Doll House

by Amour

Genres: Urban Fantasy

Synopsis

In the gritty streets of Toledo, Ohio, Doll finds her world turned upside down. Her mother, April Jones, is back on drugs, and her guardian, Unc, winds up in jail, leaving her to face the world alone. Her first love, Zae, is the father of the baby she miscarried, and he has broken her heart. It seems as if all her friends are jealous and stab her in the back. After all the lies, drama, tears, and betrayals, she decides to move to Atlanta to be with her aunt and her younger sister, Fall. There she finds the love of her life, but her first love isn' t done with her. Zae believes that if he can' t have her, then no one will. She soon realizes that Atlanta consists of the same hate Toledo had for her, plus a few deaths. Doll is convinced that she' s cursed, because it seems as if she can' t get a break to save her life. Will she overcome the misery that wants to accompany her? Only time will tell.

Release date: September 1, 2013

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“So Unc is in jail?” Kola asked. She was obviously worried, almost to death.

“Yeah, I just walked in to Auny, crying, and she told me they just picked him up,” I said, barely mustering a response.

Life had really kicked my ass the past couple of years. My mom was back on drugs, and my provider was incarcerated. What was a girl to do?

My name is Sommer Jones, but everyone calls me Doll. I’m fifteen years grown. . . . I say “grown” because I’ve been through more than the average person can imagine. My uncle Jim, whom everyone calls Unc, and his wife, Leslie, whom everyone calls Auny, took me in when I was almost ten years of age.

I have a younger sister named Autumn. Her nickname is Fall, and she is two years my junior. It’s odd, because I was born in the fall and she was born in the summer. That’s just how backward my mother, April Jones, was. She was on drugs very hard, so it was either foster care or a family member taking us in, and I thank God that we had family. My aunt Sasha took custody of Autumn when we were younger, and moved her to Atlanta to be with her and her daughter, Jasmine.

My mother got hooked on drugs a long time ago. It was way before my sister and I were even born. Sad to say, my father had gotten her hooked on the shit. My dad was abusive, and he was a crackhead—what a combination. My mom was on and off of drugs; whenever she quit, something made her crawl right back. I figured she loved coke more than she loved Fall and me. My dad’s family blamed her for everything, but how can you blame a young, naive girl trying to keep up with her older boyfriend?

Hell, them bastards didn’t even try to gain custody of us. When the judge asked who would step up, his whole family sat silent in the courtroom. Fuck them, though. We didn’t need them. Unc assured me that I didn’t, and he spoiled me to remind me of it.

I remembered it like it was yesterday. I was nine, and Fall was seven. My mother was in the kitchen with her junkie boyfriend, sniffing lines. Her black hair was matted, her eyes were big, and sweat was dripping from her forehead. My sister and I were hiding in the corner of our front room. We knew them being high meant a fight was sure to follow.

About thirty minutes after she and her sickly-looking boyfriend got done snorting, they began to argue. I guess he felt she had had more of the coke than he did. That wasn’t going to fly with him. He grabbed her by the neck and pushed her up against the wall, leaving a hole. She slid down the wall, holding her neck and crying for him to stop. My sister and I began to cry also. He turned to us and yelled, “You little bitches better shut the fuck up!”

I put my hand over Fall’s mouth, but I couldn’t stop her from screaming. He grew angry. He began walking over to us with hate in his eyes. He grabbed us both by our ponytails. He held them so tight, I could feel my hair being pulled by the roots. We both began to scream loudly. My mother just sat there watching, with tears falling from her eyes. She never told him to stop. She never got up to try to make him stop. She didn’t give a fuck.

Her boyfriend, whom she called Babe, threw us on the floor. We grabbed each other, trying to get closer to one another. He began unbuckling his dirty pants.

Our eyes got big as we both sat and wondered what was on his mind. My mom stood up, finally.

“Babe, no! Them my babies,” she cried.

“Shut up,” he yelled. He made us all jump.

My mother sat back down. I wondered if she felt as if there was nothing she could do, but she could have done something.

He let his pants drop, and his little penis was hard.

I covered my eyes. Ugh!

He motioned for us to come closer.

Babe was all we knew him as, because that was all my mother called him. We never called him anything, though. We never needed to. He was in his twenties, but coke made him look fifty. He was missing one of his front teeth, and the rest were rotten. He had the nappiest hair I had ever seen, and he always smelled like beer. When he saw we didn’t move a muscle, he got angrier.

“Bitch, get over here now and suck my dick,” he yelled.

I didn’t know who he was talking to, but I knew that neither one of us was going to do it.

He snatched my little sister up by the arm. “Are you deaf?” he asked.

She shook her head no.

He told her to suck his dick again, and she shook her head no again.

“So you think you can disobey me?” He asked as he let go of her arm. He took his brown leather belt off and started hitting our bodies anywhere and everywhere.

We screamed and tried to take cover, but it hurt like hell. He whupped us for what seemed like forever.

When he was done with us, we had welts all over our bodies. He ran some steaming hot water in the bathtub for us and forced us to get in. We cried, as the water made the welts sting badly. He just kept yelling at us, calling us bitches, and laughing. My mom never came in the bathroom to save us.

When we got out of the tub, there my mother was again, snorting. She acted as if the situation had never happened. I didn’t understand her. I went to lie on the floor with my sister, and I held her close. I prayed we’d see a brighter day.

The next day in school, I tried my hardest to hide my welts, but they were everywhere. The fact that I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt didn’t make it any better. My fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Dressel, called me up to her desk. She had been looking at me crazily the entire day.

When I approached her desk, she asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell her. I told her no, and then she sent me to the office. I grabbed my things and made my way to the office. I walked kind of funny because it hurt when my jeans rubbed against my legs. When I made it to the office, there was a blonde Caucasian lady sitting in a chair with a notepad.

Moments later Fall arrived. The lady took us to a secluded room and began questioning us. I told her that nothing was wrong, that our life was normal. Fall told her we had just got our asses beat for not sucking my mother’s boyfriend’s dick.

They took us straight to CSB, and the rest was history.

When I first moved in with Unc and Auny, my mother went to rehab. After she completed rehab, which took damn near three years, they thought it was a great idea for us to visit her on the weekends. My aunt Sasha wasn’t having that, and besides, she was all the way in Atlanta. To me it sounded cool, and my mother did seem as if she was doing a lot better.

People always ask me if I love my mother. I can honestly say no. Why should I? There’s no reason to. She made my life a living hell, and for that reason she doesn’t even deserve a piece of my love. I was just too kindhearted, though. It didn’t matter if someone did me wrong; I always found some way to give them another chance. Even if they fucked me over a million times, I always forgave them, and that was the only reason I went to visit her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by not going.

My mother lived in Brand Whitlock, a very gritty and rugged place on the south side of Toledo, Ohio. It didn’t bother me much, because I had lived there the majority of my life. When I returned, it was more like a hood reunion with my old friends.

When we pulled into the complex, everyone eyeballed Unc’s money-green BMW 745. I swear, a couple of niggas were even drooling.

Once we got in front of my mother’s building, I spotted some eye candy. He was mixed in with four other people. I had been going over to visit my mother every weekend for almost two months now, and I had never seen him before.

He was about five foot six, probably a buck fifty, and had a low-cut fade, hazel eyes, and a tasty caramel complexion. He rocked a Bulls jersey and the latest Jordans on his feet. I knew they were the latest because I happened to have the same ones on my feet.

I’d always grabbed the attention of the niggas in these projects. Practically everywhere I went, niggas just flocked to me! I was a five-foot-four, 115-pound, light-skinned beauty with sandy brown hair that hung past my shoulders. I had a nice shape too. Not too much, not too little . . . and, boy, could I dress! This gave anybody in their right or wrong mind just enough reason to want me!

Seeing that my future fling was right there in my presence, I made a mental note to make sure I threw an extra swish into my strut.

I said my good-byes to Unc and Auny and stepped out of the car. I must admit, all eyes were on me, and I was loving it! Mr. Eye Candy gave me the head-to-toe look as he licked his lips. I knew that after Unc pulled off and I got rid of my bags, I was coming for him.

When I walked into my mother’s place, it smelled like rose petals. Surprisingly, it was clean! She came from the back with a big smile on her face. It kind of felt good to see her smiling. It was a warming feeling.

“Hey, baby,” she said with her arms extended toward me.

“Hey, Mom. How are you?” I asked. I acted as if I cared.

We embraced each other, sharing a dry hug, and then I hurried to sit down. I gave her place the routine inspection. You know, checking for creepy crawlers, like I did every weekend. She passed the test: no roaches, mice, spiders, or anything else that would make me want to go home immediately.

We sat and watched Judge Judy, and eventually I fell into a deep sleep.

I was shaken and awakened by my ex–best friend, Imani. She was a very pretty black and white mixed cutie with light caramel skin. She had long curly black hair, which she kept in a ponytail at all times. She was boy crazy and kept a new boyfriend. I didn’t see how they liked her, because her house was always junky. I didn’t understand how it was humanly possible for anybody to live there, but they managed. We had been friends for four years, but when I moved in with Unc, we drifted apart.

“Wake up, funky bitch! I missed you,” were the first words out of her mouth.

“Didn’t yo’ mama ever tell you it’s rude to wake up someone? Damn, I do need my beauty sleep, Mani,” I said while rubbing my eyes.

“When you become so proper?” She asked and chuckled.

“I don’t have to be ghetto all the time,” I told her.

According to Imani, my mom had left with one of her sugar daddies, so she decided to keep me company for a while. She enlightened me, telling me everything I had missed out on since my departure from the projects last week, like who was still a virgin and who wasn’t, and who fought whom, and so on and so forth. She got up to go in the kitchen to get something to drink and came back running her mouth again.

“So, Doll, you still ain’t got you no dick?”

“Imani, how many times do I have to tell you I ain’t thinking about doing it. It seem like you tryin’a pressure me into fucking.” I rolled my eyes. This had become the weekly question.

“I ain’t tryin’a force you. I’m just saying you missing out.” She chuckled. I sat there imagining how the boys’ faces screwed up when they walked into her nasty-ass house. If they did it to her in there, then they clearly had no respect for her. I decided to change the subject.

“So who’s that caramel nigga with the hazel eyes?” I didn’t waste any time asking, knowing she would know. I regretted leaving my mission unaccomplished and putting sleep before it.

“Who? Zae?” She seemed puzzled. She knew who the hell I was talking about.

“How do I know when I’m asking you?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Had on a Bulls jersey?” She asked, making sure we were talking about the same guy.

“Yeah, that’s him,” I replied.

“Mmm-hmm, that’s Zae. He sexy, ain’t he?” The expression on her face didn’t match her words.

“Is he? Girl, he is fine!”

Then she went on to tell me that she was really good friends with Zae and that she was messing around with his cousin, Malcolm.

We decided to go outside to see if he was still out there. I guess we were a little too late, because homeboy was pulling off in a two-door, red candy–colored old-school Monte Carlo that sat on some dubbs.

“That’s his car?” I was astonished. My mouth hit the ground.

“Yes, he’s paid, girl! Plus, I heard he got that magic stick too!”

Owing to the fact that I was a virgin, I knew damn well that the magic stick wasn’t going to be doing any types of tricks on me. I was only thirteen, and in my mind I was too young to even think of having sex.

We decided to walk to a corner store. It seemed like a much farther walk than it had been three years ago, since I hadn’t walked there since then. You would think there would be a closer store in the neighborhood, but I guess since we were in the hood, they didn’t give a damn. The store was on the 1100 block of Belmont, too damn far for me. I complained the entire time.

“Girl, it ain’t even that far. We almost there,” Imani said.

“You’ve been saying that for what seems like forever, and we still ain’t there yet,” I told her.

Somebody honked a horn that sounded like a whistle. Impressive. We turned around, and there he was. Rims sitting high, seat back, music blasting, with a gorgeous smile on his face. It was Zae.

There was a guy on the passenger side, and they pulled over to the side of us. We stopped.

“Imani, why the hell y’all walking by y’all selves?” asked the guy in the passenger seat as he stepped out of the car.

“Malcolm, whose daddy are you?” Imani answered as she headed over to him. I stood there watching and felt Zae’s eyes all over my body.

“Man, get in the car! If something happens to my baby, I’m going to shoot up this whole block,” Malcolm said, referring to Imani.

I figured that was his way of running game on her.

She smiled. “Come on, Doll.”

Malcolm pulled his seat up so we could get in the backseat.

“Hey, Ma, you can get in the front,” he told me.

That definitely wasn’t a problem for me. While they climbed their asses in the back, I jumped my happy ass in the front.

As we passed the store, I grew nervous. Yeah, homeboy was fine as hell, but I didn’t know much about him. I played it cool, though.

We pulled up to this nice house on Tecumseh. I assumed the house had been built recently, because it looked new and it sat a nice distance from the other homes.

The car stopped, and Zae looked back at Malcolm.

“So what up?”

“Shit, I’m trying to chill with Mani,” he said, looking at her for an answer. “If that’s possible. . . .”

“Yeah, that’s cool, but I got my homegirl with me,” she told him while patting my arm.

“Well, I can take her home since I see you got my cousin all sprung and he dying to chill with you,” Zae offered.

“Doll, you cool with that?” Imani smiled, knowing that I was cool with it without a doubt.

I sarcastically paused for a second and looked back at her. “It’s cool. Have fun, sweetie,” I replied.

They got out of the car and disappeared behind the door. I watched, wishing we could have kicked it a little while longer. Now I had to revisit boredom. When I got out of my trance, I found Zae staring at me.

“Can I assist you, sir?” I asked.

“Yeah. Actually, you can. How old are you?” he asked as if he had been dying to ask me that the entire trip.

“I’m thirteen, but I’ll be fourteen in two weeks,” I replied, wondering if I should have lied about my age. “And you?”

“I’m sixteen. I’ll be seventeen next month. The fifteenth of October, to be exact.”

He was even sexier up close. In my thirteen years of living, never had I ever wanted to have sex with someone just by looking at them. Zae definitely had me wet, and I fell in lust.

“So you going to that same apartment you went into earlier?” he asked. I knew he was trying to make sure that was where I lived.

I played dumb.

“Earlier? When did you see me?” I asked, trying to pretend that I hadn’t noticed him then.

“Shit, you hopped out a Beemer and went into apartment two-forty-five. I couldn’t help but watch you, young buck,” he replied.

“Young buck? What an insult.” I was offended and knew that I really should have lied about my age.

“Sorry, baby. You are young, though.” He chuckled.

“Age wise, yes, but mentally, I’m grown,” I said, pointing to my head. My eyebrows went up.

“Well, Miss Grown Ass, is that where I’m taking you?” He pulled off of Tecumseh.

“Yes, it is.” I wanted to go with him, but my number one life rule was “Always hungry, never thirsty.”

He pulled up to the apartment, and I hesitantly opened my car door.

“Thanks,” I said with my head down.

“No problem,” he replied.

As I was getting out, he grabbed my arm.

“Write my number down,” he suggested.

“Excuse me? Nigga, I got a phone!” I said while pulling out my Cricket cellular.

We exchanged numbers.

“Make sure you use it,” I stated before hopping out of his car.

He was still parked outside when I walked into the building. While I was in the elevator, my phone began to vibrate. I received a text, which read, I don’t know what it is ’bout u but I want u bad, Ma.

If only Zae knew that the feeling was mutual.

I had a feeling that someone was watching me. I looked over to find some weird old man staring at me from the corner of the elevator. I didn’t think anything of it, because guys stared at me on a daily. I thought it was pretty normal.

The elevator stopped at my floor, so I stepped off, walked to my mother’s door, and opened it. She was still gone. As I began to walk toward the back of the house, I heard the door open.

“That bitch be on the go, don’t she?” I mumbled to myself while walking back up front, believing it was her coming through the door. To my surprise, it was the weird man from the elevator.

I turned back around and ran toward my mother’s room, but he caught me by my ponytail and dragged me to the front room. He picked me up by my throat and threw me on the couch. I instantly started crying.

“Bitch, shut the fuck up before I kill you!” he yelled, spitting every word in my face. He started unbuckling my pants. In the back of my head, I prayed that I wouldn’t lose my virginity by being raped.

The door popped open again, which scared both of us. It was Zae.

“Man, Jean, get the fuck off her! What you on, dude?” he said while pushing him off of me.

“Sorry, son! Man, I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” the old man begged.

I gasped for air, holding my throat.

“Get yo’ ass out, and don’t come back!” Zae demanded.

Jean scurried out, and I ran to the bathroom. I locked the door. I sat on the floor and cried. I was embarrassed. Tears fell from my eyes.

I heard knocks at the door. “Open the door, Doll. It’s cool. He gone!”

I didn’t want to open it, but at the same time I didn’t want to stay there. I opened the door and laid my head on his chest.

“It’s cool, Ma. You can cry.” He hugged me, and I just shed all the tears my soul had within.

“Grab your shit. You can’t stay here tonight,” he said, comforting me.

I got my stuff, and we left.

When we arrived at our destination, I didn’t know where we were, but I knew it was at least an hour away from the Brands. The house we pulled up to was enormous. It was the biggest house I had ever seen.

“Whose house is this?” I asked with a raspy voice, as if I had been crying for days.

“My parents’. Mine’s in the back. We got to cut through,” he said while pointing to a walkway.

When we got to his house, it was definitely laid out. Big-screen TV, leather furniture, a big-ass fish tank . . . everything you could name. He showed me to his guest room and turned on the lights.

“You can just crash here. I’ll take you home in the morning.”

I wanted to sleep in a room with him because I didn’t feel safe no matter how far we were from Jean. The expression on my face must have said it all.

“Or do you not feel secure?” He asked. “’Cause I want you to feel safe, specially if you with me. Feel me?”

I nodded.

He started walking to his bedroom, and I followed. His bed was beyond big. It had to be a king, because it was the size of Unc’s bed and he had a king-size bed. It looked like a female had decorated it. There was no way a man could have put that shit together. His bed was tall and plush, and I sank deep into the mattress as I lay down. Once I took my shoes off, I was out.

I woke up to the smell of breakfast. I looked at the clock, which read 10:45 A.M.

Zae was no longer next to me, so I got up and walked to the front to see where he was.

He was in the kitchen, cooking with no shirt on. Boy, was he sexy.

“You hungry, Ma?”

“How did you know that I was up?” I asked with a smile as I took a seat at the table.

“Just had a feeling.” He faced me and smiled back, revealing his six-pack. I had always loved a man that was in shape, and in shape he was.

Although I still felt disgusted by the events that took place yesterday, he made me feel so good.

“I’m sorry about what happened last night. He just been bucking. You know, doing the unthinkable,” he tried to explain. I began to wonder how he even knew the guy.

“It’s cool. I’m trying to forget about it. . . .