Layla POV

Me and my Dad scrutinized each other as our mom headed up the stairs. We've both disappointed her but, I know what's best for me, and that's America at the moment.

Me and Charles stood in excruciating silence. The tension was extremely high . I looked at my fathers features; examining for any emotion he could elaborate on. However, his face was blank.

So many terrible thoughts traveled through my head causing me to get a searing migraine. I started to caress my head in hopes the pain will come to a stop.

After the long silence I heard a few mumbles.

"What's wrong Layla?" Charles uttered out.

I just looked at him, and ignored him. His attempt to care for me is getting a bit tedious, he broke me from my thoughts as I heard him speak again

"C'mon what's wrong?" He repeated, but with more sympathy.

"I have a small headache that's all." I said giving in.

"Layla, if you don't mind me asking, why is there a hand mark on your face?" He Interrogated.

His question to me by a large surprise. My heart sunk in my chest, and my palms started to reek of  a mixture of sweat, guilt, and anger.

"The answer to your question is I do mind you asking, so if you could please leave me alone, that would be absolutely marvelous." I said with a large attitude.

His stupid brother did it.

"Layla, please, just tell me." He begged

I got exasperated with the mans consistence.

I got up and went to my room in hopes of changing the subject.

I lied down on my springy mattress and slowly closed my eyelids. Before I went into a deep slumber I heard a knock at my door.

I wonder who it is. Sarcasm

I opened my door and too my surprise it was my mother. She looked a mess. Her dark brown locks where knotted and frizzed up, her eyes were bloodshot red followed by her dark eyelids, and her body seemed more frail and limp then usual. She's been crying.

"Please mom come in," I ushered her in and she placed herself on my bed. I knew what she was going to say.

Why are you going to leave me Layla?

Nothing is going to change my mind about going to America.

"Layla," she said above the whisper.

"Yes mama?" I bolted towards her in anticipation of what she would say.

"Why do you want to leave America?" She said, standing up.

"Mom, I have more opportunities out in America. We don't have any money and I want what's best for us. Who is to say I'm going to stay in America for ever? I'm doing this so that me and you could live better lives. The money I make out there will be sent here and you can finally stop suffering. I'm tired, you're tired so lemme ask you. Why not?" I stated standing up with her.

"I just, well I ju--" she stumbled over her words pondering of an excuse to tell me.

"Mom," I said getting annoyed " I know you're holding me back because your afraid of being lonely." I stepped towards her; cupping her face looking in her eyes intently. "Mom, be strong for me, let me go. I'm of age to make my own decisions. I have enough money." I told her.

She then nodded in understanding.
"Baby," Nancy questioned. "How did you get that money?"

The amount of anger and guilt simmered in my stomach, and the steam exuded threw my pores at her question.

"I went to work at Damien's." I finally told her.

"Honey, you only worked for a little bit." She said arching a knowing brow.

"So how did you get all of that money?" She crossed her arms getting closer to me.

Her intense stares was enough to get a mass criminal to spill what they knew. The longer she stared at me, the more I grew uncomfortable.  

"I got the money by stealing it." I conceded with a bit of reluctance. I knew what was coming.

"Layla Amaya Osodo!" She bellowed. She said my whole entire name, I'm in some shit.

"Mom! You don't understand." I bellowed, I have to tell her what Damien did; or she'll think of me as a mass criminal.

"What is there to explain?"  She pressed becoming more and more cynical.

"Don't be skeptical mama." I told her.

"Damien tried to rape me. So I took the money and ran out." I confessed to her.

"He WHAT?" She grew more incensed.

She sat down, clearly affected by all that's happened today.

She locked her eyes with mine. I stared back looking for what she was feeling.
The eyes are windows to the soul.

She felt solicitous, sympathetic,  petty for me.

"Momma is Charles gone?" I asked

"Yes, I hit him with a broom and told him to get out. I don't want to see him ever again." She said

I rubbed her back trying to comfort her. I got up and gave her some space. I looked at the other items layered out on my dresser. They were more interesting then this awkward silence in my room at the moment.

"Layla, " she voiced.

" Yes mama?" I said running to her.

"Baby," she said reaching for my hand taking it into hers. "I want you to go to America, it's time."

I stood there, shocked.