“Shhh.” Billy stroked her forehead. “It’s over now. No one is gonna hurt you again.” The fury that burned inside Billy made her feel like she was sitting in a sauna. She had heard horror stories about victims of rape and her heart had always gone out to them, but having it hit this close to home hurt her beyond words.

Though Billy had asked him to wait outside, Marcus crept to the doorway and observed from afar. Watching Billy comforting her battered friend almost brought him to tears. A man who would violate a woman in such a way was beyond the scum of the earth. Though he hadn’t known Yoshi very long, his sister stripped, too, making the offense feel too close to home. He could only imagine what he would do to someone if it had been Cat. Taking one last look at the tragic scene, Marcus left the women to their privacy.

When Rhonda entered her mother’s apartment, the first thing she smelled was chicken. Someone was in the kitchen frying the hell out of a bird and it had Rhonda’s stomach cramping up on her. She hadn’t eaten since that morning and all the weed she’d smoked since then had her ribs touching. She licked her lips in anticipation as she rounded the corner to crack on her mother for a piece of chicken, but her pleasant mood changed when she saw her sister Kelly sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hello, Rhonda,” Kelly said, in a tone that made Rhonda feel like it was a task to speak to her.

“What’s up,” Rhonda replied, matching her tone. For a minute the two sisters just stared at each other without speaking. Though they had been born and raised in the same house, the two of them shared a less-than-sisterly affection. Rhonda rolled her eyes and opened up the refrigerator.

“So have you come to get your kids?” Kelly asked.

“Excuse you?” Rhonda paused from her rummaging.

“Your children,” Kelly repeated. “The two little people you pushed out of your ass.”

Rhonda folded her arms. “Why do you wanna know? I don’t remember leaving them with you.”

“No, but you left them on Mommy, once again.”

“Kelly, don’t start with me. Mommy wasn’t complaining about it.”

“And how would you know, not that you listen when people talk anyway. Rhonda, did it ever occur to you that she might not feel like baby-sitting your bad-ass kids after working a twelve-hour shift?”

“Bitch, don’t be talking about my kids,” Rhonda warned her.

Kelly adjusted her glasses, which were sitting atop her head. “Rhonda, you act like you don’t know your kids are bad-ass hell. When I was getting off the bus, Pooh and those little nappy-headed kids from down the street were throwing rocks at the winos in front of the liquor store.”