#WritcoStoryPrompt29
I ran all the way home from the ground. The older boys had beaten me up good but I still had the strength to run as far as I could from them.
I knew my mother would be the next one to thrash me for getting beaten up, which was ironical, if you know what I mean. But I had no choice. I couldn't tell her the real reason the boys picked on me...
Still panting from my narrow escape, I steadied my fear for being chased and facing my mom's long eyebrows. I succeeded.
I'm a sprinter and a young leader, both at the same time, today.
Maybe on another day, I wouldn't hold my daily destiny this tenderly, but here I was about to speak truth to the truth herself.
The words made up themselves inside and within the chords of my humanity.
"They are bad mom, really bad."