Stacia blinked away the tears that the memories brought forth. She backed out of the parking space and drove towards her mother’s house with a heavy heart. Something had to give. Life couldn’t continue to carry on as it had been. Once again, her throat closed, and she found it hard to breathe. This suffocating daily—it had taken its toll on her life.
She’d left one abusive situation only to be caught up in another one. It was as if she had “Punching Bag” tattooed on her forehead. Maybe she just wasn’t worthy of living a decent life or of experiencing love.
Her mother hadn’t loved her, and neither had her husband. Both of them had proven it time and time again with their wicked fists.
She pulled into the driveway of Grace’s home. It wasn’t the same house she’d grown up in. Once she’d gone off to college, Grace had moved to Lakewood Estates. The home was indeed beautiful on the outside, but inside, its walls held nothing but ugliness.
She shouldn’t have been surprised when her mother met her at the door. When the door swung open and Grace stared at her with a sinister look on her face, it startled her.
“Bitch, are you out of your fucking mind coming home this late?” With Grace’s hair sticking up on her head and her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes, she resembled Satan.
“Mama, I was at work. I called you and left—”
She didn’t even have the chance to finish the sentence before Grace punched her in the mouth.
“I doubt that you were working. I know your kind. You were probably laid up under some man, letting him fuck your brains out.”
“Mama, I swear to you. I was working. I was doing micro braids,” she cried as she held her throbbing lip.
“You can stay your trifling ass outside. Don’t you ever bring your ass here at this time of night thinking you’re going to step foot inside.”
“Mama, where will I go? I have nowhere else to go,” she sobbed.
“You can sleep in your damn car or on a park bench for all I care.” With that, Grace slammed the door in Stacia’s face.
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