takes out the shattered glass. It’s a picture of him and my mother at Atlantic City. “What happened, Raya?” he barks at me. I gain the last shred of courage I have and respond, “I tripped on the stairs with the boxes earlier. I plan on fixing the frames; honestly.” He takes the frame and throws it across the room, shattering it against the wall. The glass sprays all across the floor as I jump from the noise. “Craig, it was an accident. Raya will pay for the other frames. Let’s just forget about this,” my mother pleads with Craig as he stalks toward me. She gets in between us and puts her hands up to him. “Craig, stop! It was an accident!” I begin to cry because I know what’s coming for me. Suddenly, he stops walking toward me. He then looks at my mother and slaps her across the face, causing her to fall onto the broken glass. “I told you to shut the fuck up, woman! How dare you defy me?” I rush to my mom and help her get up. “Mom, are you okay?” She glances at me and has blood dripping down the side of her cheek and her hand is cut. “I’m fine, honey, promise.” No, this is not fine. I stare at Craig who is chuckling with evil laughter. “How dare you touch her? You have no right to hit a woman. I’m calling the police!” Letting go of my mother, I pull my cell phone out of my jeans pocket. Craig snatches the phone and snarls into my ear, “You call the police and I will hurt her for real next time.” My body is frozen with shock and fear. I glance up into his eyes and realize he’s not lying. He will hurt her if I call for help. I can’t be the reason for my mother’s pain; I will not cause it. Living without my mother is not an option and I will do everything I can to help her. “Okay, I won’t call them,” I surrender. With just a few steps, I’m next to my mother and assisting her off the floor. She needs to get cleaned up before the blood dries. “Come on, let’s go clean you up.” Gently holding her shoulders, I lead her to my bathroom. Suddenly, Craig pulls her from my grasp. “Actually, I’m not done with your mother”. My heart stops and my jaw drops. “What! You said you wouldn’t hurt her!” He grabs hold of my hair and tosses me onto the bed. “Don’t worry, Raya, I don’t plan on hurting her”. He chuckles as he exits the room with my mother in his grip and shuts the door. I bolt to the door and try to pull it open, but it’s locked. I pull and pull but it doesn’t budge open. Shit. He must have added locks when I was asleep. Banging on the door, I call out to her, “Mom! Mom!!” My crying screams echo throughout my room and all I hear is silence.