Page 51 of Certified Pressure 2
They both turned to me like I had no right to speak, but I didn’t care. My voice was sharp and louder than theirs, cutting through all that bullshit.
“You don’t even realize your own daughter has surgery in the morning,” I said, glaring at both of them. “You standing here arguing like you ain’t got nothing better to do. Y’all sick. It’s disgusting. She deserves better than this, and y’all don’t even deserve to be her parents.”
My father’s eyes narrowed. His face twisted with drunken anger. “Who the fuck you talking to like that? You don’t tell me to shut the fuck up in my house.”
“I just did!” I shot back. “And I’ll say it again because I’m tired of you. I’m tired of both of y’all! Zurie needs love, she needs peace, and all you ever give her is bullshit!”
That’s when my dad stepped forward, and his words came at me like knives.
“You lil’ bitch. You think you grown? You think you better than me?”
“Better than you?” I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “That bar stool got more value than you ever gave us. You ain’t no father. You ain’t nothing but a drunk with a big ass fuckin’ mouth.”
The words had barely left my mouth before he lunged at me. His hand came across my face so hard the sound cracked in the room. For a split second, I couldn’t breathe, my cheek stung like fire, and I couldn’t believe my own father just slapped me like I was some stranger on the street.
My adrenaline shot through me before the pain even sank in. “You hit me? You really hit me?” I screamed, and before I knew it, I was swinging back, shoving at his chest, cursing him with every word I had.
“You sorry-ass drunk muthafucka! You ain’t shit!”
His hands grabbed at me, rough and heavy. We crashed into the couch, and I felt myself being yanked and dragged like he was trying to put me in my place. My mother’s voice rang out, high-pitched, “Stop! Both of y’all stop!” but she didn’t move to pull him off me. She just yelled like that was enough.
“Get the fuck off me!” I yelled, trying to push him away, but his grip only tightened. He was calling me every kind of bitch, his spit flying in my face, his weight pressing me into the floor.
Then I heard Zurie scream. “Daddy, stop! Leave my sister alone!”
Her cry was sharp, panicked and breaking through everything. I twisted, trying to look at her, but my father’s hands were locking me down. That was the moment I felt hopeless, like no matter how hard I fought, he was going to overpower me.
And then the front door burst open. The wood cracked against the wall, the sound booming louder than any shout. Mymother screamed, “Who the fuck are you and why are you in my house?”
Before I could even process, a deep voice roared through the living room.
“Nigga, get up!”
Suddenly, my father’s weight lifted off me, like a mountain thrown off my chest. I gasped for air, looking up, and then I saw Pressure. His face was pure rage, his arm locked tight around my father’s throat as he yanked him off me like he weighed nothing.
I scrambled up, grabbing Zurie into my arms. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe. Her little body shook against me as I rushed her back in the room, and whispered, “It’s okay. I got you. Don’t come out this room, okay? Please, don’t come out.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” she sobbed, clutching me tighter.
“I’ll be right back,” I promised, setting her gently on the bed before pulling the door closed behind me. My legs felt weak, my hair was sticking to my face, but I pushed back into the living room.
Pressure had my father pinned to the wall by his throat. The force of it cracked the sheetrock, a deep line splitting up toward the ceiling. My father’s feet barely touched the floor as he struggled, gasping, while Pressure’s eyes burned into him.
“You put your hands on her?” Pressure growled, his voice low and terrifying. “You think that shit fly?.”
My mother was trembling, backing toward the phone. Her hand shook as she grabbed it, screaming, “I’m calling 9-1-1! You can’t just break in my house and assault my husband!”
“No!” I shouted, running toward her. “Don’t do it! I’m leaving with Zurie. I’m not staying here and neither is she.”
“Pluto, you not taking my child no damn where!” she screamed back, her eyes wide with fury.
“She’s having surgery in the morning!” I yelled. “She needs peace and you can’t even give her one night without fighting! Ain’t no way in hell I’m leaving her here!”
Behind me, there was a thud, and when I looked, my father was crumpled on the floor, knocked out cold. Pressure’s chest was rising and falling, his fists still tight, his whole body looking like a weapon ready to destroy anyone who touched me again.
I stepped over my father’s body, tears blurring my vision, and rushed to the room to grab Zurie and our bags. She clung to me as I lifted her, her arms wrapped around my neck, while the strap of her bag cut into my shoulder.
My mother was right behind me, cursing, yelling, clawing at me. “You not taking her! She my fuckin’ baby!”
