Chandra tightened the rubber band around her upper arm, hot tears streaming down her face. Finding a hit at the hotel proved to be impossible.

Luckily, when she got dressed and went to the bar, the bartender mentioned to a tall, black man that he had a supply of heroine.

She eavesdropped.

When the tall guy walked off she made her move. She paid him handsomely, using Francine’s money and now, sitting in her room, dead to the world, she inserted the syringe into a fat vein, her eyes fluttering
to the back of her head.

She lay back against the wall, staring blankly into her reflection.

Nowhere on her beautiful face was the sweet, innocent woman she used to be.
Samuel had drugged her, raped her and pumped her body full of heroine so by the time she came to, she craved a drug she didn’t know about.

Then she found out she was pregnant. He was very possessive and controlling.

Beat her ass from sun up to sun down when Francine thought he was working.

Made her have sex with him. Supplied her drug use. He was jealous of Francine being best friends with her. He tried to destroy Chandra before
Francine could ever find out.

So she could never find out.

But now Francine knew. Shame on Francine’s mother—Satan’s bastard child—for taking Samuel’s side. She was a very deceitful, controlling woman.

She never cut Francine a break. No matter what Francine did it was never good enough.

Or she could do better.

Or she should have done this.

It would drive anyone mad.

Her body felt like it was on fire, her heart pounding. She knew she was destroying her child, but what could she do?

She didn’t knowingly do drugs, a sick man slipped GHB in her alcohol and spent a few hours carefully injecting heroine into her veins.

Now she had a habit, one she couldn’t break. The room suddenly turned black and her head spun.

Moaning piteously, she lies down and fell into a deep sleep.

Francine hung up the phone.

“She’s probably sleeping,” she told
herself.

Thirty minutes later, Manuel pulled up in front of her house. Everyone was still there.

Vehicles galore.

She threw Manuel three 20’s and got out, closing the door. A few people noticed her and started to smile.

“There she goes.”

Francine ignored them, and made her way to the back wooden gate.

Unlatching it, she went to the back
door and noticed people in her kitchen eating her food.

Niggahs, I tell you! she thought bitterly. Didn’t nobody tell them to go into my kitchen and start eating food.

She made her way up the back staircase, leading to the balcony.

When she arrived, she opened her
bedroom door, slipped inside and closed it.

She lowered her head, sucking in air. She shook with revulsion, tears spilling from her gorgeous eyes like rain from clouds. She hurt for herself.

She hurt for Chandra. She hurt for her not-going-to-happen marriage.

“Yes, I am marrying him,” she told herself.

“I can’t wait until you do. This has gone on long enough.”

Startled, Francine tugged on her dress.

Turning to face her mother...