Page 1 of Desolation

Prologue

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.” I state sternly while looking up at my cousin. “Do it.”

She sighs before taking the bleach to my hair. I clench my jaw and fight everything inside of me. I love my hair, it reaches my mid-back, and it’s a gorgeous deep brown with caramel highlights. But I need to change it. I need to do this for myself and my daughters.

I watch through the bathroom mirror as my cousin soaks my hair in bleach, section by section. I force myself not to cry.

I can’t cry.

I need to be strong.

I need to do this to survive.

“You really think this will work?” she asks me.

I meet her gaze in the mirror. “I don’t have another choice.”

She nods as she wraps a shower cap over my head. “I wish you would just tell me what was going on. You know that Marco and the boys might be able to help.”

I turn around in the chair and stare at her. “You really think a gang can help with this?” I ask sardonically.

Her hands go to her hips. “Well, you ain’t told me a thing about what’s going on!”

“I’m trying to protect you.” I groan as I drop my face in my hands. “I shouldn’t have even come here.”

Janelle drops down in front of me, grabbing my hands. “No one else knows you’re here, right mama?”

I nod. Only one other person does but I am not telling her that.

“Then we’ll get you in and out of here as quick as possible.”

She wraps her arms around me stiffly as I hold the tears back in my eyes. I never thought this would be my life. Never thought I would come back to these streets for help. I put this life behind me a long time ago. I was on the path my life was meant to be on.

But I guess we can’t control the actions of others.

Or their motives.

Janelle finishes my hair and packs a bag of her clothes for me. Clothes I would never wear but I can’t be roaming the streets in silk blouses and slacks.

“You’re positive you want me to do this?”

No.

“Yes,” I say trying to keep the hesitation out of my voice.

Janelle starts mumbling in Spanish as she looks up at the ceiling. I don’t think she is going to do it but then out of nowhere her fist connects with my eye, followed quickly by a punch to the stomach, and a left hook to the jaw.

I crumple over in pain. “Ay dios mío!” I cry.

“I told you it would hurt.”

I look up at her and she grins at me but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I can tell she is worried.

“Glad to know that you haven’t forgotten your native language while you’ve been living up in your ivory tower.”

Now this is the cousin I remember. The bitch who hated me for the life I chose rather than supporting the family from the streets. “I haven’t forgotten shit. I gave you an out.”

---