by Paige Green
He checked each room, making sure there wasn’t anyone home except for Corrine.
When he was sure she was the only one in the house, he walked into her bedroom. Corrine, who was sound asleep, awoke from the sounds of the floor creaking. She clutched her teddy bear tightly as she looked into Day’onne’s coal eyes.
“Please don’t do this,” Corrine cried.
Day’onne ignored her as he began to undress and climbed in the bed with her. She lay on top of her twin-sized mattress, eyes closed tightly and trembling in fear. She felt his cold hands grip at her ankles before forcefully spreading her legs apart. He yanked her Barbie gown above her waist and ripped her underwear off.
Her legs shook as she tried to remain calm. She held her hands between her legs, struggling to control her bladder. But before she knew it, it got the best of her, and she peed on herself.
“You nasty bitch,” Day’onne said, backhanding her.
Tears tumbled down her cheeks as her face jerked forcefully to the left.
Day’onne ignored her cries and cupped his hands over her mouth, muffling her screams. He positioned himself between her legs and forcefully penetrated her.
Corrine released a low, painful moan as she shifted under him and tried to kick him off of her, but it was to no avail. He held her arms over her head and continued to rape her.
His face was the mask of a demon as he stared into her eyes, loving the pain he brought with each violating stroke. She closed her eyes tightly, avoiding eye contact. Realizing once again that her struggling and cries wouldn’t save her, all the fight she had left in her body evaporated. She withdrew into herself and imagined she was somewhere else.
When he finished, he leaned over and whispered into her ear. “You know you enjoyed that shit, you dirty hoe. Remember what I always told you, you ain’t shit but a hoe.”
He collapsed on top of her small body and lay there for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath. Silent and in pain, she watched her brother climb off of her, put his clothes back on, and calmly walk out of her bedroom.
She curled into a fetal position as an agonizing scream escaped from her lips. A few minutes later, she collected all of the strength she had within and climbed out of her bed. Stepping out of her bloody pajama dress, she threw it into the closet and grabbed a towel before wrapping it around her. Painfully walking out of her bedroom and into the bathroom, she winced in pain with every step she took and closed the door behind her.
Unwrapping the towel from around herself and turning the sink on, she dampened it before taking a bar of soap and lathering the towel. A slew of tears cascaded down her cheeks as she spread her legs and rubbed the damp cloth between them. Her chest heaving with sobs, she turned the sink off, wrapped the towel back around her body, and walked out of the bathroom.
“What happened to you?” Deion asked when she came out.
Deion, who’d just gotten back from playing basketball with Jarell, heard her crying in the bathroom as he was making his way to his bedroom.
When she looked up at him, he saw that she was distraught as he walked closer to her, but she backed away in fear.
“Please don’t hurt me, Day’onne!” she cried.
Deion’s heart almost broke into pieces as a tear escaped from his eyes. “Corrine, it’s me, Deion! What did he do to you, girl?” he asked, wiping his eyes.
Blinded by her tears, her body started to shudder as she collapsed to the floor. Deion walked over, picked her up, and carried her to her room. He felt her tense up when he gently placed her into her bed. When he noticed the blood stains in her bed, he asked, “What happened?”
“He hurt me, Deion. He hurt me down there,” she said, pointing at her vagina.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Corrine? Why didn’t you tell me or Melissa?” he asked as he clenched his jaw.
“He said he’ll kill me! Please don’t tell Momma! Please, he’s going to kill me!” she yelled in fear before grabbing Deion by his arm and shaking it.
He took a deep breath, digesting everything she’d confessed to him. “I have to tell! He’s going to keep hurting you if I don’t!”
“But he said he’ll kill me. Please don’t tell!”
Blinded by anger, he balled his hands into tight fists before punching numerous holes into the wall, instantly drawing blood.
Corrine’s loud screams brought him back to reality.
“Stop! Please stop!” she cried, wrapping her arms around her head and burying her face into her lap.
He dropped his head into his hands before walking back to Corrine.
“You can’t tell, Deion! He’ll kill me. Please promise,” she cried.
Taking a deep breath and mustering all the strength he had in his body, he nodded. “Okay, I won’t tell. I promise.”
Reaching out her hand, she said, “Pinky swear?”
“Pinky swear,” Deion said, wrapping his pinky finger around hers.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Melissa arrived at Asbury Heights Nursing Home Facility in Bower Hill, Pennsylvania around three in the afternoon. She wore a floral, ankle-length dress with a pink cardigan sweater. Stepping out of her old station wagon, she took a deep breath as she walked inside and signed in.
When she finally made her way to her mother’s front door, she paused to mentally and physically prepare herself for what was behind it. Her mother, Yolanda, who was battling liver cancer, gazed up at Melissa as she walked through the door. Melissa scanned the room, looking at pictures of her and her mother when she was younger. When her eyes roamed to her mother, her lips quivered and hands trembled as she scooted up a nearby chair next to her bed.
“Hey, Momma.”
Yolanda tried her best to smile, but it was to no avail. She was in too much pain.
“How are you? Everything’s good at home. The twins are getting bigger and so is Corrine. Corrine is beautiful. Remember Corrine?”
Yolanda nodded and Melissa continued, “Momma, I’m trying my best to keep you in here and take care of the kids. It’s getting hard, it really is. With crazy Day’onne out here robbing everybody and their momma, to the government trying to cut my welfare checks, it’s getting hard, Momma!”
“Pray, baby,” Yolanda said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Pray? But Momma, I do that all the time! I can’t take it! I’m getting too old for this, Momma! I can’t take it!” Melissa said before dropping her head into her hands and crying.
All of her life, she’d helped people, putting their needs before hers, and it was finally getting to her. She never had a real man in her life and never knew what the true feeling of happiness felt like. Since she would be approaching fifty soon, she wanted to finally settle down and be happy, but that was only in her dreams.
Yolanda struggled to speak. “Baby . . .God is going to bless . . .you.”
Melissa slowly lifted her head up to look into her mother’s eyes.
“He loves you, baby. Keep your faith.”
Taking heed of her mother’s words, she wiped her tears and forced herself to smile. Yolanda, who had been battling the deadly disease for two years, weakly held her daughter’s hand. If anyone recognized pain, it was definitely her.
She had been raised in poverty and tried her best to keep her faith and belief in God through all of the trials and tribulations she’d gone through in this cruel world.
Raped by her father and abused by her mother all of her life, Yolanda had done whatever it took to survive in the streets of Pittsburgh. When she got pregnant at sixteen by a man she had sex with one night, who later disappeared, her mother kicked her out of her house, forcing her to live in the streets. While she was pregnant with Melissa, she prostituted her body in order to save up enough money to get her a house. When a friend of the family finally agreed to rent her a house up Northview, she felt blessed. When Melissa was born, she raised her daughter the right way, making sure she always had respect for not only herself, but for other people, too.
Looki
ng at Yolanda, Melissa couldn’t help but think that the clock was ticking. Every day, she got a call from the nursing home, alerting her that Yolanda’s health was steadily decreasing. When she was finally ready to leave, she kissed her mother goodbye.
When Melissa arrived back up Northview, in a much better mood, she was smiling and feeling good. Pulling her keys from her purse, she unlocked her door and stepped into her apartment. Finding it unusually dark and cold, she felt uneasy.
“Twins? Corrine?” she yelled, but no one answered.
As she walked toward the light switch to turn on the light, a pair of large, beastly hands wrapped around her slim neck.
“Where’s the rest of them at?” Jewels asked, staring into Melissa’s eyes.
Fear gripped her as she gasped for air. When he let go of her neck and tossed her onto the sofa, she coughed uncontrollably and tears streamed from her eyes. She sat on the couch, trying to catch her breath and grasp the whole situation.
“Why are you here? What do you want?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Your boy got himself into some trouble, and now he has to pay the price. Where the fuck is he at?” Jewels asked impatiently.
“I don’t know! I just got here! Please don’t hurt my babies!” Melissa cried.
“I’m sorry, Melissa, but he’s played a dangerous game and he has to pay the price.”
“What do you—”
Before Melissa had a chance to utter another word, Jewels lifted his .45 caliber, aimed it at her chest and pulled the trigger.
The bullet ripped right through her heart, instantly killing her.
Deion and Corrine sat in the front pew of the church in Brighton Heights, bawling their eyes out. It had been more than a week since the death of Melissa, and she was finally being laid to rest. Dressed in a long, black dress with red flowers that Melissa had bought her a long time ago and her hair flat-ironed, Corrine held Deion’s hand, weeping and sniffling up the snot that was threatening to seep out of her nose. Deion, who was dressed in an all-black suit, shook his head in disbelief as he prayed to God to send the only mother he’d ever known back to him. The church was filled to capacity, the majority of different communities in the city coming together to pay their last respects to Melissa. She had undoubtedly made a special impact on everyone’s lives that showed their faces in the church. Melissa, who was being laid to rest in her favorite lime-green cardigan sweater and ankle-length skirt, appeared peaceful in the silver-plated casket.
“Where’s Day’onne?” Melissa’s neighbor whispered into Deion’s ear.
Deion shrugged, instantly angered by the mention of Day’onne’s name.
Something in the pit of his soul told him that Day’onne was the reason his mother was no longer breathing. Anything from him having stacks of money in the duffle bags to him wreaking havoc on the entire Northview could’ve made someone yearn to take Melissa’s life.
When the preacher finally delivered the eulogy and the crowd made its way to dinner, Deion grabbed Corrine by the hand and walked toward the casket. He mentally tried to prepare himself to get one last look at his hero, but when he looked at Melissa, seeing the serene look on her face, he wanted to break down and cry.
Corrine, who couldn’t take it anymore, collapsed into his arms, her body shaking before she released a loud, mournful cry. He tried his best to keep his composure, but he also collapsed onto the floor, wailing out tears of pure anguish. They felt as if without Melissa, they didn’t have anybody but themselves.
“Come on, baby girl, we got to get it together,” Deion whispered into Corrine’s ear as he wiped his tears away and stood up.
She nodded as he she stood as well. Walking toward the front entrance of the church, they noticed an older white woman with a policeman behind her.
“Hello, are you Corrine Johnson and Deion Jenkins?” she asked.
“Who wants to know?” Deion asked cautiously.
“I’m Diane Puchiarelli from Child Protective Services. Both of you need to come with me. Isn’t there another one?”
The mention of CPS panicked Deion. Without hesitation, he grabbed Corrine by the arms and raced past Ms. Puchiarelli and the policeman. Both turned around and took off after them. Fleeing the church and hitting the corner, Deion and Corrine stopped and glanced around when several policemen surrounded them.
Turning around, Deion saw Ms. Puchiarelli behind him. “Run, Corrine!” he yelled, releasing her hand. But it was too late. Ms. Puchiarelli already had the little girl in her arms, ready to take her away.
CHAPTER NINE
EIGHT YEARS LATER . . .
“Corrine, hurry up! You’re going to get us caught,” sixteen-year-old Mercedes fussed.
She nervously glanced around the Giant Eagle grocery store, making sure no one was aware of their activities. Corrine ignored Mercedes as she continued to carelessly throw any type of food she laid her eyes on into the duffle bag draped around her waist. Mercedes’ heart slammed into her chest when she saw an employee speaking into a walkie-talkie, alerting his boss that two teenagers were shoplifting.
“C’mon, Corrine, we got to get out of here!” she yelled, grabbing Corrine by the wrist.
Both teens ran through the aisles, trying to get out of the grocery store without being caught.
“Aye, stop right now!” one of the store managers yelled as he ran after them.
Corrine looked behind her and saw he was right on her heels.
“He’s coming!” she yelled, clutching the duffle bag full of food even tighter.
They were almost out the door when she was tackled to the ground. She moaned in pain as the fat manager grabbed her by her arms, forcing her to her feet.
Mercedes, who was already out of the door, glanced behind her and realized Corrine wasn’t there. When she ran back into the store, she saw the manager leading her into a back room.
“Hold up; it was me, too!” she yelled, getting the manager’s attention. “I stole the food as well!”
Corrine flashed a smile at her best friend as the manager led them both into the back room. Taking the duffle bag out of Corrine’s hand, the manager frowned as he dumped the food onto a nearby table. Corrine and Mercedes sat next to each other, holding their heads low as he called the police.
“What do you two have to say for yourselves?” he finally asked.
He looked at the two rough-looking teens, feeling both pity and animosity toward them at the same time. He would not tolerate theft on his watch. Corrine, who was dressed in a torn and dingy white T-shirt, skimpy blue jean shorts, and had on a pair of torn Reebok Classics, sat in the chair with her arms crossed under her breasts, staring up at the ceiling.
She inhaled air, puffing out her cheeks as she moved her eyes, glancing at one side of the room and then the other. Sighing, she began to tap her foot impatiently.
Mercedes, who was dressed in a pair of ripped-up jeans, a faded black shirt, and torn tennis shoes, sat in the seat, shaking her leg, glancing around the room, and running her fingers through her hair.
“We’re sorry, sir. Please let us go. We promise we won’t do it again!” she begged, a single tear trickling down her cheek.
“I’m sorry, young ladies, but if you do the crime, you must do the time.” He shrugged.
Twenty minutes later, when a policeman finally arrived, he placed both Corrine and Mercedes in handcuffs before stuffing them into the back of his car.
Feeling humiliated and gripped with embarrassment, tears continued to escape from Mercedes’ eyes throughout the entire ride. When they pulled into the parking lot at the police station, they stepped out of the car and entered into the building. Corrine shrugged as she took a seat and waited patiently for their next punishment.
“What are your names?” a policewoman, Officer Williams, asked, taking a seat in front of the two girls.
“Mer . . .mer . . .cedes,” she stammered.
Corrine, who had her arms folded under her breasts, rolled her eyes and glance
d at Mercedes.
“Okay, Ms. Mercedes, and what is your name?” Officer Williams asked, looking at Corrine.
“Why the fuck you want to know?” Corrine asked.
Officer Williams, a beautiful black woman who wore her hair shortly cropped and had an aura as soft as an angel, stared at Corrine, shaking her head in pity. She already knew their names because they had been printed and run through the system. She was simply trying to make conversation and get them to open up.
Working in her profession for the past five years of her life, she had seen many at-risk teenagers that emulated the ones currently in front of her. Instead of going off and yelling in their faces like the other female officers would’ve, she remained calm.
She looked Corrine directly into her eyes. “Sweetie, all I want to know is your name. Why all the hostility? I’m here to help you get out of this little sticky situation you two got yourselves into. I can tell them to send you up to Shuman Detention Center for theft and you’d be fined for stealing over three hundred dollars’ worth of food, but, instead, I’m going to be nice. So, if you want my help, all I ask for you is to be respectful and honest and I’ll return the love.”
Corrine exhaled loudly, rolled her eyes, and started tapping her feet again.
“Okay, Ms. Thang, let’s try this again. But this time, I want you to cut the attitude and look me directly into my eyes and tell me your name,” Officer Williams said firmly.
Unfolding her arms from her chest and staring Officer Williams directly in her eyes, Corrine snottily said, “My name is Corrine. Are you fucking happy now?”
Shaking her head in disbelief, Officer Williams made a mental note to check her for her profanity later. Deciding to leave the situation alone for now, she flipped through Mercedes’ and Corrine’s records she’d retrieved moments ago. Taking heed of the petty theft charges from not only stealing groceries, but clothes as well, she silently set their folders down.
She scanned their worn-out clothing, knowing they had to be doing what they were doing to survive.
