"Stop fighting," Vera screams over them, tears flooding her red face. Two minutes have passed, and they're relentlessly arguing.

"I mean, do you really not have any self-respect," Jerome yells at Judith despite the tears in her eyes. "I wanted to help you! I actually liked you and you really went back to him? After everything he put you through, all the crying and bruises, you still went back to him?"

"Could you please lower your voice?" A single tear rolls down her face and into her mouth, and Jerome scoffs. David smirks with his arms crossed.

"And now you want me to pretend everything's copacetic," he asks louder, scoffing incredulously. "You not only humiliated me, but you wasted my time! I came here to get you, and I shouldn't have, really, because when I came earlier, your mom lied and said you were already there. That should've been my first indication that something was off because we never even discussed where we were going."

"I'm sorry," she tries to apologize, but he interrupts her.

"Don't even worry about it." Jerome shakes his head with his lower lip pouting nonchalantly. "Don't call me or come by my house. I would tell you to keep walking if you see me on campus, but thankfully you're leaving anyway."

"Jerome," Judith whines, turning to watch him stroll off her yard with a scowl. A breath of the nippy night air catches in her lungs, burning like frostbite and tracing the mourning of their broken relationship down her face.

"Incredible performance, truly. I might just use his wrath for my performance in the play," David says while clapping slowly. She averts her anger to him, the porch light casting down on them and blurring his face. Vera sniffles, her lips agape and her teeth chattering.

Taking jagged breaths, she says, "I hate you."

Judith rushes up the steps, and he drops his arms, then furrows his eyebrows. When she reaches him, he grips her arm before she steps past. She jerks back and gasps from the swift motion

"What the fuck did you say, Jude?" He tightens his hold on her, and her face shrinks similar to someone tasting a lemon. He thrusts her body closer to his, and his eyes dart left and right, staring into both of hers.

"Get inside, Vera," she tells her sister without looking away from her ex. Vera shakes her head no.

"I don't wanna leave you," she whines, snot glistening against her lip philtrum. Rembrandt opens the door with a dull expression, standing in a white shirt and ash-grey slacks. He pauses at the arch and lifts a brow at them.

"What the hell is going on?" David releases her when he hears her uncle's thunderous voice. "Veranda, get inside."

"My name's not Veranda," she yells before sprinting past him, and he follows her with his eyes until she steps behind him. Judith watches David step down, the two shooting daggers at each other, and when he turns his back to her, she looks at her uncle.

"Her name's Sauvera," she corrects him, then steps closer. "But I wouldn't expect you to know since you're never in our lives until something bad happens. How much longer until you leave?"

He slams the back of his hand against her cheek, and she gasps, her eyes flaring wider. The sound resembles a whip cracking against flesh, and Rembrandt watches her take the red mark in her fingers.

"I'm here for Sheryl, and I'm staying until she asks me to leave, but while I'm here, you bastards will show me respect." Her eyes dim, and she narrows them at him. Her mother approaches him with her arms crossed over her chest. "You dig?"

"What's going on? Who's at the door, and why's Vera crying," she floods him with questions and stands behind him, peering over his shoulder. "Judy, what's wrong? Did something happen while y'all were at his house?"

"No." She licks, then bites her lips as she drops her arms. "Could I please get through?"

Sheryl looks at Rembrandt, and he steps aside along with her. Judith walks down the path they formed, and as he shuts the door, her mother watches her ascend the staircase.

***

Judith's reclining in bed with the top of her back leaning against her headboard. Her bobbing head and fluttering eyes hurt as she fights sleep, staring idly at her bare feet.

A loud knock jumps her upright, and she blinks rapidly as the person on the other end of her door knocks twice more.

"Who is it," she asks, her blanket falling onto her lap.

"It's us," Stevie says, and as her shoulders drop with relief, a sigh escapes her chest. "Are you decent?"

"Yeah, come in." He turns the knob upon her permission, and the door creaks back, revealing him and Vera in their matching navy blue and black pajamas.

She sprints toward the bed, and he shuffles after her. As he shuts the door, Vera stops in front of Judith's nightstand.

"Can we sleep in here," Vera asks, taking shuddery breaths. Her face is red and clammy from a mixture of sweat and tears. Stevie turns his back to the door and folds his arms as he watches his twin with a sympathetic gaze.

Judith takes her comforter's edge and yanks it back, then scoots to the right of the bed. Vera crawls into the provided space and sniffles, and as she lies her head on the pillow, Judith and Stevie lock eyes.

"There's plenty of space left for you," Judith tells him, and he shakes his head with his lips pursed.

"I just brought her in here because she was crying." Judith sits the blanket over her younger sister, then glances at her clock, informing them that it's midnight. "You should go to the police."

"For what?" He leans his face forward and creases the skin above his nose bridge at her question. Vera flips onto her left side and fixes her gaze on his knees.

"He hits you and scares her," he reminds her, and Judith sighs, lowering her eyes onto the side of Vera's face. "He's worse than a rabid dog: at least with them, you can put them down. He needs to go to jail."

"Stevie, you're only thirteen, so you may not understand, but if I call the police on him, it'll make things worse, and it'll ruin his future; if I don't get him killed." He rolls his eyes and scoffs incredulously.

"You're unbelievable." Judith darts her eyes upward without lifting her head. "You wanna get killed, then be my guest, but he hit me. I agreed not to tell Mom because you said you'd handle it!"

"Lower your voice before she comes in here," she warns him. Vera wipes her temple when tears trail toward her pillow.

"I don't give a fuck," he says louder, and her heart drops into her stomach. "Constantly thinking about other people before us, and we gotta suffer your stupid choices. Call the police, tell Mom, or I'll do both!"

Stevie turns his grimace to the door, jerks it open, and stomps into the hall without looking back. As it shuts behind him, Vera sniffles and sighs.

"Wanna know something secret," Vera asks, her voice soft and shaky. Judith turns to her and takes a deep breath.

"Yeah," she answers in the form of a question.

"I always knew he would, like, hit you and stuff. I heard Ma talking to someone on the phone when you went away, and she said something about you having bruises." Judy looks at the window across from her bed and runs her hands through her sister's hair, tucking them behind her ears. "I guess I never really said anything about it because - I thought he was groovy, and you seemed okay. I mean, you were quiet and everything, but - I don't know."

"It's okay. It'll be okay." Judith sighs and sits her hand against Vera's ringlets. She caresses each carefully rolled section under her thumb, faking a smile at her younger sister.

"I hope he goes to jail. Stevie's right: you think about others too much - and David scares me." Judith stops combing her fingers through her hair, then Vera pulls the blanket over her shoulder and shuts her eyes.

While her sister rests, she turns her legs off the bed and stands on her feet. Judith walks through the moonlight into her bathroom, flicks the switch by the door, then continues to her sink.

She stares at her reflection in the vanity. Her hair is tucked in a ponytail with strands swaying unbrushed and her eyes, low and weary, gravitate toward the darkening handprint on her right arm.

Her eyebrows twitch, and she lowers her head to look at it. She lifts her hand and rests her palm against the bruise, hiding it from herself.

Judith lifts her eyes onto the open door. She licks her lips, and when she darts her eyes back to her reflection, they widen at the sight of another on her neck. When she thrusts her hands around it, it fades from her imagination.

***

"Stevie, pass your sister the milk bottle," Sheryl instructs him from the kitchen. Judith descends the stairs with her arms around her torso, a red and black flannel shirt draping to the thighs of her jeans. Sheryl looks at her and brings her brows together. "Judy, why aren't you dressed?"

She looks at Jerome's folded sweatshirt in her daughter's arms. His scent lingers on the grey fabric: sweat, mint, and pine.

"I wanted to take a friend his shirt back, and I don't really feel like listening to people judge me." Sheryl crosses her arms at the sink, a floral apron tied around her waist.

"Maybe hearing someone judge you," she says with air quotes. "As you put it, will do you some good. We're leaving for Brooklyn on Thursday, and by then, I want us to leave our issues in this house."

"Then maybe we should all go to a shrink instead of a man in a white necklace who claims to hear God." Stevie chokes on his cereal.

"Don't be sacrilegious!" Rembrandt steps into the kitchen with a plate of bread crusts and sausage skin. He shakes his head as Sheryl yells, "If you want to stay home, be my guest, but don't be disrespectful!"

"I wish I was old enough to not be forced to wear this stupid tie and go to church," Stevie grumbles as Judith makes a beeline to the front door. Rembrandt sits his plate among the other dirty ones, and Sheryl faces the sink.

Judith stops on her porch with the knob in hand, and she scans the neighborhood of people piling into their vehicles and birds chirping from the leafless trees.

Shutting the door behind her, she descends the steps and watches Hendrix ride his bike with an open bookbag of newspapers.

"Good morning," he greets her before flinging her newspaper like a frisbee. It lands at her feet, and she glances at it, then at him. "Is Stevie coming out later?"

"No, he's going to church with my mom and Vera," she informs him, and he cracks a smile.

He chuckles and says, "I'm glad I'm not Christian. It's too hot out here."

"Hey, neighbor!" She turns her head and rolls her eyes at David waving from his porch. Hendrix cycles down the cul-de-sac, reaching his hand behind him and flinging papers left and right. "I have something I need to give you later."

Don't say anything, Judy. Just keep walking.

She walks off her property and speed-walks down the sidewalk to Jerome's house. When she reaches his porch, she knocks three times, and on the third knock, Xavius opens the door in nothing but grey and white flannel pajama pants.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." She sighs and rolls her eyes at his statement. "What do you want, Jefferson?"

"Jerome. Why else would I come here, and how do you know my last name," she asks, and he looks to his left, then at her.

"It's on your mailbox." She nods her head, and he glances at the sweatshirt in her grasp. "He doesn't wanna see you. You pissed him off, and seeing you makes me feel nauseous too."

"For fuck's sake," she mutters, then shoves past him with her elbow striking the left side of his chest.

"Hey!" He closes the door and turns to her. Before she takes another step, he grabs her left arm, and she tenses with a gasp through clenched teeth.

"Get off of me!" Xavius spins Judith toward him, and she drops the sweatshirt between them, pressing her hands to his firm chest.

"I said he doesn't wanna see you!" Eric steps into the living room from the kitchen with a can of Tab soda in each hand. He stops over the line and stares at them in confusion.

"Get off her," he calmly orders him, and when he doesn't release her, Eric approaches them. Xavius towers over his five-ten height by three inches, and he narrows his eyes. "Let her go."

Xavius looks at Judith, then releases her arm. She takes Jerome's sweatshirt, and Eric tosses his right arm over her shoulder, guiding her to the staircase.

They climb the stairs with her in front, and when they reach the second floor, he says, "You need to learn to protect yourself. It's getting embarrassing."

She stops above the stairs, he walks around her, and she watches him step into Jerome's room with a scowl on her face.