CHAPTER ONE

 

Ariyah was scared to death.

At fifteen years old, the last place she thought she would be was laying in a hospital bed giving birth to a child she

didn’t want, with her mother right by her side being more evil than she was supportive.

The chimes and beeping of the machines and the busyness of the nurses made her queasier than the pain she felt

between her legs. Her stomach cramped so bad that her entire body felt like it was on fire. But all she could think about was

how much harder life was going to be when she got home because her mother had a vendetta against her for reasons she didn’t

understand.

“I don’t know what the fuck you was thinking,” Trina shook her head. “I done told your ass a thousand times to keep

them legs closed and stay away from them lil’ nasty ass boys you like to run around with. Now look at you—no job, barely

going to school, and I damn sure hope you don’t think I’ma be babysitting. ‘Cause I ain’t. You wanna be grown so bad, now

it’s time to be it.”

The doctor wanted Trina out of the room, but Ariyah was too scared to let her walk away. The nurses assured her that

they would take good care of her and make sure her birth went as smoothly as possible, but all she wanted was her mother’s

love and affection. She wanted to feel like she was safe and that everything would be alright. Instead, she felt anger and disgust

for the hypocrite who gave birth to her.

 

“Push, push, push. Breathe. Push, push, push. Breathe.”

The nurses coached her and wiped her forehead with a damp towel, all while stealing disgusted glances at Trina, who

did nothing but bitch and groan about the added mouth to feed.

One of the nurses got so upset about Trina’s nasty comments, she whispered something about social services to her

colleagues, but they knew there was nothing they could do. Fifteen-year-olds had babies all the time, and it wasn’t a crime for

their mothers to be unhappy about it.

“I hope you ready, lil’ girl,” Trina said. “You think pushing the baby out is the hardest part, but taking care of it until it

turns eighteen is the hard part. You gotta feed it, buy diapers, clothes, shoes, and keep a place to stay while doing it. We gon’

see just how grown you is when it really counts.”

She went on and on, and on and on, until finally, the doctor got so fed up he told her to have a seat at the far end of the

room or he would call security to have her escorted off the premises. Trina wasn’t happy about some white doctor talking to

her like she was a child, but for the sake of staying long enough to see if the child looked like who she suspected the father to

be, she shut her mouth and had a seat.

Once the baby was out and Ariyah had a chance to hold her little girl, who she didn’t have a name for, Trina inched

closer to take a look. She knew it was too early to tell who the baby looked like, but Trina’s suspicions tore at her gut like a

knife.

“You know who the daddy is?” she scoffed.

 

Ariyah shook her head no, but she knew. And she knew her mother knew too.

“Mm! Just like the rest of these fast-ass girls out here. Keep your legs cocked open so much you can’t keep track of

who leaving shit behind.”

When the nurses took the baby to clean her up and get her ready for the world, Ariyah rolled over on her side and cried

silent tears. She was exhausted from giving birth, exhausted from listening to Trina, and already pre-exhausted by the work she

knew she had to do when she got home.

She was the oldest of six kids to a mother who preferred collecting welfare over going to work, and allowed her

boyfriends to live in their home rent-free, eating all their food and piling dirty dishes on top of the ones Ariyah had yet to

wash.

She was the one who helped all the kids with their homework and got them ready for school every day. She kept them

entertained and talked to their teachers whenever they got out of line. Ariyah did it all—like she was their mother instead of a

child who needed those things too.

“What you gon’ do with a baby, Ariyah?” Trina asked. “You got diapers? Clothes? Milk? Do you even have a name for

the child? I can’t believe you went and let somebody get you pregnant after all the shit you watched me go through.”

Ariyah felt the urge to burst her mother’s bubble, but she knew it would’ve only started another fight between them.

She didn’t go out and let anyone get her pregnant. A man who was supposed to be in love with her mother took advantage of

her and Trina was too dickmatized to believe it.

 

“I’ll get a few things so you can have something when you bring that baby home, but don’t get used to that shit. I’m

having a hard time raising y’all by myself as it is.”

The more Trina complained about her life and having another head in the house, the more Ariyah dreaded giving birth.

She wanted to have an abortion because her life was already a living hell and the father was some old creep who denied

ever touching her, but her counselor, Ms. Tasha Reed at The Lotus House, encouraged her not to.

She thought giving Trina a grandchild might’ve helped bridge the gap between Ariyah and her mother, and even

though Ariyah knew Trina better than anyone, she had hopes that their relationship could’ve gotten better.

“How long do I have to stay here?” Ariyah rolled over to face her mother, hoping for a little softness.

“As long as they tell you to,” Trina replied sharply. “Shit, three days or so? I don’t know. As long as you and the baby

good, they’ll let you go.”

The three days Ariyah spent in the hospital were some of the most peaceful days of her life.

Aside from having to handle her baby and the food not being as good as what she cooked at home, she had no

complaints. The staff was nice to her, the blankets were clean and warm, and she didn’t have to hear people calling her name

fifty million times a day or walking into her room without knocking.

She wished she could’ve stayed forever, even if it meant taking care of the baby she didn't want. But the day she was

released was the day her vacation came to an end.

 

She went home on the bus because Trina was too lazy to drive across town to pick her up and since she didn’t have

money for an Uber, she had to take her newborn baby, the clear plastic bag she got from the hospital, and get home the best

way she knew how. And when she got there, she walked into a house that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months.

“Riyah! You’re back!” Jojo, her youngest sister, was the first to greet her. “Mama said you had a baby. Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Ariyah said, shifting the baby from one arm to the next. “Where Mama at?”

“She in the room with Lawrence,” Jojo replied. “Can I see the baby?”

Ariyah was annoyed already.

It took her hours to get home, the house was a wreck, nobody was in school, and Trina was locked in her room with the

man who got her own daughter pregnant. If there was a place other than Trina’s that Ariyah could’ve gone to, she told herself

she would’ve never gone back.

“Let me see the baby,” Jojo continued as Ariyah pushed past to go to her room. “She’s my little sister too!”

“Later, Jojo. I’m tired right now. Go sit down somewhere.”

She went into her room and slammed the door harder than she meant too, and hoped Trina didn’t open hers to ask what

the fuck somebody’s problem was. She knew the minute Trina knew she was home, she would start barking out orders for her

to clean up and cook dinner, even though Ariyah had her own baby to tend to.

“I’m so sick of this shit!” she whispered sharply as she laid her baby on the bed. “This house is always a fucking mess.

Kids don’t listen or do shit they’re supposed to. How I’ma take care of my baby and all of hers!? Then I gotta listen to this

 

bitch talk shit while she laid up with the nigga who raped me. She’s fucking sick! I can’t wait ‘til I can leave this

motherfucker.”

She paced back and forth, hoping an escape plan would magically fall into her lap.

Her dad was locked up and she didn’t know any of his family, so that option was a dead end.

Trina’s side of the family was from North Carolina and they didn’t deal with Trina at all, so that option was out the

door too. Ariyah felt hopeless; stuck in the same cycle that her mother and the mother before her mother had run through.

She sat in her room for hours while the baby slept peacefully, not knowing what kind of life she had ahead of her.

Ariyah tried to think of a name to call her, but her mind was blank. She didn’t feel connected enough to call her baby anything.

She didn’t even want her.

“Why you ain’t tell nobody you made it home?”

Trina showed up at her door just as Ariyah started to drift off to sleep. She was wearing a red, silk robe with nothing

underneath, and she smelled like sex, weed, and cheap liquor.

“I don’t know,” Ariyah shrugged. “I’m tired.”

“You gon’ be tired alright,” Trina laughed sarcastically. “Get up and come get this stuff. Lawrence gave me a couple

dollars to get some things for the baby. And bring her out here so I can see her.”

With an exaggerated huff, Ariyah peeled herself out of bed and lugged her bundle of regret into the living room. All of

her siblings were sitting on the couch, patiently waiting to see the newest member of the family. Lawrence was there too,

 

looking stupid and as guilty as charged. Their eyes met as Ariyah stepped deeper into the living room, but not for long. Trina

made sure she interrupted what little interaction Ariyah didn’t want to have with him.

“You think of a name for her yet?” Trina asked as she accepted the baby into her arms.

“Not yet.”

“You didn’t name the baby?” Carter, the second oldest, asked. “How the hell you have a baby and don’t have a name

for it?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout my baby. Worry ‘bout why y’all ain’t go to school today.”

Ariyah rolled her eyes and plopped down next to Trina. She was miserable and still sore from pushing out a seven

pound, 13 ounce baby. It was the worst pain she’d ever felt in her life. Much worse than the pain she felt the night Lawrence

took her virginity, but far less than the pain of having Trina for a mother.

To her surprise, her first week of motherhood went better than expected. She still didn’t have a name for the baby, but

her responsibility around the house didn’t pick up as fast as she thought it would, so she figured she still had time to think.

Lawrence was still around, which made it awkward. Since she had filled out even more after giving birth, his eyes

couldn’t stay fixed on anything other than her hips and milk-filled breasts. Trina saw it, and because she was jealous of the

attention Ariyah got from the man who was supposed to be hers, the little bit of leeway she extended was ripped away by her

own insecurity.

 

Before either of them saw it coming, Trina slapped Ariyah so hard across the face her nose started to bleed. She was no

stranger to talking to her daughter like she was some random hoe on the streets, but that was the first time that she had ever

laid a hand on her.

“Really, Ma?” Ariyah’s eyes filled with tears. “You gon’ hit me? Why? ‘Cause I’m telling the truth?”

Trina hit her again to shut her up, but that only woke the true anger her daughter had held onto all of her life.

Ariyah dove on her, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to the ground, and unleashed the fists of fury that she

wanted to let rant and rage for years.

“You better get off me, Ariyah! Before I fuck you up!”

“Nah, you hit me first, remember?" Ariyah taunted as she continued to tussle with her mother. “Yeah, bitch. You

always tryna show out like you big and bad. Now what?”

Trina shouted for Lawrence and tried fighting back, but she was no match for Ariyah’s pent up aggression. It was years

worth of anger, pain, bullying and abuse that she needed to release and unfortunately, Trina got the shit end of the stick.

“What the fuck!” Lawrence rushed into the hallway where their fight had moved to. “Ariyah! Stop! Let her go!”

He tried pulling Ariyah away but her strength was undeniable. She was like a rabid dog, tearing at the flesh of its prey.

In the back of her mind she wondered why Trina didn’t fight back as hard as she thought she would. Judging by the way her

mother talked to her all the time, she thought they were enemies.

 

“You a weak ass bitch,” Ariyah spat when she finally let go. “All that mouth you got and you ain’t do shit but get beat

up in front of yo’ nasty ass nigga.”

“Yeah, and you homeless ass bitch,” Trina shot back as she pulled herself off the floor. “Get your shit and get the fuck

out my house. And don’t come back either. We gon’ see how bad you are when them streets eat your ass alive.”

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

Miami was always busy. Especially when the skies went dark.

Hearing all kinds of noises in the wee hours of the night wasn’t unusual in the inner city, but when the sound of a baby

crying woke Tasha out of her sleep, it sounded like a real wake-up call.

She sat up in bed and listened again to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, and sure enough the baby howled again. It

sounded close—like someone at her front door, but she didn’t hear anyone knocking or shouting for help.

She grabbed her robe, slipped on her slippers and hurried down her creaky hallway. The closer she got to her front

door, the louder the cries became. And when she opened it, nothing prepared her to see a half dressed baby, wailing its arms

and screaming bloody murder.

“Oh my God!” She gasped and quickly picked up the baby. “What are you doing out here?”

The baby screamed and screamed like it was terrified.

Tasha stepped onto her front porch and looked both ways up the street. She didn’t know who she was looking for, but

someone—whoever’s baby was left on her doorstep in the middle of the night.

“Hello!?” she called out, hoping for an answer. “Is anyone there?”

 

Other than passing cars and the regular homeless people who passed out drunk on the sidewalk, the street was empty.

She didn’t see anyone who looked like they were in a rush to get away from what should have been their most prized

possession, which led her to wonder how long the baby had been there.

“Oh my God,” she said again as she rocked the screaming baby, trying her best to be soothing. “You poor thing, how

long have you been out here? And who would leave you out here by yourself? On my doorstep.”

She took the baby inside and rushed to her bedroom to grab her phone. On the way, something fell from the dirty

hospital blanket the baby was wrapped in. It was an envelope. Tasha hoped it was contact information for whoever the baby

belonged to, but when she opened it, it was only a letter.

Ms. Reed, I’m sorry to do this to you. You can call the people and have them take the baby if you want to but I never

wanted this. I didn’t want any of this shit. I was raped by my mama’s boyfriend, who she still has living with her, and she’s just

too stupid to believe it. She knows deep down inside he got me pregnant. I know she does. We got into a big fight tonight and

she kicked me out, knowing I have nowhere to go. I can’t take care of this baby. I don’t even want this baby. What I look like

taking care of my rapist's baby? I didn’t tell you this before ‘cause I didn’t want you all up in my business and I already know

what you thought of me. You wanted me to have this baby so bad, you keep her! I don’t have shit for her. I don’t even have a

name for her. I’m only fifteen years old. I haven’t even figured out my own life yet. If you wanna get rid of her, you can. I don’t

wanna drop this on you, but I don’t know what else to do.

-♥️Ariyah

 

Tasha’s heart sank in her chest.

She didn’t even need to see the name at the end to know who had left her the letter. The minute she started reading, she

knew it was from Ariyah. What she didn’t know was how bad things really were or who had fathered Ariyah’s baby.

She wished Ariyah would have told her more so she could have given her more options, or at least been better prepared

to help. And somewhere deep inside, in the heat of the moment, she wished she would have minded her business.

It seemed like every time Tasha tried to help someone, it always backfired.

“Ariyah,” she whispered somberly, feeling a heaviness in her heart. “I wish you would have told me.”

Tasha held the baby against her chest and patted her butt the way she remembered doing her foster siblings when they

cried.

She hadn’t held a baby since she was ten years old, when she was forced to take care of children who weren't hers. But

she had learned a lot over the years. And even though her life was a rollercoaster and she grew up enveying people who had

families, Tasha always kept her loving and helpful nature.

“It’s alright, shhh. You’re gonna be okay, baby girl.”

She rocked and cooed until the baby finally quieted down. It was enough to give her a moment to think of what to do

next, but not enough to help her make a solid decision. The thought of calling CPS and placing the child in their care came to

mind, but she knew how useless they were when it came to black kids. Tasha was in foster care for so long herself, she

eventually aged out of it.

 

When she remembered she had Ariyah’s number, she dialed it. It rang a couple of times and then played a recording,

“The number you have reached is no longer in service.” Tasha’s heart sank to her feet that time. It was as if Ariyah had

vanished off the face of the earth, leaving no bread crumbs or a map to find her.

“Shit!” she hissed. “What am I gonna do?”

She thought about reaching out to Ariyah’s mother, but the chilling truth of her allowing the man who fathered the

child to remain in her home wiped that thought clear from her mind. She couldn’t understand how a woman could do

something so vile. And to her own daughter.

“Maybe this is a sign from God. Maybe I’m supposed to be right here, right now, in this moment. Maybe you’re

supposed to be with me until things get better.”

She tried to psyche herself into believing Ariyah did the right thing by dropping her baby off and disappearing. It

wasn’t something she would have ever done herself, but when she thought about the lives other people lived and how much

stronger some people were than most, her judgment vanished too.

While the baby was quiet and resting on her bed, she threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed an old carseat she kept

in her closet for emergencies, and took the many steps needed in order to make a store-run for baby supplies. It was hell

getting the carseat fastened in the backseat while clutching a baby in her arms, but with a little determination and elbow grease,

she managed.