The stash

I snuck into my bedroom. I made sure my sisters weren’t around. I took the picture off the wall. I packed away my crack behind a poster framed picture of me rapping. The last time my sister Jayda saw me stash something, I woke up feeling underneath my pillow for my switchblade but it was gone. Jayda sneakily said, "I gave Nana your knife." But I believed no one knew about my secret stash. I emptied a sandwich bag filled with crack onto the bed. I counted each individual wrapped bag. Bags were missing! I knew who it was. And it wasn’t Jayda. It was my mother. I had to find another hiding place. Then one day, I found my mother in my room. She was looking for my new stash. "Give me a crack rock," she said. "No," I said. She was livid. I walked away. She followed me. She asked again. "No!" She slapped me in the face. I left the apartment. I pressed the elevator button. She shoved me. "Stop hitting me," I said. The elevator door opened. She slapped me again. I hit her back this time. My grandmother hurried into the hall to break us away from each other. I pressed the elevator button again. The door opened. I walked in. I looked my mother in her eyes. I’d been eaten; chewed by a cannibal. The elevator door closed.