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worried … she felt so many things. She hated her life. Why had she been given such a miserable existence? She would never understand. Where was her white picket fence? Her loving mom? Her hardworking dad? Bleu had been dealt a bad hand … a hand that made it impossible for her to win. She heard the sound of Teena Marie as her mother turned up the speakers full blast. There would be no hugs of reassurance for Bleu, no time spent together to process this loss. Bleu had never felt so alone. Her father had just died, but Bleu knew that it wouldn’t be long before the next man came to take his place. She wouldn’t be surprised if her mother called one of the dope boys over so that she could smoke her own pain away. Bleu walked over to her window and lifted it and snuck out onto the fire escape. She climbed up the two stories and tapped on Noah’s window, catching his attention. He rushed over to let her in.
    â€œWhat’s up, B? You okay?” he asked, concerned as he helped her inside.
    Ms. Monica knocked on the door, and Noah placed his finger over his lips, signaling Bleu to be quiet. He hurriedly pushed her toward the closet, hiding her before he ran to the door. He opened it. “What’s up, Ma?”
    â€œBoy, you ain’t slick. Don’t ‘what’s up, Ma’?’ me,” Ms. Monica said. “Bleu, you can come on out, baby. You ain’t got to hide. You’re welcome here anytime.” Bleu climbed out of the closet, embarrassed, as she kept her head lowered.
    Ms. Monica walked over to her once she saw that Bleu was still dressed in the bloody clothes. Her heart ached for Bleu. She bent down and said, “I’m sorry about your daddy, baby. He made some bad choices … so did your mama, but you don’t have to. You can be better than them. Just because they were caught up and addicted doesn’t mean you have to grow up and be that way too. Okay?”
    Bleu nodded.
    â€œNow go on in the bathroom and take a hot bath. I’ll have some clothes for you when you get out, and there’s dinner on the stove. Y’all come down and fix some plates when you’re ready and keep this door open,” Ms. Monica preached.
    Bleu was grateful for Noah and Ms. Monica. They were the closest thing to normal in her life … the only people who truly cared.

 
    2
    â€œHey, hey, B, wake up for me,” Noah said when he saw the signs of movement as she stirred in her sleep. She came out of her restless sleep, grateful that reality had interrupted the memories of her past. Noah sat anxiously at her side. She could tell he was forcing the smile that was on his face in an attempt to hide his concern. The smile on his face didn’t match the look of despair in his eyes. She could see the worry written all over him. Bleu lazily fluttered her eyes open and gave Noah a weak smile. He was a sight for sore eyes, but she could see the sadness in him as he stared at her over the long lashes that guarded his light brown eyes. His dark skin was reminiscent of night and wrapped over his ballplayer’s frame like Saran Wrap. He was usually so strong … so confident, and on her weakest days he always held her down. One smile from him was like charging a battery in her back because she knew that he smiled for no one else. She owned it. Bleu was the only person he gifted it to, but as he sat before her, rubbing his hands over his fresh fade, she saw nothing but worry and grief. It shrank him so much that it looked as though his broad shoulders were weighed down by emotion alone. He rushed to her bedside and she placed a weak hand on his cheek as he gripped her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.
    â€œYou’re all right, B. You’re going to be good. I promise you.”
    She cleared her throat, preparing herself to respond. She winced in pain as she brought her hand up to her bandaged throat.
    â€œYou had a breathing and feeding