His olive tan skin glistened in the moonlit night, too buried in their passion to close the curtains - no, too buried in his passion - his mud brown eyes half closed as he slowly awaited exhaustion, she stared, observed, hoping to see a hint of the man she once loved, although they looked the same, their mannerisms were different, he was no longer the same man. His breath having slowed and rhythmic, his eyes closed and his lean body still, she figured he was asleep. He was vulnerable, he was weakened but what would she do, what could she do. She slept, the cold sheets warming as they made contact with her ***** body. She too closed her eyes, awaiting the haunting nightmates hidden deep within her subconscious.

*A woman like me will only gain freedom once I die.

It won't be long now*.

Her heart pounded within her ear, the sweet suckle voice of her mother resonating through her head, sending her mind haywire, connecting the memory with many more similar, where her mother claimed her death before the knife reached her caramel aging skin.

A sigh of relief found it's way out of her lips, raising her hand to brush the messy brown curls - which reminded her very much of her mother - away from her face. She looked around, noticing the loss of another presence which led to another sigh escaping her ruby-pink lips. She stepped off the bed, the covers cascading down her ***** form. Walking towards the bathroom, she indulged herself in a warm shower, the water dripping down her curvy figure, pitter-pattering amidst her small back, wettening her hair, causing it to stick to her skin. How this reminded her of her teen years, of the days spent in bathrooms hiding het tears within the soapy water. She had promised herself once she left the toxicity of her childhood home, this wouldn't happen again, but here she is ( the promise made, now broken) in the dreaded shower, holding in her screams of anguish and desperation.

She stepped out of the bathroom, a navy blue towel wrapping around her body, her brown hair wrapped in a towel to absorb the moisture. She wore a light blue, knee length skirt she had bought not to long ago and a black long sleeved elastaine shirt, a baby blue blazer and white pumps. This is what her mother would call a career woman outfit, a smile playing at her lips at how proud her mother would be but then reality hit, they're was nothing she would be proud of, her mother wasn't proud of the life she lived, nor the one promised to her children, whether they end up in poverty or as one of the rich, she wouldn't be proud, to her, it was either too little or not enough. Her mind dismissed all negative thoughts about her mother, the naivety of a teenage girl seeking her mother's validation seeping through with every second, refusing to see her as more or less of the God fearing woman she remembered... Or fabricated.

Exciting the house, she entered the sleek white BMW and drove off. To the place which she felt her soul at rest, where her mind was at ease and her thoughts no longer haunted her and her marriage no more a reminder of her failure.

She went to the grave yard.

Her mother's tomb, the one person who brought her peace , whether dead or alive. If not the eery grave, then the bottom of a bottle and her mother surely wouldnt be proud of an alcoholic. She arrived at the graveyard, it's silence and eery nature welcoming to her, it was almost jilting how she felt so at home with the dead, maybe, perhaps because the dead didn't judge, they had no expectations from her, the dead brought her freedom, free from societies hypocricies, her siblings insistence and her husband's presence.

She stared at the grey, moss covered tombstone, laying on her back beside it. The orbitruary carved onto it, the lies it spoke calmed her, to reassure herself into thinking she was just an unfilial child, imaging the cruel things her mother had done to her but no matter how many times she fueled those delusions , the truth always remained and no lie could make her mother seem like a better person.

' Is there a reason your lying on your back in a graveyard ' the supple voice asked, like a dew drop in a silent lake during a chilly night, the voice was chilling. She opened her eyes, checking to make sure the voice she heard belonged to the woman who she had imagined, It had, her usually wheat colored hair a honey strawberry blonde, she wanted to ruin her hands through like she had done before.

' Why are you here? 'she asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

' Can I not come see my friend, check on her wellbeing. ' she replied coyly, feigning that innocence that had fooled her years ago.

'You can... ' she paused, looking her in the eye, showing her how much she's changed since then. '.. But you wouldn't '

The woman laughed, throwing her head back. ' Because you know me? ' she shook her head, lessening her deep throated laugh to a chuckle.

' I know enough' she replied, her face ridden of any emotional give away other than the slight twitch in her eyes as she figdeted with the grass below. The women nodded her head bobbing up and down as she started at the woman on the ground. A loud sigh escaped her lips as plopped down beside her.

' You didn't answer my question ' she asked.

' I did, you just weren't satisfied with the answer ' the blonde replied.

' The answer was a lie '

' As opposed to everything else I've said ' she questioned. ' Asante... ' she began, although cut short by the loud sigh of her former " friend "

' Leah, I'm tired. Can I have one second of peace. ' she asked, although the two women knew it was not a request.

' Peaace, hah! ' she scoffed. ' There's nothing peaceful about you, you and me, we're chaotic, there's no peace for us, we only have each other. ' she said. The same thing she had said for the past years and she couldn't help but agree, her father had not wanted her, her mother always looking to change her, her siblings always filled with disdain for her and each other and her husband was no longer her husband. So, perhaps she was right,

They only had each other.

She sat on her king sized bed, wearing the black lacy lingerie her husband had bought for her a few years ago, her leg shaking in anticipation. A rare smile made its way onto her chocolate colored face. She had gotten home not long afford after her chat with Leah, her old friend - if one could call her that - and received a text from her husband promising her a very special night. She felt giddy on the inside, like an innocent teenage girl fan-girling over the many popular boy bands these days, sick emotion made her feel content, that maybe her marriage could be fixed, that it could return to its once blissful state.

She continued to wait, seconds turned into minutes which turned into hours until she no longer stands to count the seconds which fueled her shame, the once excited smile drooping to a forced and tired one, she no longer felt content, she felt angry and embarrassed. She yawned, getting up from the bed towards the closet but stopped, hearing the front door open and close with a bang.

Now he decides to come back.

She thought, watching the bedroom door as she waited for him to come through it. The big burly man walked through the door, stopping at the doorway as he spotted her, his eyes taking over her barely covered body, confusion etched onto his face.

' What's this about? ' he asked, his eyebrow arched. She sighed, shaking her head in disapproval as she walked past him, ignoring his question. She entered the closet, changing into her silk summer pajamas before she returned to her, dingo her husband undressing before her. He took off his jacket, then the white shirt, revealing the small muscles underneath, she bit her lip, her eyes tracing over his many tattoos before meeting his aquamarine gorgeous eyes that seemed to pierce through her straight to her soul.

' Like what you see? ' he teased and she smiled, walking towards him and gliding her finger down his abs through the wife beater tank top he wore. She sneaked her hand underneath the tank top, feeling his skin over her skin.

' I've always liked what I saw or else we wouldn't be married. ' he chuckled, rubbing his hands over her shoulders.

' I liked what I saw too ' he said, looking her up and down, mentioning the lingerie she wore. ' I'd like to see more ' now it was her turn to laugh. Giving in to his demands, engaging in a night of passion and lust.

The next day she woke up to an empty bed but a scrumptious smell, intrigued she quickly took a shower and brushed her teeth before walking towards the kitchen, where her husband - with no cooking experience - was frying an egg - well, he tried to fry one.

' Kevin, what are you doing? ' she questioned as she watched her husband shrink away from the stove everytime the oil cackled.

' I wanted to make us a delicious breakfast ' he said, watching her saunter over to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

' But Kevin, you can't cook for shit ' she chuckled, he frowned, pouting like a child. She shook her head, smiling while she tried to resuscitate the egg into edibility. She started at the man she once believed would be her savior. If only it could always be like this. She sighed, raining down negativity on a good morning.

Kevin rolled his eyes, having not felt her shift in emotion. She cleared her throat, pushing down the memories as she served him the plate, he groaned in satisfaction. ' This is why your my wife ' he smiled.

Odd, I thought it was because you love me.

Yet she kept the thought to herself, knowing it would have disastrous consequences, she simply smiled, playing the perfect wife she was so used to putting on in public. She also felt the urge to be snarky and to say ' Funny, I'm still searching for the reason I married you ' but that would have consequences and she had a family dinner later on, she didn't want the daunting task of putting on makeup to hide the bruises.

She instead said. ' Are there any more ' she teased, her voice sultry and suggestive. He chuckled, looking at, staring at her and at that moment, the look in her eyes shocked him, making him question her sanity and his as well.

He then frowned, his eyes darkening with a scary resolve, one she wouldn't be able to get out of her mind. She flinched back knowing the consequences of his mood swings and they were painted throughout her body.

He was fine, what happened?

She questioned herself but what could she do, he wouldn't care for her opinions, wouldn't care for her feelings at the sms of the day she would be bruised and he would sated and in a way it made her happy that she could calm him, even if she became his punching bag.

Mother would proud, would she not.

She watched her siblings as they dug into the meal in front of them. Seeing all of them again brought back the memories - not that they've stayed away - and reminded her of how they all went through the same thing, how they all had protected each other but now, things changed and it left her wondering what happened, was she not a good enough sister was she not worthy to share the bloodline. This question rang through her everytime she saw people of her past, everytime she saw her husband, everytime she did anything she would always ask herself.

Was she not worthy?

' Asante' her sister started, looking at her with the look of sincerity she always craved. ' Your quite smart, why not go back to work '

The big question, why did she not go back to work, it was simple, her husband didn't find it necessary, he could work for both of them. She would have said that if it weren't the truth but it was and the truth is the last she needs to speak.

' I've decided to stay home, my husband needs me ' she answered, smiling, she figured the loving wife would be a betterpill to swallow than the battered housewife and even if she did say anything, why would they help her, she's seen what all of them are capable of doing, they cruelty they can inflict on others, the cruelty they've inflicted on her was unforgivable but the pain she inflicted on them was even worse.

You are poison, you ruin everything, your worthless.

Those were some of the words their mother has said to her but she always viewed her like a mirror, she was only worthless in her eyes because she was worthless in everyone elses.

Hah, the hypocrisy of my mother was laughable and the hypocrisy of my siblings is even more ridiculous.

' Keisha, I thank you for your worry but it's unnecessary. ' she said, setting her eyes towards her plate.

Aren't these the words mother said to Aunt Lauren ?

Keisha asked herself, her eyes narrow from suspicion and fear, fear that her sister would be like her mother, the look on her face, lacking of emotion scared her, this cold helplessness was the same look her mother had, her accusatory gaze falling on her sister, how could she let this happen to herself, she questioned internally, naturally not getting an answer. Her stare made Asante nervous, enough to force her to excuse herself to the bathroom where Keisha followed her.

' Asante ' she yelled running after her just as she entered the bathroom, her kinky curly hair bouncing with each stride as opposed to her wavy curls, she had always felt envious of her, Keishas hair seemed more African whilst hers felt fake, like a low bugdet bootleg version of her sister, hers was too smooth, too wavy and not curly enough which prompted her to shave her head as well as to erase her mother's fondling hands embedded in her memory but her hair grew back and not in the way she had wanted so she relaxed them which left her feeling more... white, which reminded her of her father even more and that infuriated her but now her sister worried for her, which was something she had always wanted, to matter to someone.

' Keisha, you didn't have to follow me ' she said, looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

' I didn't but I'm here either way ' she said heaving a sigh before continuing ' Asante, I'm worried ' Asante heart seemed to skip a beat, her eyes wide in shock, these words meant she cared but still, her family was more enemy than friend and they've shown her multiple times that they could not be trusted, instead of being overjoyed like she expected she would be she instead narrowed her eyes at her, too many people had played her and now she felt like a fool, a broken fool. ' Your becoming like her, I see it... ' she mentioned their mother, she clenched her teeth as she clutched onto the sink. She was angry not because of her hypocrisy but because of her bringing their mother into this, that made her nightmares more real and that made her question her mother and she didn't want that, she didn't want to ask questions that would only sooner or later haunt her.

' Since when do you care ' she gritted out, tears streaking down her face.

' I've always cared ' she whispered looking down, her eyes tracing the pattern on the bathroom tile. Asante couldn't help but scoff, that one inaudible sound holding so much anger yet the tears streaking down her face contradicting that emotion, tiring her anger into anguish.

Why am I crying?

She questioned herself, looking at her sisters twelfth in the bathroom mirror.

*B*ecaide why couldn't she care for me when I was younger.

' I was jealous ' she stated, answering her unasked question ' I was young and blind, mother cared for you so much, she protected you while she left us the mercy of that man while she risked her life to protect you ' her voice strained ' It felt unfair, that the one person who loved us, who said she loved us could let us hurt in such a way ' tears cascaded down her sisters face and she couldn't help but join in, their sobs ringing out the bathroom as they cried together, holding each other but Asante wasn't crying because she empathize with her but because she didn't care.

Why can't I feel, why is it empty, my heart empty?

Mother, what have you done to me?