UNRAVELED

 A lot of abuse occurred when her mother went off to work. Some of the abuse took place whenever - whenever she had to walk pass her father, in order to get to another room or out of the door, or if he heard her voice.

 "Why you putting water in the pitcher to make cool aid?" he'd angrily ask. "That's how I make it." "You don't make cool aid like that - you put the powder and sugar in first. Cynthia would continue making the drink, then, bam! she was either slapped or punched in the face. Didn't I tell you - you don't make it like that!" It was always like that when her father was around which was always. So she barely ate, because she didn't want to be hit. She didn't understand why she was being beat up all of the time - over making food when it was solely for her and what she bought. She didn't realize that it didn't matter one way or another who it was for, it was his way or no way.

 Whenever she would walk pass him or was near him he'd say hurtful things, that, Cynthia insisted to herself it would not get to her or bring her down.

" I don't know why you got some damn Barbizon College sending you pamphlets, you not gonna be no model, you too black - black ass bitch." She didnt' let it be the reason why, when she went to auditions by herself that she never got chosen. Yet, she still carried herself like a model.

 She carried herself like a lady always. She made sure there was not a strand of hair out of place, not a wrinkle on her clothes, not a smudge on her skin. She believed that a woman was not to show any signs of perspiration, therefore, whenever she got a chance to freshen herself up, she did - which opened the door for an added problem, from another source.

 "You doing too much for yourself. You trying to look beautiful and you not. Don't nobody care how you look, all you're gonna be good for is a lay. The only thing you gone be in your life is a whore. You'll never have a man, unless you lying on yo back." he said to his youngest daughter on a regular basis.

  "Don't you come back in this house, talking about washing up!" her mother scowled with a look of rage - which scared Cynthia a sweat all by itself. She didn't understand what was going on. Her father was the one to magically appear to be in raged - not her mother, whom was always pleasant. Gina Spencer looked at her daughter with disgust - coming in here from being gone all day, thinking you're gonna wash up in my house." Cynthia put her things back into her room, in its' appropriate place, then headed back towards the bathroom. Her mother grabbed her by her arm with force; where you think you're going? I told you, you weren't washing up in my house at this time of night." "Mom, I'm just going to use the bathroom" Cynthia said with a shivered voice, although crying inside, sadden that her mother was beginning to act like her father and sporadically would throughout the rest of her lfe, even after her fathers' death.