"Hey, mom?" I asked, calling towards said person, "can I go hang out with my friends tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure," she replied halfheartedly.  Mom had never been the same since dad died three months ago.  Some would say she acted better.  People closer to her would say that she acted worse.  You see, dad was abusive.  He did drugs, he smoked, he raped mom, he hit me.  The definition of abusive.  He died in a car crash.  Some people think that mom did it, the police know better.  He was drunk and drove into the ocean.  He hit seven people.  Three of them died in the site, one died in the ambulance, two died in the hospital, and one survived.  That one was my friend William.  He knew it wasn't my fault so he didn't blame me.  We had been best friends since we were little and he knew all about the abuse.

The people that say that mom was doing better, are the people that only see her face and the smile she forces on it.  Dad was our main source of income so when he died mom had to work overtime a ton.  She's paid minimum wage and never went to college because dad wouldn't let her.

I remember the day he died perfectly.  I got home from school, scared as I walked in that Dad was going to beat the shit out of me, and saw Mom sitting on the couch.  "Hey mom," I greeted.

"Hi, Honey," she responed.

"Where's Dad?" I asked, scared he was going to jump out of a corner.

Mom flinched as if the mention of him scared her.  She patted the spot in the couch next to her.  "I have to talk to you about something," she said, "come sit next to me."

I wondered if Mom and Dad were going to send me away.  If I was gone I wouldn't be able to protect her. 

I sat down next to her and she put her hand on my lap.  I flinched, Dad had hit me there yesterday and it still hurt.  Mom saw and removed her hand.  "What did you want to talk about?" I asked her.

She sat up straighter.  "Dad got in a car crash today," she told me, "and he didn't make it." 

If Dad's gone he won't be able to hurt me or Mom anymore!  Mom gave me a strange look.  "Oh," I said, "did I say that out loud?"

She nodded.  "He hit you too?" She asked.  I had never told her that he hurt me too.  I nodded.

"He said that he would only hurt you if I didn't cooperate," she said, sobbing.

"Cooperate with what?" I asked.  She only sobbed harder and hugged me.  "It's okay.  You don't have to tell me," I told her.

We sat in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the other's breathing.  Mom looked up, "we have to pack our things," she said to me.

"Why?"  I asked her.

"We don't have enough money to live here.  Your father wouldn't let me work so I'll have to go find a job," she told me.

"Should I work too?" I asked.

Mom shook her head, "no," she said, "you need to go to school.  Get the best education you can now so you'll have a better future."

I knew that Mom was doing the best she could to get better, but with all the work she was doing she could barely find time to do anything, much less be happy.

"Mom?  Do you want me to work?  I could help you get more money," I offered again.  I knew what her answer would be, I don't know why I asked.

She shook her head again, "no, I'm fine," she said, "you need school."

"Mom," I countered, "you're never happy.  You work too much.  You need to take some time off.  If you don't let me work, at least let me ask my friend for money.  Her family is loaded and she already offered."

"No," she said, "I don't need help from them.  I already hurt their family enough."

"Mom," I said, "everyone knows it's not your fault.  We've been over to their house so many time, we're really good friends with them, they want to help."

"I'm fine, honey," she said, "If I can't provide for you I'll let you live over there."

"Mom this isn't about me!" I said, "this is about your happiness!"

"I haven't been happy since I met your father."

"Okay," I said and walked out the door.  I know she probably didn't mean it to say that she was never happy with me but I couldn't help but think.  Whatever I'll just talk to Angie about it later, I thought.

I walked to school, quietly singing the words to a song from my favorite musical.  "I am the one thing in life I can control" I'm the only thing I can control.  I couldn't control Dad when he hit mom, I couldn't control Mom when she met Dad, I couldn't control Angie when she offered to give us money, I can only control myself. "I am inimitable, I am an original," I'm my own person.  Nothing Mom says can change me, nothing Dad did could change me.  I control who I am.  "I am not falling behind or running late," I'm doing everything at my own speed.  "I am not standing still, I am lying in wait," I'm waiting until everything blows over, I can't try to do anything while people still look at me and Mom like shit.

Angie jumped up from behind me, "hey Narnia," she said, Narnia was her nickname for me. 

"Hey Angie," I said.

"Did you ask your mom?" She asked.

"Yeah," I said, "she told me no.  Like the other hundred times."

Angie let a frown form on her face, "oh," she said.  "My family just wants to help," she explained.

"I know," I said, "Mom still thinks your parents are mad at her though."

She rolled her eyes, "okay, we'll try again later," she said.

The school bell rang and Angie and I looked at each other.  "Shit," Angie and I both looked at each other and raced of to History class.  We got there right as the teacher was calling role.

"Angelica Hamilton," the teacher said. Angie raised her hand "here," she said. 

The teacher looked at her, "try to be here on time next time," she told her.

"Okay Miss," Angie said.

"Susan Reynolds."

"Here," I raised my hand.

Word Count: 1059

A/N

Should I make a full book on this?  I have some ideas for it.

I would like to thank @Amren_The_Bat for William's name. BUT, seeing as she went on a baby naming website and gave me the first name she found, I can't. I have been corrected. It was the third name.

AND ALSO, has anyone heard of Coolio before? I just found out someone with that name existed and he's a rapper, chef, actor, and am I missing anything?

I don't own Hamilton.

1/51 I've written four less than John Jay!

There's now a book up based on this one shot. It's called Everything's Fine.

~Frances