Gangsta Divas by De'nesha Diamond

hair in braids except in patches of bald spots.
    Her man was a white nigga who insisted that his name was Abdul and he was at least ten years older. He didn’t smell no better. But he would get up every fucking morning like he had a W-2 to get to, but in reality, that muthafucka never went farther than the front porch. He sat out there and talked a lot of shit about how niggas was ruinin’ the neighborhood.
    I wasn’t in that house two seconds before figuring his ass out. Hell, I knew a pedophile when I saw one. When he got the right amount of alcohol in him, he didn’t even hide the lust in his eyes and would do it in front of his bitch, too.
    â€œGet me a beer,” he’d always say when he wanted a close inspection.
    I wanted to bark that I wasn’t nobody’s trained dog, but a few foster homes back I got busted in the mouth for that smart remark so I knew better than popping off. Each time I handed him a beer, he’d make me stand there with the bottle held out while his gaze dragged over me.
    â€œYou sure are a pretty lil thing,” he’d say. “I betcha your pussy is just as pretty.”
    I never responded.
    â€œHow old did you say you were again?”
    Silence.
    â€œWhat’s the matter? Cat’s got your tongue?”
    Silence.
    â€œThat’s all right.” He’d reached for the bottle. “I like a bitch who knows how to keep her mouth shut.”
    It was a matter of time. I knew it—and he knew it. Which was why on the night shit went down I was laying there in that eerie darkness with my ears strained for the slightest sound. For a long time, all I could hear was Ta’Shara slow-breathing in the bed next to me.
    â€œT?”
    There was a long silence and then, “Yeah?”
    â€œLet’s run away,” I blurted out, sitting up. We’d done that before but this time I was determined we wouldn’t get caught.
    â€œWhere would we go?”
    â€œI don’t care. Anywhere.”
    She didn’t say anything.
    â€œDon’t tell me that you rather stay here.”
    â€œGod, no. It’s just . . . it’s so dark and scary outside.”
    I huffed out a breath, remembering that during the last escape, Ta’Shara cried every time she saw a crackhead shaking down the sidewalk.
    â€œI don’t know, LeShelle.”
    My hands balled at my sides. Why did she always make things difficult? Five minutes passed before I tried it again.
    â€œT? Are you still awake?”
    She hesitated. “Yeah.”
    â€œWell, do you want to?”
    â€œI—”
    SQUEEEAAK.
    My head whipped around to the door. There was somebody coming up the hallway. Not wanting to take any chances, I grabbed the blanket and pulled it up over my head. I don’t remember ever praying so hard in my life. “Please, God. Not this shit again.”
    SQUEEEAAK.
    The sound grew closer, so close that I knew that whoever was out there in the hallway had already walked past the half-bathroom. My stomach knotted up when the doorknob turned.
    â€œDon’t worry, Shelle,”T whispered. “I locked it.”
    I released a sigh of relief, but then a key slipped into the lock and rattled around.
    SQUEEEAAK.
    The door hinges sounded far worse than the loose floorboards in the hallway. The moment Abdul edged into the room, I smelled him.
    SQUEEEAAK.
    He closed the door behind him and then called himself tiptoeing his way toward my bed. The bed was so hard that when he sat down it didn’t even dip.
    Squeezing my eyes tight, I prayed: God, make him go away. God, make him go away.
    â€œHey, lil girl.” He felt around and then snatched down the blanket. “Whatchu doing hiding under there?”
    â€œWhat do you want?” I hissed, angry that God hadn’t answered my prayers.
    Abdul’s funky breath singed my nose hairs. “C’mon, girl. You’ve played this game before. Anyone can take one look at you and