Third Person Point of View

Normani held her breath as she tiptoed into the kitchen. The morning sun spilled through the thin curtains, casting a golden light over the chipped countertops and scuffed linoleum floor. Her father sat at the table, nursing a cigarette and a cup of coffee that smelled burnt. The low drone of the news played from the small television on the counter.

"You're up late," he said, not looking up from his mug. His tone wasn't warm or conversational. It was sharp, cutting.

"I-I overslept," she stammered, knowing it was a mistake before the words were fully out.

He slammed the mug down, the sound making her flinch. "You overslept? What the hell you got to be tired for? You don't do nothin' but sit in school all day."

Normani bit her lip, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "I-I cleaned the whole house last night. I didn't finish till three..."

Her father's glare was cold as he rose from the table. "Don't give me no damn excuses. If you weren't so slow, you'd get it done faster. Maybe if you spent less time feelin' sorry for yourself, you'd get somewhere in life."

Normani felt the words sting, but she forced herself to stay quiet.

Her silence didn't save her. He reached into his back pocket and threw a crumpled piece of paper onto the table.

"I got a call from your school," he growled. "Said you're failin'. And what the hell is this?" He jabbed a finger at the paper—a progress report filled with low marks.

Normani's heart sank. She'd worked so hard to keep her grades up, even sneaking in study time while scrubbing floors or folding laundry. But it wasn't enough.

"I—I tried," she whispered, tears pricking her eyes. "But I don't have time to—"

"Time? Time?" His voice rose, and before she could step back, his hand lashed out, striking her across the face. "Don't you dare blame me! After all I do for you, this is how you thank me? Ungrateful little girl."

Normani stumbled, clutching her cheek as tears spilled down. "I'm not trying to blame you! I just—I don't have time to study. I'm always cleaning, and I only get a couple hours of sleep—"

"Shut your mouth!" He loomed over her, his face twisted with anger. "You think you're so smart, huh? Let me tell you somethin'. You don't need no damn degree. A dumb girl like you ain't goin' nowhere but a mop and a bucket. And that's all you're good for."

His words cut deeper than the slap. She tried to keep herself from breaking, but her body betrayed her, trembling as sobs bubbled up.

"You think you're too good for the life I'm givin' you?" he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're lucky to have a roof over your head. And you better remember that. Ain't nobody else gonna want you."

∞∞∞

Normani stayed frozen in place, her vision blurred from tears. Her father snatched his mug off the table and stomped to the counter.

"Since you think you know so much, why don't you get up and go to the store? House still needs food," he snapped, tossing a crumpled bill her way.

Normani wiped at her face quickly, her hands trembling as she caught the money. "Y-yes, sir," she whispered.

"And when you get back, you better get this place spotless. Floors ain't gonna scrub themselves," he muttered, lighting another cigarette. "Don't make me tell you twice."

"Yes, sir," she said again, her voice barely audible. She turned and hurried out the door before he could say anything else.

∞∞∞

The air outside was cold and crisp, biting at her cheeks and drying her tears. Normani clutched the money tightly in her hand as she walked, her head down and her steps quick.

The world outside her father's house felt like another universe. The sound of cars rushing past, children laughing in the distance, and the chatter of neighbors were all reminders that life went on, even if hers felt stuck.

As she approached the park, the faint sound of shouting drew her attention. She turned her head and saw the basketball court a block over.

Megan stood out immediately. Tall, loud, and defiant, she was in the center of a small crowd of kids, arguing with a group of boys over the court.

"You ain't takin' our spot!" Megan's voice rang out, clear and confident. "Go find another one. This ours."

Normani lingered for a moment, watching from the edge of the street. There was something captivating about the girl's boldness, the way she stood her ground without hesitation.

For a brief moment, Normani wondered what it would be like to have that kind of strength. To speak up for herself without fear.

But then one of the boys shoved Megan, and the tension escalated. Normani turned away quickly, her heart pounding as she hurried toward the grocery store.

∞∞∞

Normani's arms ached as she set the grocery bags on the counter. The weight of the day felt heavier than the load she'd carried from the store. She wiped the sweat from her brow and glanced toward the living room, where the dull glow of the television flickered across her father's face.

He didn't acknowledge her at first, his focus on the game playing on the screen. A cigarette burned low between his fingers, the ash threatening to drop onto the stained armrest.

"You get everything?" he finally asked, his voice sharp and cold.

"Yes, sir," she said softly, reaching to unpack the bags. Her hands shook slightly as she pulled out the canned goods and set them on the counter.

Her father stood and approached the kitchen. Normani stiffened when she heard his heavy footsteps behind her.

"You think a couple bags of groceries make up for what you pulled earlier?" he asked, his tone low but dangerous.

She turned slowly, clutching a can of soup in her hand like it was a lifeline. "I didn't pull anything, sir. I—I just..."

"You just what?" he snapped, stepping closer. The smell of smoke and cheap whiskey clung to him, making her stomach turn.

"I'm trying," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But school's hard, and I don't have enough time—"

He cut her off with a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Enough time? You got time to run your mouth and make excuses, but you ain't got time to do what you're told? You think you're so smart?"

"No, sir," she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Damn right you ain't," he sneered. "You ain't nothin' but a burden. Can't even keep your grades up. You know what that makes you? Worthless. Dumb. Just like your mama."

The words hit her harder than any blow, but she didn't flinch. She'd learned to take it, to let the insults wash over her and leave her hollow.

"You think you deserve to go to school when you can't even do the work? Fine. You don't need school. Starting tomorrow, you're stayin' home."

Her eyes widened in panic. "But—"

"No buts!" he roared, slamming his hand on the counter. The sound echoed through the small kitchen, making her flinch. "You gonna stay here and learn what a real woman's job is. Clean this house right, cook meals that don't taste like trash, and stop wasting my damn time."

"Yes, sir," she whispered, her head bowed low.

Her father leaned against the counter, lighting another cigarette as he continued. "And while you're at it, you can make dinner for Earl when he comes over. Man works hard, unlike you. Least you can do is show some gratitude."

Normani bit her lip to keep from crying. Earl was one of her father's drinking buddies, a man who always leered at her when he came by. She hated the way his eyes lingered, the slimy way he talked to her when her father wasn't paying attention.

"Yes, sir," she said again, her voice barely audible.

"Good. Now stop standing there like an idiot and get to work," he barked, grabbing his beer from the counter and stomping back to the living room.

Normani exhaled shakily, her hands gripping the edge of the counter to steady herself. She felt the hot sting of tears but refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn't help. It never did.

She turned back to the groceries, unpacking them quickly before moving to the stove. She pulled out the ingredients for dinner, her hands moving on autopilot as she chopped vegetables and boiled water.

∞∞∞

By the time she finished cleaning the kitchen, cooking dinner, and scrubbing the floors, the clock read past midnight. Earl had stayed late, his loud laughter and crude jokes filling the house until Normani wanted to scream. Her father had laughed along, slapping her on the back and telling Earl how lucky he was to have a daughter who "knew her place."

When they finally left her alone, Normani collapsed onto her small cot in the corner of the laundry room. Her body ached from the endless work, and her head throbbed from the weight of her father's words.

∞∞∞

Normani sat on the edge of her cot, the dim light from her phone casting a faint glow in the dark laundry room. Her fingers hovered over the cracked screen, the weight of the day making it hard to focus.

She unlocked her phone—a battered, secondhand model she treated like a treasure. The case was scuffed, and the screen had a thin crack running diagonally across it, but it still worked, and that was all that mattered. She knew if it broke, there'd be no replacing it.

A notification blinked from a group chat with her best friends, Chloe and Solana. They'd been her lifeline on so many dark nights, filling the silence with laughter and a sense of belonging she didn't get anywhere else.

Her stomach churned as she typed the message:
Normani: I'm not coming back to school.

The chat immediately lit up with replies.
Chloe: Wait, what? Normani, what are you talking about?
Solana: Girl, stop playin'. You love school. What's going on?

Normani hesitated, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Her father's words from earlier echoed in her mind: "You're nothing without me, and you'll never amount to anything anyway."

She shook her head and forced herself to type:
Normani: I'm too far behind. It's pointless. I can't catch up, so I'm just gonna stop wasting everyone's time.

Chloe: That's not true, and you know it. What's really going on?
Solana: Yeah, Mani, talk to us. This ain't you.

Normani's chest tightened. She wanted to pour everything out—the sleepless nights, the bruises she hid, the constant fear of disappointing her father. But she couldn't. The thought of anyone knowing her family's shame made her stomach turn.

Normani: It's not that deep. I just need to help out more at home.

The chat went silent for a moment. Then Chloe replied:
Chloe: Help with what? Mani, you've been doing house stuff forever. What's changed?

Solana: Right! Cleaning and cooking don't mean you gotta drop out of school. That don't even make sense.

Normani's heart pounded as she tried to come up with an excuse. Her fingers trembled as she typed:
Normani: It's just a lot right now. My dad's been stressed, and I need to step up more. He's got enough on his plate.

The response came instantly.
Chloe: Is he making you drop out? That's not even legal. Mani, you don't have to do this.

Solana: For real. If something's happening, just tell us. We'll figure it out.

Normani swallowed hard, her throat tightening. She could feel their concern through the screen, but it only made her feel more exposed. She typed quickly, trying to end the conversation:
Normani: Nobody's making me do anything. I just need to handle my business. It's no big deal.

Chloe: It is a big deal if you're quitting school. Mani, be real with us. Is something going on at home?

Normani's breath hitched, and her fingers froze over the screen. Her heart raced as memories of her father's anger flashed in her mind—his yelling, the slap of his belt, the exhaustion from cleaning and cooking until her body ached.

She couldn't let them know.

Normani: Y'all, it's fine. I swear. My dad's just been going through it, and I need to help. That's all.

Solana: He been "going through it" your whole life, though. What about you? You don't ever get to just live.

Normani blinked back tears, her fingers tightening around the phone.
Normani: I'm good, Sol. Really. Don't worry about me.

Chloe: How can we not? You're dropping out and acting like it's normal. Mani, if something's happening, you gotta tell us. Please.

Normani's frustration boiled over. She couldn't handle their questions anymore.
Normani: Nothing's happening! I just need to do what I gotta do, okay? Stop making it a thing.

The chat went quiet for a moment, and Normani immediately regretted snapping at them. She didn't mean to push them away, but she couldn't let them dig deeper.

Finally, Chloe replied:
Chloe: Okay. But just know we're here if you need us. Always.

Solana: Yeah, we got you. But we're not gonna let you disappear on us, Mani. You hear me?

Normani's hands shook as she typed her reply:
Normani: I know. I appreciate y'all. I'll text you later.

She set her phone down and let out a shaky breath, tears streaming down her face. She hated lying to them, but the truth felt too heavy to share.

As she curled up on the cot, pulling her blanket over her head, she clung to the faint hope that one day, things might be different. But for now, this was her life, and she had to survive it alone.

Okay, hope y'all are doing okay!! Meet Normaniiii

What are your thoughts? 

Normani?

James? (Normani's Father)

Earl?

Chloe?

Solana?

Have a great dayyy :)