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 naïvely 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.