There is a point in your life that you just stop, to think or maybe blame the world for what you are going through. Even though you know it is no one's fault but fates or maybe your own. I detest my life with every fiber of my being but am such a coward that I will not end it like most teens my age. I'm distracted but my hands move on their own as I finish the last detail on my client's hair. It has been so many years of doing this that my hands already know what to do.
I try to hurry but also pay attention to all the details and do my best job. These clients are my source of income and one unhappy client can bring my whole reputation down. Puerto Rico is a place where the word of one unhappy customer is practically law. Especially for someone working on her own. One unhappy customer and I will lose my hard-earned clientele. I make sure the hairstyle is as she wants, I recheck my hand work and the design, I tighten it to make it secure and last long.
"Done." I say after I spray her hair with hair spray and smile at my client as she practically screams in happiness. I always cover the mirrors before I start which most times brings me heat with them and I uncover them once finished, you cannot imagen the satisfaction I feel when I hear their gleeful screams. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! Now I don't have to go crazy tomorrow." She says hugging me and paying me my fee. I say my goodbye and take my leave.
Tomorrow is our prom and she did not have any time to get her hair ready since she has other things to get done. This week has been hectic for me, since I've had to fit ten to fifteen girls into my schedule daily. None want to go to professional salons to get their hair done and tomorrow I have my whole day booked to do all their make-ups before the prom. I am not looking forward to that. I finished school in a government approved 'Avanza' program.
To save money the program and the public school unites their students to make one big prom for all. All the girls are ecstatic, all but me. I guess that is not on my bucket list, I do like parties and dancing, but I don't want to be a part of this. Girls between our ages are demons re-incarnated. They are the worst critics and a nightmare to satisfy. Thankfully, I have many years of practice and it's not the first time I've had to deal with them. Everyone in Quintana know that the best hair stylist in this area is me.
Even if they do go bonkers and turn to she-devils on me, they know they always get what they want and more. Quintana is a low-income apartment project in San Juan PR. I learned to do hair, make-up, piercings, acrylic nails, manicures and pedicures since I was ten to earn the money for my personal things. Since my parents wouldn't do it themselves. I got myself a part-time job at a clothing store on the weekends when I turned fifteen.
I close my client's front door as I walk out of her place and pull my cellphone out to look at the time, I panic. It's going to be ten pm, my parents are going to murder me if they are up. I sigh deeply to calm my rapid beating heart and hurry my step. Normally at this time my parents are asleep or high as a kite. Either way they do not notice me coming in, so I get at least six hours of sleep before my routinely wake up call. Which is a belt buckle to the back or my head, or a broom stick to the back.
They each take turns to see who breaks it quicker on me. My parent's apartment building is right slap middle of the projects and is a fifteen to twenty-minute walk from my client's home. It is very dark out, fair warning never be out at night by yourself in the streets of Puerto Rico, especially if you live near or in the projects like I do. I watch my step and keep my eyes peeled for anything suspicious. I pray to the heavens I get home before a drive by sets out.
These people do not know the meaning of take it out on whoever did whatever to you and not on the innocent. If they find whoever it is, they are looking for, the least they care is if there is anyone near or with them. They have done it many times. That's why many people from here work until they drop, to move out of here for fear of their lives and their children's. Many people, especially children have died by the hands of these idiots. I try to hurry and pass by the drug dealers' corner.
I hate passing through here, but I don't have a choice tonight. "Hey Analiah, wait up" I hear my name being called from the exact spot I am trying to avoid. I fist up my hands on my side, stomp my foot on the ground and groan annoyed. Dang Stephen, I turn and glare at the dang monkey brute heading my way. He smiles at me ignoring my glare, "What's the hurry?" he asks smirking at me. If only he knew how much I hate his guts he would magically disappear.
He leans against the nearest car to me and folds his huge arms in front of his chest. "What time is it Stephen?" I ask instead folding my arms against my chest and tapping my foot on the ground in annoyance. He looks at his watch and smiles. I have a feeling I know what is going to come out of that filthy mouth of his.
He knows my parents, especially my mother since she is warmed his bed on many occasions, or should I say he has warmed my parents' bed. I have caught him many times doing the walk of shame at dawn trying to be as quiet as a mouse so my mother would not wake and notice he was not there. Those are the days that I become her personal punching bag because she knows he is interested in me and she is just a booty call. Something that I can't seem to understand is, why does she blame me instead of him?
"Time for you to come home with me tonight. When are you going to pull that stick out of your arse and let me show you a good time?" he asks smirking and extending his hand to pull me against him. I pull my hand away from his and take two steps back. I don't need no more drama, if my mom hears of this, she will definitely kill me. She's like a blood hound on a mission, every time he's next to me or has touched me even if it were my hands she always seems to know.
He grabs ahold of the hem of my shirt and pulls me against his chest. I push against his chest, to get him to let me go but he only tightens his hold. Just being this close to him twists my gut, he disgusts me. Some of his goon's chuckle from the corner, pissing me off. I push harder against his chest, "That is never going to happen, and you know that now let me go." I grit in annoyance. There is nothing of him that can ignite desire in me. He is extremely attractive with his six-foot four height and body packed with muscle but none of that makes up for his whoring ways.
He never gives up; he has slept with most woman in this place and who knows how many kids he got laying around. Though everyone in this project knows that his go to flavor is always my mother and even if he didn't, I would never give him the chance, I'm not attracted to him. I do not want a fling or anything else for that matter. He tightened his hold on me and lowers his head to my neck. "Let go Stephen!" I hiss in warning and push harder against his chest.
He drops one hand towards my buttock and squeezes one cheek. I lose it! I pull my leg back then lift my knee with momentum and ram it against his jewels. His yell of pain gets me what I wanted, which is for him to let me go but it also brings his goons running out to help him. When they see me pulling away they know what happened. Not all his goons were okay with him bothering me and trying to get into my pants knowing he is screwing my mother.
"Go Analiah, no one is going to bother you." Joel says pushing me towards my parents building. Joel is Stephens little brother and one of the people that try to keep his brother away from me. Samuel glares at me in anger while he helps Stephen, he is Stephens right hand man and go to guy. I look between them all and nod at Joel. Stephen is not the type of man to sit idly with his arms crossed, much less take no for an answer. Frankly, I am afraid he is the type to take things by force if he must.
I have never heard of anyone accuse him of rape, but I can't let my guard down. He gives me the creeps and everything in me screams to run as far away from him as physically possible every time we meet. I turn and run the rest of the way not wanting him to catch up to me. I breathe a sigh of relief when I make it to our building. I lean against the wall on the first floor trying to calm my breathing. My parents must be asleep by now, well I hope so. I hear music the closer I get to my parents' apartment.
A chill goes down my back, I have a bad feeling. The type that cripples you with fear of the unknown, the one that makes you want to run the other way and hide because you know you will not survive its wrath. That is the one I have right now, everything in me screams for me to run the other way. The music is coming from my parent's place. I guess they are not sleeping, red flags keep flashing in my mind and the feeling to run is getting harder to resist.
I trust my gut and turn my back towards the door to leave the same way I came. I hear the door open and see my mother walking out. The look on her face says it all… I run… My brain keeps screaming and my pulse hits over drive. My fight or flight instinct push me to choose the latter. I feel my heart drop to my stomach in panic, I can practically smell my own fear… the type that cripples you and wants your bladder to betray you. I turn to run but scream in pain when I feel myself being yanked back by my hair.
I grab onto my mother's hands and try to pry her fingers off. "Let go ma, I'll leave, I'll leave… Please, just let me go." I beg as she pulls me inside the apartment. Tears run down my cheeks and I can't seem to make them stop. They make my vision blurry and my heart seize by panic. She throws me across the room making me fall on the old coffee table they have in the middle of the living room and I break it with my weight.
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