Neveah sat alone in the kitchen. Momma had gone to her room, leaving everything behind—the bills, her phone, her daughter…

Now Momma was taking a nap using the sleeping aid of her choice. Because of course she was.

For the past hour, Neveah sat at the kitchen table flipping through her phone, not really looking at anything. Her thoughts played the morning’s events again and again.

The doctors called it “rumination”. Over and over, Neveah rehearsed and re-chewed the day like a cow and its cud—the partially digested food that a cow vomits up so it can chew and digest it again. In this way Neveah brought up Devon’s fight with Momma… the incident with the hat… Devon storming out… her mother snapping at her… her prayer for Devon to come home…

Neveah flicked through her phone like a Buddhist priest with his prayer beads, flicking and flicking in a kind of dark meditation. Unlike the priest, Neveah’s meditations led not to the peace of emptiness, but the chaotic noise of thoughts that would not go away, buzzing like a screaming horde of flies and radio static through which the barest glimmers of memories could break through, warped, twisted and horrible.

Over and over, she brought up the memory. Over and over she chewed on it, digesting it, bringing it up again, beating it and molding it until it was acceptable enough to swallow.

She had only been trying to help, she thought. Her brother had gone and spent so much money, selfishly, on himself when he knew the family was struggling. He knew better than to buy nonsense fantasy crap when Momma worked as hard as she did to put food on their table. It was her duty to the family that Neveah did what she did—to expose her selfish, self-serving brother for Momma’s sake.

There was no reason for Momma to be sad. The problem had taken care of itself. No longer would they be plagued by Devon’s stupid selfishness. Momma had suffered so much, needlessly and without complaint, and it was her duty as her daughter to protect Momma from shameless and self-serving men—even if it was her own brother.

Yes. That would be the truth.

Neveah chewed on the inside of her cheek until it started to taste like iron.

Then Neveah heard Momma’s phone buzz. It snapped her out of her thoughts. Maybe it was another bill collector. Sometimes Momma would ask Neveah to pretend to be a secretary and turn the bill collectors away. Neveah got a small thrill out of this—like playing hide and seek with voices. So she felt nothing picking up Momma’s phone and looking at the message inside.

Her eyes widened. It wasa text from Devon:

DEVVIE DEVIL-FOOD: hey Momma just wanted to let you know i’m safe and on the bus to NHCC

DEVVIE DEVIL-FOOD: im sorry for fighting w u today…can we talk later?

DEVVIE DEVIL-FOOD: love you Momma

Neveah looked at the screen for some time. Her hands trembled, and she chewed on her cheeks again.

Of course Devon would do this. Manipulative little sneak. He was just saying words to worm his way back into Momma’s good graces. But isn’t this what she wanted? Without Devon, there wouldn’t be anyone else to take the heat when Momma got stressed or angry…

If he comes back, things can go back to normal.

NO. WE CANNOT LOSE.

But what are we losing? Let’s be real—even if Devon comes back, we’ll still be Momma’s favorite. You know we pushed her too far—let’s take the L and go back to the way things were.

WE. CANNOT. LOSE.

Thoughts raced around Neveah’s head so fast that she started to feel dizzy. Her entire body buzzed with stress. She wanted to throw up—and she did, in the bathroom quietly where nobody could hear.

“I should have kept it in,” she hissed, wiping the sick from her mouth. “I could have kept it in.”

When she came back, her head felt a little clearer . She washed her mouth out with water and flushed all the evidence from her face. Then, to further cover her tracks, she got out a breath mint from the cabinet where Momma kept things like sucking candy, loose change, and the spare keys. She cracked the mint with her teeth, chewing the freshness until the sick-taste went away and the evidence was gone forever.

The ritual gave Neveah time to clear her head and quiet the storm of thoughts. Slowly, a clearer line of thinking overtook her.

Didn’t she just say that Neveah did what she did for Momma’s protection?

Didn’t she just say that it was her duty as her daughter to protect her—even if that meant taking a bit more heat now and then?

Devon was being manipulative, plain and simple. Neveah had to do something. And really, Momma couldn’t ever get that angry at her—after all, Neveah was her only daughter. That had to mean something, right?

The decision was made, and the path was clear.

Neveah opened her mother’s phone and began to craft the final message:

MARYANNE: Devon, u have brought shame and disrespct to this house for the last time. U made ur choice. U are ded to this family and I am blocking u. Don’t come back.

With the message crafted, perfect and complete, she hesitated briefly. Was she really going to go through with this? Was she really going to cut off her own brother from her family for good? Even for Neveah, this was crossing a scary new boundary.

DO IT, NEVEAH. LOSING IS NOT AN OPTION.

Yes. Losing was not an option.