Free The Fight Within by Tiana Laveen

enormous, dark, nasty monster that had been vomited out the mouth of the angry full moon. Then, the big, burly celestial bitch that ruled the evening sky cast it at her feet, making her ill from the sight of it all.
    It was finally finished.
    All of ‘Action Jackson’s’ shit sat on the damn curb, along with the memories of ‘what once was’. She’d purged the house, every nook and cranny, so very sick and tired of finding his wares sprawled here and there, taking her out of her comfort zone. Just when she’d thought she’d gotten rid of the whole mess, all reminders of his existence within her world, she’d find an old pair of his socks here and there, a half empty bottle of expensive cologne under a bathroom cabinet, and a discarded set of golf clubs pushed in the corner of a long forgotten closet. She’d even discovered a collection of faded T-shirts with childish slogans from his Morehouse college years written across them. So, month after month, she’d toss these findings, but this time, she went through the house from top to bottom, sick of dragging this thing out.
    It was the perfect evening for a bonfire, but she had no doubts her neighbors wouldn’t appreciate such a display, despite her twitching fingers to hold a match and red canister, recently empty from the act of freshly poured gasoline. No, such spectacles would have to stay on the silver screen. This was real life, with real costs, so she pushed the fantasies behind her, just like the trash before her.
    “Mom,” Asia called out, standing at the front door in her pale pink pajama shorts with matching spaghetti strapped top. “What are you doing?”
    “Just setting the trash out, honey. I’ll be in in a second.” She tossed her daughter a quick grin and placed her hand on her hip.
    “Okay.” Yawning, the girl closed the door and disappeared from sight.
    Brian was spending the night over at his best friend’s house and Asia had a dance audition in the morning. The fourteen-year-old was nothing but a bundle of nerves, and oh how she remembered those days. She’d fixed her daughter some tea an hour earlier, made the girl drink it, and told her to relax and try to get some shuteye. She knew Asia would do fantastic. The girl was a natural. Ballet was in her blood after all; Treasure had been a dancer in high school, too. Turning her back, she walked away from the monstrosity piled high, a mass seemingly trying to reach the clouds, it stood so tall. A feeling of great satisfaction steeped itself within her soul, like an assortment of fragrant, rich tealeaves dipped in boiling water. As she opened the massive, white front door and disappeared inside her abode, the sense of relief washed over her like a light sprinkling of rain.
    I want no trace of you around me. Not your clothing, not your words, not your lies and broken promises, either. You said vows, but only one of us meant it. Get out of my house. Get out of my life. Get out of my mind and stay out of my heart. I don’t want you in here, ever again…
    *
    “Those sons of bitches!” Treasure yelled as Asia disappeared on the bus, protected from her curses as the noisy, large yellow vehicle journeyed down the street farting out copious, gray exhaust fumes for her to choke to death on. She’d played it cool while the girl stood there, but oh, she’d seen it. Treasure glared at the unpicked trash before snatching off an odd bright orange note stuck on the side of the trashcan, waving ever so slightly in the stinky breeze. Someone had handwritten some crap about weight and protocol and some other bullshit. She burst into her house, enraged that Jackson still ‘lived’ there, for he was the cause of all of this aftermath. He was out on the curb, but he was still there , haunting and taunting her, mocking, laughing in her damn face under the glare of the morning sunlight. The trash had grown large yellowed eyes and leered at her before she’d left it, as if to say, I’m still here, bitch!