Qadira arrived home, banging on the glass of storm door. She heard the clicking of her mother's heels down the two stairs. Her parents had never allowed the use of the front door. The side door, they had considered safer. Qadira believed they wanted to avoid their neighbors or the mail carrier, staying hidden behind their bars.
"Mama open the door," Qadira said, pressing the bell hoping she wouldn't ignore it again. She snapped her hand back when a sting of electricity shocked her.
Her mother propped the door open and flipped through her keys on circular steel key chain to find the one to unlock the iron gate. She tried two before Qadira snatched them from her.
"What if there's a fire," her daughter said, forcing a key in the gate's lock. "You'll burn to death."
"Stop it." Mrs. Anderson played a tug-a-war with the key ring. Qadira won. Her eyes froze on the lock. "Who now made this key not to work?"
Qadira rattled the gate. "Oh no, Bobby came out your head and change the lock."
Mrs. Anderson moved back a step. "When did you change the lock on my door?"
"I made that up. Bobby is in your head." Qadira slumped her body against the house's aluminum sliding. Police helicopters flash their lights over her pitch black driveway. "Let me in, they're looking for somebody."
"I need to finish talking to Bobby."
The police disappear with their lights leaving the light beaming from inside the kitchen. The light was no help; it only lit up the door way where her mother stood.
Qadira rubbed her eyes to focus in the dark. She sat down on her suitcase. Wanting a gun to shoot her mother and busy body Dwayne. Both of them were useless. Her face tightened fighting off ramming her fist in between the bars at her mother. She couldn't tell she had trouble in her life. Those people were so important in her head. This wasn't right she had been given a mother like her. What was she good for? No way she would keep living this frivolous life.
Mrs. Anderson mumbled on about Bobby's brother told him to change the locks. Qadira reached over to close the storm door. That could go on for hours. Qadira smacked the concrete from a fist hitting her jaw.
"How much money you got on you," said the middle girl who appeared to have eaten a truck. She shoved the gun in Qadira's mouth.
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