She picked up the phone and looked at Messiah’s number. She stored it in her contacts, before tossing the phone to the bed. She wished she could call him. If she had a voice, she would. She desperately wanted to belong to someone, not out of obligation the way Ethic had inherited her, but out of need… the way a man wanted a woman to be only his. She wanted someone, anyone, to choose her, and to love her. Flaws and all. Until she found it, she would drown the loneliness in liquor and weed to distract herself from the things she couldn’t have.

The rays of the sun broke through the curtains, disrupting Morgan’s restless sleep. It blazed through her closed lids, illuminating her mind, and forcing her to open her eyes. She dreaded the discussion that was to come. The parenting. She never really took to the idea of anyone disciplining her, because that was the job of the people who made her. Ethic had not, therefore, his concern seemed manufactured. He’s just going through the motions. Nobody gives a fuck about a kid that doesn’t belong to them, she thought. She was just waiting for her 18th birthday to come around. She had already graduated high school. She would break out and never look back, even if she had to leave with just the clothes on her back. Morgan was itching to live life by her own rules.

She climbed out of bed and sauntered downstairs. Smeared mascara and remnants of last night’s Ruby Woo still stained her face.

“Mo’ Money!” Bella signed, calling Morgan by the nickname that she had since they were kids. Morgan smiled. She had a special place in her heart for Bella. She took a seat at the dining room table and took a fork to Bella’s plate.

“Is this my shirt, Bella?” Morgan signed. Ethic had made sure everyone living under their roof had learned sign language, so that they could communicate with one another.

“The fact that a 12-year-old can fit it means you shouldn’t have it on,” Ethic interrupted. He didn’t sign because he knew Morgan was zeroed in on him, anticipating his parental wrath.

“Ha, ha,” Morgan signed. “So, what’s my punishment for last night?”

Ethic’s face was serious. He was always so stern, as if he was in a constant state of deep contemplation. She was prepared for him to lock her in her room forever; but to her surprise, he said, “Let’s wash it, a’ight? I haven’t been as focused on you or them like I should, so I’m partly to blame. I need you to move smarter, though. I don’t want you in the city. You hear me? I need you to understand who you are.”