“Nothing, Miamor. Get out… go and get ready for school,” she said. She barely got the words out before she was throwing up again.
“I’m going to get Mama,” I said. I had never been one of those tattle-telling little kids, but I didn’t know what else to do. I could tell from the way Anisa was sprawled all over the toilet that she needed more help than I could offer.
“No!” she yelled, grabbing my arm to stop me from leaving the bathroom. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and began to cry.
“Anisa, what’s wrong?” I asked.
Anisa couldn’t stop crying. The deep sob that escaped her lips was a cry that was too mature for such a young girl. The cry signified what she had endured and the things her young eyes had seen before their time. She lifted up her shirt, and I noticed a slight bulge in her belly. It wasn’t big at all, but my sister was naturally skinny. Her stomach had always been pancake flat, so the bump seemed out of place on her. I wondered how I could’ve missed it. I had seen Anisa naked plenty of times, and I had even noticed that she had gained a little bit of weight, but the thought of pregnancy never ever crossed my young mind. I was naive and green to the game. For months, Perry had been raping my sister, and neither of us ever thought of the possibility of a baby.
“I’m pregnant, Mia!” she cried. “I don’t know what to do! I tried to tell him no. He wouldn’t stop.” “We have to tell,” I said.
“Miamor, no! I don’t want anybody to know!” Anisa whispered as she grasped my arm, her teary eyes desperately searching mine as if I could solve this problem. “I have to get rid of it. You have to promise me you won’t say a word.”
I nodded my head, but tears filled my eyes as I watched Anisa lower her shirt. She was pregnant at fourteen by our mother’s husband.
I wanted to open the door and tell my mother everything that we had been through, but Anisa was still gripping my hand. “Don’t say anything, okay?”
As badly as I wanted to tell, I couldn’t. I trusted my sister and was loyal to her. If she wanted me to keep this secret, then I would. I wiped my eyes, flushed the toilet, and sprayed air freshener in the air before opening the door.
We dressed in silence and headed off to school, our souls heavy and our minds on problems that we were both too young to truly comprehend.
Brooklyn born and raised, we kept to ourselves. It was only Anisa and I. We weren’t cliqued up like some of the other bitches in our borough. We had already been jumped on twice behind some beef that Anisa had caught with some girls from her high school, so I learned quickly to stay bladed up. I had seen Anisa put a razor blade in her mouth and carry it around all day without taking it out. I had cut my shit up a couple times trying to be like her, and when they caught us both slipping, she finally taught me how to tuck a blade away in my mouth just in case I ever needed it.
We knew the spots that these girls hung around, and we usually avoided those paths at all costs just to stay out of unnecessary conflict. So when Anisa hit a left and headed up toward their block, I stopped mid-step, not knowing why she would walk right into an ass whooping.
“Nisa, what are you doing? You know if we go that way we’re going to have to fight. You’re pregnant, Nis. We can’t fight them girls off right now,” I said.
“I know. I don’t want to win the fight, I just want to fight,” Anisa said with a determined look in her eyes.
I didn’t understand at that moment what she was getting at, but I soon found out. “What?” I asked in confusion, looking at her like she was half stupid.
“Look, I’ve got to get this baby out of me, Miamor, and I can’t tell Mama. I’m too young to go to a doctor and get an abortion by myself. I know this girl who was pregnant, but she got her ass beat and lost her baby. I got to do this, Miamor. This is the only way. You go the safe way. Get on the bus and go to school. I’ll see you when you get home,” she said. She hugged me and pushed me in the other direction.
Reluctantly, I walked away, confused. My heart kept telling me to go back, but I always listened to Anisa no matter what. I had to roll with her plan. We were both so naive to think that this homemade method of abortion was the way to go. We had no idea how dangerous it was or the damage that Anisa was doing to her body.
I headed to school, but the thought of my sister fighting alone ate me up inside. After walking four blocks toward the bus stop, I turned around and ran full speed back toward Anisa. It was the first time I had ever disobeyed her. I knew she would be mad, but I couldn’t stand the thought of her fighting without me by her side. That’s how we were. Where one went, the other one followed, and no matter what she said, I couldn’t let her go through this alone. I ran as fast as I could, nearly out of breath when I reached the crowd of girls. I saw the group of girls jumping on Anisa, and surprisingly, she wasn’t even trying to fight back. They were stomping her out under the overpass of the train, and my heart ached as I saw them kicking her repeatedly in her stomach and back.
I pulled my blade without thinking twice. They were so focused on Anisa, that they didn’t even see me coming. “Bitch!” I brought my blade up and sliced one of the girls across her face, then started throwing mad punches to anybody within arm’s reach. Those bitches were twice my size. My little fists didn’t do much damage, but with my sneak surprise I had the advantage. As soon as they realized I was there, it was a wrap. It was one of the worst ass whoppings I’d ever taken, but it didn’t matter. I was there with Anisa. We took that ass whooping together.
The sound of police sirens blaring caused the group of girls to scatter, leaving Anisa lying on the ground and me kneeling beside her with a bloody lip.
“I told you to go the other way,” Anisa groaned as I helped her up. She was lumped up and bruised.
The police officer approached us and hopped out of his car. He escorted us home, where our mother threw a fit and sent us to our room. We both sat impatiently looking at each other, waiting naively for something to happen.
Hours passed before Anisa doubled over in pain. “I think it’s happening, Mia!” she whispered, her face contorted in pain.
“What? What do I do?” I asked.
“Aghh! Miamor, I think something’s wrong!” Anisa agonized as she held her lower stomach and crouched down at the side of the bed. A small spot of blood showed through her jeans, but slowly grew to a large stain in between her legs.
“Anisa, what do I do?” I asked. I was panicked. It was the most blood I’d ever seen. It was like her period, but ten times worse, and she was sweating profusely. Her hands were shaking in trepidation.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said as she took her jeans off and put them in a plastic bag.
I helped her across the hall and locked the door. As soon as she sat down she opened her mouth in pain, but no sound came out. She stood, and blood was dripping between her legs, her thighs stained in crimson. The toilet was filled with it, and it looked like blood clots had fallen out of Anisa.
“What do I do? What do I do?” I asked, my voice cracking from concern and my eyes filling with tears. I knew I was in over my head and I wanted to go run for our mother, but I had promised, and even at such a young age, my word was all I had. I never broke it for anybody.
“I don’t know!” she said as she was wracked with more pain. Anisa sat on the toilet as her premature body violently miscarried her baby.
I held her hand tightly as if she was bringing life into the world instead of flushing one down the toilet. I couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t my decision to make and it was already done, so all I could do was be there for my sister. She didn’t ask to be in that situation. Perry had put her in it before her time, so I didn’t judge her for wanting to get rid of it secretly.
Anisa was weak and could barely stand, so I helped her to our room and cleaned up the mess. I gave her two of our mother’s pain prescriptions and washed her up before she fell asleep. This was the first time that I was grateful for my mother’s ignorance. I didn’t want her to come in and find out what we had done.
Just as I went to throw away the bloody towel, my mother was coming up the steps. “Where did all that blood come from?” she asked.
“I… um… I… it was from the fight. I got cut and I had to clean it,” I lied.
“Oh, well, that serves you right for fighting in the first place,” she said. “I was coming to tell you and your
