My ma holds her phone in the air. She’s video recording them and for the life of me I don’t know why. I slide between them so they won’t hit each other.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say to Cora? That her piece-of-shit mom doesn’t want her?” I yell, balling my fist. If she were a man, I’d beat the shit out of her.

“You’re a smart man, figure it out,” she says, glaring at Ma. “Are you recording me?” She rushes up to Ma and tries to snatch the phone from her, tossing it to the wooden floor.

“You’re going to jail for what you’re doing,” my ma yells, then picks up her phone and begins aiming the phone at her again.

“Keep your voices down. I don’t want Cora to hear,” I say. Rainbow rushes upstairs, I’m assuming to check on Cora. I’m so done with this bitch. She needs to get the fuck out of here so I grab Rylee by the arm as she tries to pull away, kicking and shouting to let her go. When we’re outside, she bites down on my fingers and I let go, sticking them in my mouth. She bomb-rushes my ma, knocking the phone out of her hand again, then Rylee smacks her across the face. I grab Rylee by the waist again as she kicks and punches the air. I’m glad my nosy-ass neighbors aren’t close enough to watch the shit storm taking place. It’s pitch-black and the nearest streetlamp is a mile away from here.

“Let me go!” Rylee screams at me.

Alana takes out her phone from her pocket and makes a phone call. “I’d like to report an assault and fraud.” She gives them my address and hangs up the phone.

My ma picks up her phone from the ground and dusts off her blouse.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Alana asks.

“Yeah,” she says.

Alana glares at me as if she’s ready to chew my head off. Rylee tries to break free from my embrace, but I grip her harder.

“You’re hurting me!” Rylee yells.

Finally, two cops pull up to the driveway and I let her go.

“Officers, arrest this man, he’s hurting me,” Rylee says.

“Calm down, ma’am. Who made the call for assault?” the dark-haired guy asks.

“I did,” Alana says. “She assaulted my mom.”

“She’s abandoning her child, stole money from her, and she slapped me,” Ma yells, pointing to her face, then she takes out her phone and plays the video back for the officers to see. It’s the conversation from earlier.

They slap cuffs on Rylee’s wrists and usher her to the car as she cries.

“You need to come to the station and make a statement,” the brown-haired officer says to Ma.