4. Pluto Monroe
Moss Point
“ P luto, can you read me a bedtime story?” my little sister Zurie asked through drained eyes.
With a broken smile, I adjusted the blanket around her tiny shoulders and reached for the book on the nightstand. “Of course I can,” I said, brushing her curls out her face with the gentleness she deserved.
Zurie had just gotten out the hospital last week, after having another episode.
Her head had been hurting for days, and by the time we made it to the ER, she could barely walk straight.
The doctors said it was from her Chiari Malformation—something I had to look up on my phone that night, sitting alone in the waiting room while they ran tests.
It meant the bottom part of her brain, the cerebellum, was slipping down into her spinal canal, pressing on nerves.
Causing headaches, dizziness, balance issues, and even numbness in her arms. The way she looked at me when they wheeled her out with that IV in her hand still haunted me.
She was only six years old. Six… And this was her life.
I flipped open the book, my voice low and soft, reading a story she’d already heard a hundred times but never got tired of.
Her small hand curled into the fabric of my t-shirt as she snuggled closer, her breathing slow and peaceful.
For a second, everything felt quiet, like maybe this room could exist outside of all the mess.
But then she asked me something softly, like it had been sitting on her mind for days.
“Are you still moving out?”
My mouth went dry. I didn’t answer right away.
I just looked down at her and felt that lump I always tried to ignore crawl right back into my throat.
The truth was, I wanted to leave. Hell, I needed to.
I was twenty-four years old, sleeping in the back room of a busted two-bedroom apartment, when just a few years ago we were living in a mansion.
We used to live in a house with a long driveway and a double staircase.
I used to sneak down it at night and steal my mama’s cheesecake from the fridge.
Daddy used to barbecue on Sundays and bring us home little gifts when he came back from his business trips.
Back then, we were straight before he started drinking heavy.
Before the dice games and poker tables swallowed up our savings, and before we went from crystal chandeliers to peeling paint and a broken heater that made a loud knocking sound every time it came on.
I wanted to be free. I wanted out, but I couldn’t leave Zurie behind in this mess. Not with everything that was going on, with Mama slipping further into her own world and Daddy either not showing up at all or showing up drunk and dangerous, so I did the only thing I could do. I lied.
“No, baby,” I whispered, leaning down and kissing her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here.”
She looked up at me with so much trust in those tired little eyes, and when she hugged me, I hugged her back like I was trying to shield her from everything outside that bedroom door. I wanted to protect her from the screaming, the chaos and the weight she didn’t deserve to carry.
While we embraced, I heard the front door slam so hard it rattled the picture frame on the wall. Then came the yelling. Mama’s voice was raw and high-pitched. “Where the hell you been, huh Winston?! Drunk again?!”
I closed the book without finishing the last page and sat up. Zurie flinched and grabbed my arm.
“Stay here,” I told her, pressing my hand over hers. “Don’t move, okay?”
She nodded, her eyes wide. I got off the bed and walked to the door, cracking it just enough to hear what was being said.
“You sorry ass bastard,” Mama shouted from the living room. “I told you, I ain’t got it!”
“You get a damn check every month!” Daddy roared back. “Don’t play with me, Marlene. Gimme the money!”
“I got bills, Winston! Rent, lights, food—shit you don’t pay for!”
I felt something inside me start to shake. I wasn’t scared of him, but the rage he carried, especially when he’d been drinking was like a storm that tore through the whole house, and tonight, it sounded like it was coming.
By the time I stepped into the living room, he had already backed Mama up against the wall.
She was swinging her hands, yelling, standing her ground like always, but I could tell she was overwhelmed.
Her robe was half open, and her hair was wild from not combing it in days.
My mama had always been a little off, but lately it had gotten worse.
She talked to herself in the kitchen, she forgot things and when she wasn’t yelling, she was sitting on the couch rocking back and forth with her eyes blank.
I truly believe it was from all the trauma my daddy put her through.
“Where the fuck is it?!” Daddy screamed, lifting his arm.
“Don’t you put your hands on me!”
And just like that, his palm cracked across her face hard. I heard the smack echo down the hallway, and my legs moved before I could think.
I ran to the kitchen, yanked open the drawer, and pulled out the biggest knife I could find. My hands were shaking, but I held the blade tight and stormed back into the living room, yelling so loud my voice cracked.
“Get the fuck away from her!”
He turned toward me, his eyes yellow and glassy. His face looked sunken, like the liquor had drained whatever was left of the man I used to call my daddy.
“Oh, now you tough?” he slurred. “You pullin’ knives now?”
I held it up, my arm stiff even though my whole body felt like it might fall apart. “Don’t test me.”
He stepped closer, smiling like he wasn’t all the way human. “If you gon’ pull it, you better use it.”
“Mama’s not your punching bag,” I said, tears spilling down my cheeks. “And I’m not a little girl no more. I’ll protect her. I’ll protect Zurie. You don’t scare me.”
For a second, he just stared at me like he was weighing something in his sick little head. But then he turned, grabbed his jacket off the couch, and stumbled toward the door.
“I’m sick of all y’all,” he muttered. “Ungrateful-ass bitches.”
He slammed the door behind him, and I rushed to it, locking both the top and bottom locks before sliding down to the floor. Mama was still crying, her hands shaking as she held her face, and all I could do was help her up and lead her to the bedroom.
“Come on, Ma. Just lay down. Please.”
“He always do this shit,” she kept saying, over and over. “He always… he always come back…”
“I know. I know, Mama. Just rest.”
It took everything in me to keep my voice calm as I helped her into bed and pulled the covers up.
She kept mumbling to herself, her fingers twitching against the sheets.
I stood there for a minute, just staring, trying to catch my breath.
I wanted to scream, and even break something, but all I could do was wipe my face and walk back down the hallway to Zurie’s room.
She was sitting up in bed, hugging her knees to her chest.
I climbed in next to her and pulled her close.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, brushing her cheek with my thumb. “Everything’s okay now. I promise.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice so small it almost broke me.
No, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. I didn’t know if Daddy would come back, if Mama would spiral again or if Zurie would get worse.
But I lied again…
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure.”
Then I held her tighter, because if I let go, I knew I’d fall apart too.
Moss Landing
The party at Juelz’s apartment was lit as hell, and honestly, I needed it.
The music was a vibe, the lights were low, and the living room was packed with beautiful people laughing and dancing like life wasn’t kicking they ass.
Juelz always knew how to throw a solid kickback—liquor on deck, LED lights changing color, and a Bluetooth speaker bumping old-school R&B remixes.
He had just finished redecorating too, so everything looked fresh with plush gray couches, velvet throw pillows, and even a fake gold hookah that nobody knew how to use but kept posing with anyway.
Kashmere and I were on the balcony, cups in our hand, catching a breeze and a break from the heat inside. I was leaned up against the railing, staring out at the swampy trees that surrounded the edge of Moss Landing, while Kash lit a blunt and passed it to me.
“You good?” she asked, her voice soft but serious.
I didn’t answer at first. I just stared down at the parking lot and exhaled slow. “I don’t know what the fuck I am.”
She didn’t say anything for a second, but just nodded and let me talk when I was ready.
“It was bad last night,” I finally said, keeping my eyes forward. “Like… worse than usual. He hit her again, and Mama just lost it. She was screaming like a dam child. And then I—” My voice cracked, but I caught it before it broke. “I pulled a knife on him.”
Kashmere turned her head quick, her eyes wide. “Girl, what?!”
“I told him to leave or I would use it,” I said, my voice flat. “He was looking at me like he didn’t even recognize me, as if I was some stranger threatening his life instead of his daughter begging him to stop.”
Kash put her hand over mine. “Pluto…”
“I had to protect them. Zurie was in the back, scared out her mind, and mama was bleeding from her mouth. What else was I supposed to do?”
“You did what you had to do,” she said. “You always do.”
I didn’t say anything. I just took another pull from the blunt then took a sip of my drink, and stared out at the world like maybe it could offer me an answer, but there wasn’t one. It was just the sound of laughter behind us and somebody yelling, “Who rolled this weak-ass blunt?” from the kitchen.
“You don’t have to live like this,” Kashmere said after a minute. “You know that, right?”
“I can’t leave Zurie.”
“I’m not saying leave her. I’m saying do something to change y’all situation.”
I looked at her, already knowing where she was about to go with it.