Page 17 of Cannon

“Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down! You had me locked up like some crazy bitch!”

“I’m trying to help you?—”

“You’re trying to get rid of me!”

Her voice cracked on that last part, and for a second, I saw it. The fear under the fury. The girl who used to sneak into my bed after nightmares. But it was gone just as quick. She hawked and spat at me, the glob of saliva slapping my cheek.

My hand flew up so fast I startled even myself.

She dared me with her eyes and growled, “Do it.”

And I almost did.

It was just instinct. Reflex. Years of frustration and fear bubbling up all at once. But I caught myself mid-swing. My hand hovered in the air like time had paused to test me.

She saw it. Smirked like the devil. “Do it. Hit me. That’s what you really want, ain’t it?”

I shook my head and backed away, eyes burning.

“I hate you! This is all your fault!” She barked at me.

“How? How is this my fault? You got drunk! You know that drugs and alcohol trigger your episodes,” I responded.

“I flunked out of school! And I wanted to get drunk and party to make me feel better. But you had to lock me away—again!”

Hearing that she flunked out of school pissed me off. New School cost over $55, 000 a year. I’d done so much to get that money because she told me she just wanted to dance and dance would keep her in line. I believed her lies. But I can’t fault her. This just her illness.

“You can’t just lock me up and pretend this fixes everything,” she yelled as I walked toward the door. “You don’t love me. You love control.”

“You know that’s not true, Esperanza. This is not about controlling you. This is about getting you the help you deserve. You are not well, baby, but you gotta help me help you. You aren’t supposed to be doing drugs…”

“Except for the shit these doctors shove down my throat!”

“They help you.”

“Then why am I not helped yet? You know what? Get the fuck out. I don’t know why you bothered coming here. Unless you’re coming to offer a job at your club so I can dance, get out!”

I would never let her dance at the Sylk Road. Not with all those men, drugs and liquor. That would be giving her a death sentence. I nodded my head and fought back any tears that were desperate to fall.

My chest tightened like it was wrapped in wire. The panic came fast, heat crawling up my neck, edges of my vision going fuzzy. I didn’t stop to think. I bolted down the hall and into the nearest bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me.

Locked it. Dug through my purse like a madwoman until I found the crumpled paper bag I kept stashed for moments like this.

Breathe.

In. Out.

In. Out.

My hands shook as I pressed the bag to my mouth, trying to slow it all down. The air felt thin, my thoughts even thinner.

I caught my reflection in the mirror, eyes wild, makeup smudged, looking like a woman hanging on by threads.

I’d raised a girl with fire in her chest and glass in her voice. But somewhere along the way, that fire turned inward. And all I could do now was hold myself together and pray she didn’t burn all the way out.

Chapter 7

Queen