PROLOGUE

I crouched for another round of disruption, taking cover in my square box. The dark cloud floated to my room, and a steel jagged blade of rage rumbled through my body. When the sun goes down, the raised voices from my parents’ room always come on like clockwork. Every spew felt like a hot dagger driven into my heart, leaving a fresh stain of blood on my bedroom floor.

To outsiders, perched atop a hill on the northern edge of the town, our ‘Family Matters’, 1990s sitcom-style home was the ideal dwelling. A façade that others foolishly lusted after. Our lavish back-yard, well-kept lawn, and four-story stacked house fooled even our closest friends. ‘Charisse and Raven’! Alarmed at the thought of my twin baby sisters scared out of their minds because of our parents’ raised voices.

I bolted from my room and tiptoed down the dull brown carpeted stairs till I got to the room door of the twins, my sisters. I held the knob firmly, wincing to block out the sound of the creaking door. The moonlight shined through their window revealed their glowing faces, their hands clamped together in peaceful harmony, and their eyes closed. I exhaled, freeing the tension trapped in my shoulders. I was envious of them as they slept soundly amid the storm. I cautiously shut the door behind me and floated back up to the top of the mountain.

“SIX STEPS AWAY, and I am in the safe zone,” I tell myself, stepping forward one foot at a time.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” The monster growled, and I froze. I muffled a whimper about to escape my lips and turned slowly to face him. His red eyes glowered as he stood tall in the narrow hallway.

“I was putting back some books. My desk was a mess, so I cleared off some space.” My voice quivered. The monster stared at me and shouted through gritted teeth, “You best go to bed and stop sneaking around! Stay out of grown-ups' business!”

“Yes, sir,” I croaked, sprinting the last short distance to my room. The man I grew up loving and adoring was overtaken by a legion of demons disfiguring his once winsome face. He gave a curt nod, turned around, and walked back upstairs to finish berating my mother. They never argued in our presence, but I can hear and feel the turmoil vibrating through the walls and ceiling. Sadly, it turns out that not every ‘high school sweetheart’ story has a sweet ending.

Some — my parents, should never have happened. I locked the door behind me, my eyes brimming with tears and

my chest quivering. After allowing myself to cry, I turned to God, prayer, and music—my tested and trusted friends, to help me get through the night. While the soulful voice of Whitney Houston blocked out the bickering, I penned down a vow in my diary.

THE VOW

IN ALL OF MY LIFE, I know this. Marriage is a disease eating away at my flesh and bone. I, Amari Hamilton, vow never to fall prey to men who may keep me down within the confines of marriage. I promise never to get married and never have kids.

Amari Hamilton