©Copyright of Asia Rowe.
"-I'm not a bitch. I'm not a hoe. I'm not a slut. But Ima get this dough.-"
He had left. After what seemed like hours the bad man was gone. He had beat my mother and tried to touch me again. I didn't let him. I never do.
This seemed to anger my mother. She told me to let him touch me, so she wouldn't have to pay him. He was her pimp. He was old and smelt of rotten cheese. His skin was the color of coal and cold. His fingers were rough and ashy. I didn't like him.
He would try to sneak into my room at night, but I would always wake up and blow my rape whistle.
I never gave that freak the satisfaction of ever laying one of his dirty sausage like fingers on my smooth caramel skin.
"-MyKai?-" My mother called from her room. I sighed, knowing my mother, she was probably drunk. I rose from my small mattress that lay in the corner of my room and tip toed to my mothers room.
The beaten down house that we lived in was, well beaten down. The old wooden floors creaked each time I took a step. My mother's room was close to mine so I wouldn't have to endure the creaking for long.
I entered my mother's room. It was a mess, like always. Cigarette buds were sprawled on the floor along with used condoms and beer cans.
I didn't want to look at my mother. I couldn't help but feel responsible for the beating she endured earlier tonight.
I finally let my eyes meet my mother. The sight of her looked pathetic. Pitiful. She looked weak. Being weak in this world that we lived in was a no-no. She had taught me that.
She lay in her bed, completely naked. Her dark skin was covered in sweat and bruises lay upon her chocolate body. Her face held a black eye with a busted lip. Her weave looked like it had been pulled and was knotted.
"-Mum... Look at you.-" I choked out. My mother was beautiful, don't get me wrong, but she hadn't been taking care of herself.
"-A few cuts and bruises won't kill anyone, baby.-" My mother chuckled. "-It's the small price I have to pay to protect my beautiful princess.-" I looked down at my toes avoiding her gaze.
"-Did he touch you?-" My mother said taking a swig from her beer can.
I shook my head no. "-I wouldn't let him.-"My mother scoffed and lit her cigarette.
"-My MyKai, always so stubborn.-" She blew a cloud of smoke in my direction. "-You know you can't stop him, right? You can try to avoid him, but he'll get you. Just like he got me. And when he does get you, you'll see. Your not so different from me. From the rest of the prostitutes in dirty London. You'll be fucking for money soon. Just like I did when I was your age. You'll see.-" She finished taking another pull from her fag.
"-No I won't see. I'm not like you, or anyone for that matter. I'm myself. I'm MyKai.-"
My mother just laughed. Laughing. I hated it. I never laugh. It wasn't necessary. It was a waste of breath. Besides, nothing was ever funny in the life I lived.
"-Stop laughing at me!-" My mothers mouth snapped shut. She held a playful smirk on her brown lips. Everything about my mum was brown. Her skin, her eyes, her hair, her heart.
"-C'mon baby. I was just having some fun.-" She cooed giggling after. My imagination kicked in as I pictured myself strangling her as she laughed. Ha! Now that was humorous.
"-MyKai!-" I snapped out of my playful imagination and listened to my mother. "-Go down to the market and get me a case of beer. You know the one I like. Flirt with the man at the counter so he could give it to you for cheap.-" I rolled my eyes at my mother. She was convinced that sex helped everything. It didn't.
My mother handed me change from her drawer. I looked at it and scoffed. She had only given me three pounds. I didn't dare ask her for more. I'll just take the rest from my personal stash.
I hated walking in the ghetto. It was dirty and reeked of cheap purfume. Probably from the dirty hookers that were littering the place. All of the buildings were beaten down and the streets were filled with bums.
The drug dealers puffed on their cigarettes and the police did too. Kids scurried home and parents watched from the gated windows.
I didn't speak to any of my 'neighbors'. They weren't exactly people friendly. Half of them hated me because I thought of myself as a well rounded individual. I presented myself with dignity and respect. Unlike the scum they were used to.
I once had friends. Amber. She was nice. White. That's why people over here didn't like me, because I had a white friend. She was tall and slim. She had warm brown eyes and the sweetest smile God could've made. I still cry over her.
She was walking home one day from school. She lived close by. A couple of hooligans snatched her into an alley and raped her. Her body was found in a garbage can. Her head was found in another. They never found out who did it. Or why at that. Amber was good. Sweet. But they had to take her from me. She was only fifteen. She was just a baby.
I shook my head at the sad, gruesome memories. I try to rid myself of Amber. She was just one of my friends that I lost to the streets, the other was Carmen.
She was Spanish. Her father used to rape her until she got pregnant. Her mother kicked her out without a second glance. She was found dead in a park after being gang raped by police men.
I think I'll be the next one to go. If I'm lucky, I won't feel it when they take my purity. God would've took me before they did. If only Amber and Carmen was as lucky.
The market was a far stroll from my house. I was almost there. I'd made it past the perverts and druggies. I'd just have to make it past the pervert behind the register.
I hated these kinds of neighborhoods. The ghetto. There was graffiti everywhere. Hookers at every corner and druggies in every alley.
Zayn said he knew a good dealer her could buy some weed from. I inwardly groaned as they passed around the putrid blunt. I hated the smell of it. It was sickening. I begged the lads to stop at a market so I could get some water and fresh air from these hoodlums.
The market barely looked like a market. It was trashed with posters of missing kids and cigarette adds.
I doubted any of these people would recognize me. They all looked like they belong here. I was the only white person. I stood out like an angel surrounded by dirty demons. I was classy and well dressed. While they looked like they were fresh off the boat from Africa.
Don't get me wrong, I loved all people. I was not a racist.
I just hated how they lived up to the stereotype.
It's not like they had to dress like the way they do and represent themselves as trash. If you hold yourself with respect I will treat you with respect. But they didn't, so I didn't. Of course not all people, black people, we're like this, but majority were. It's sad how the classy ones had to live with the stereotype that the trash had given them.
The market was empty except for the Indian man at the register and someone that was in the back.
I walked over to the back and grabbed a bottle of water. I peered down at the magazine and scoffed at the title.
"-Harry Styles over Nadine! The heartthrob celeb was spotted with yet another gorgeous blonde after winning award.-"
The Indian man behind the register smiled at me. I bet I'm the only white face he's ever seen.
"-Um and a pack of red Marlboro.-" I said pulling out my credit card.
"-Ok my friend.-" His accent was thick and silly. It made me chuckle.
Out from the back of the store came rattling sounds of beer bottles. It was probably a hooker or drunk trying to get wasted off of cheap beer. I looked to my right expecting to see something pathetic. Instead I saw the exact opposite.
There she stood looking at me. Eyes the color of trees. Hair the color of light brown and dropped past her shoulders in bouncy smooth curls. Lips big and pink. Skin the color lighter than delicious caramel. She was not trash.
Her gaze from me shifted to the cashier. Her delicate hands placed three large beer bottles onto the counter along with a pack of minty gum. Id like to taste the mint on her breath.
Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Me seeing her, her buying the beer, her leaving. It felt like she was still there in front of me. But she wasn't. Her scent lingered, but her silhouette was gone.
She was classy. She was beautiful. But she was black. In my world, that was a no-no.