It was the night of the blue moon. Wouldn’t be another for years. Cindy decided to celebrate. She put on her shortest denim shorts. The low-cut ones. The ones her momma hated. “Girl! You ain’t that kinda girl!” Momma said those words a lot. She didn’t wear a thing beneath them. She pulled out a matching top. Red and white. That ended just below her boobs. She didn’t wear a thing beneath that either. “Girl! You ain’t that kinda girl!” She laughed as she remembered her momma’s words.
She sat down on the edge of her bed. Pulled out her makeup kit. She’d bought makeup just for this night. Just for the blue moon. Pale blue eyeshadow. Perfect. Fire engine red lipstick. Perfect. The best part? The pale blue, glow in the dark nail polish. Next came the pale blue spiked heels. When she was all done, Cindy looked in the mirror. “Hell, yes!” she thought. “Girl, you do look hot!”
She picked up her blue bag. The one with the blue moon on the side. And the fairy silhouette on top of that. She opened it, and pulled out the first piece of the bright blue bubblegum. She popped that in her mouth, and started working it. Then she looked at the chest of drawers along the wall. At the picture of her momma. Momma’d been dead for two years. And still, her words kept haunting Cindy’s life. “Girl! You ain’t that kinda girl! I didn’t raise no whore!”
Then the arguments would start. The fights. The ones where daddy always wound up leaving inch wide welts on her back, her butt, and legs. Welts caused by his leather belt.
“I’m glad you’re gone, bitch,” Cindy said. Momma’d had a stroke when no one was at home. That night, daddy’d got home from work to find her cold, dead body on the kitchen floor. One day later, he’d thrown Cindy out. Without a single word.
Cindy looked at her Momma’s picture once again. “What do you think of me tonight, Momma? What do you think of me tonight?” She laughed, then blew a bright blue bubble with the gum. When it popped, she smiled at the picture. “Daddy may have been submissive to your evil control. Maybe it was your tits and ass that owned his soul.” The hatred flashed in her eyes. Years of anger she could not control. Anger running wild. Knowing what she’d do beneath the blue moon that night. “But I never did! I never will!”
She walked to the door of her one room flat, and before she left, she turned once more to the picture of her cold, dead, momma. “Bitch.”
You should have heard the door to her flat as it slammed.