Sweetened to be Bitter (Part 2, page 1 of 4)


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Part 2

I run my hands gently over the grey dress that met my ankles, tilting my head slightly through the mirror to assess the damage my dear ole father had done this time. A red hand print across my jaw from where he hit me and a split lip with a nasty shade of purple and blue. It wasn't as bad as the broken ribs he delivered last month. And it was always for talking back.

Tentatively, I brought my fingers to my lips only to have mother brush it away. "Leave it Justice," she snapped knotting the end of my braided hair dragging it a bit roughly than usual. "Why are you upset? I've done nothing wrong to offend you in any way," I stated calmly moving away from her. She looked so fragile as if she was going to pass out by the very blow of the wind. I should feel sorry for her, anyone married to my father really, with the exception of mother Angeline. They deserved each other, but the relationship my mother and I had was becoming nonexistent. She knew I didn't accept what we were. She knew I hated every men they brought here to be prospective husbands. She knew I hated being trapped in this depressive state of manner where girls like me or younger were to have babies, with numerous sister wives either filled with jealousy or submission trying to outdo each other. My mother knew all of it without me having to speak a word.

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