In a completely dark room, a melancholy voice sings: "Sometimes, I feel like a motherless child. Sometimes, I feel like a motherless child. Sometimes, I feel like a motherless child. A long way from home."Through a dim of light, a young black woman is sitting in a chair that faces a door. It is the only piece of furniture in the room. She looks from the door to a clock that is ticking on the wall. As the voice sings, the ticking grows louder.Suddenly the sounds of footsteps can be heard. The door opens, creaking on its base expanding the narrow of light. A man, whose face we don't see, enters, and stands in front of the young woman. Neither speaks.The young woman stands. The singing becomes more intense as she kneels in front of him. The singing stops abruptly and gives way to the sound of a zipper crackling in the dark. The man starts to moan. The clock continues to tick. The sound of the pouring rain beats against a metal roof outside as the slit of light widens. The man climaxes. For the first time, we see the face of the young woman as she looks up at the man.Five years earlierThe décor of the room is that of a pink frilly lace with a Snoopy theme. A young girl is staring at herself in the mirror. She opens a drawer and takes out a pair of shorts and tee shirt. She takes off her school uniform. On top of the dresser sits a tall crystal vase with a large supply of blue pixie straws. She reaches for one, opens it and pours the blue crystals into her mouth. She stands in front of the mirror examining her body from different angles. When she turns to the side, we see that the fingers on her left hand are severely bent and that she is pregnant.Clad in shorts and tee shirt, she goes downstairs into the living room. She takes a key hanging from a chain around her neck and walks over to a gun display cabinet near the fireplace. She unlocks the cabinet and stands staring at the guns for a few minutes. She runs her hands across various types of weapons, including a double barrel shotgun, before settling on a small caliber handgun. She walks over to a small closet in the center of the room and opens it. She moves a few things around on the top shelf, locates the box of bullets and closes the door. She goes back upstairs.In her bedroom, she places the gun under her pillow, turns on the television to cartoons and lays down. After a few minutes, she reaches in her nightstand and pulls out a small leather bound journal. She writes: "I was five the first time he entered me."The young girl is sitting on the edge of her bed holding the gun in her left hand. Her lips are stained blue from the candy. Her journal is laying on top of her pillow. She raises the gun to her head and presses the barrel against her temple. Her deformed hand trembles as she tries to steady the gun. Her other hand cradles her swollen stomach. The volume of the television is loud and cartoons are blaring in the background. She pulls the trigger. The gun goes off. Black.