I hold onto that notion desperately, as I lift my hand.
His eyes balloon, and his bloodied hand wrenches away from his shoulder to plead with me. But he doesn’t get a word out.
Not before I sink one between his eyes.
I choke down the bile that’s threatening to rise as I pull out my phone and text the code to Bleach.
Not even a minute after I press send, there’s a knock on the door.
She’s there, with a pair of slides in my size, looking at me with so much pity, I almost can’t take it.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Shad,” she whispers. She hauls her backpack inside as her team follows her in.
I step out of my shoes, placing the slides on the other side of the threshold to step in, and leave her to do her shit.
It’s like I blink and I’m back home. My line is being blown down, constant vibrations in my pocket. Rico never came back to the city. Wyn’s in the wind. Ty’s on my shit separately, saying they found Sahara dead in her apartment, and Van’s going ape shit. I tell the group chat my shit’s handled, and power my phonedown. I need a shower, and to lay eyes on my girls. Everything else can wait until tomorrow.
I’m on autopilot, moving through the house to the backyard. I barely feel myself trip over a rogue rock, and each step on the stairs sounds like the silenced gunshot to Sin’s forehead.
The lights stay off as I walk through my living room, but I’m guided by the tv I must have left on before I jetted out of here only hours ago. It doesn't sound like me, but shit, who knows.
My closet’s outside of my bedroom, so I grab some basketball shorts, boxers, and a wife beater, before heading through my room to the bathroom.
A sigh stops me in my tracks.
There, on my bed, are my girls. Macy’s cuddling a pillow, with her hand firmly gripping the bed bassinet. Sadé is sprawled on her back, asleep as well, letting the tv watch the both of them.
Both alive. Both in my room. Macy cuddling my preferred pillow. Sadé clutching one of my shirts.
It takes most of my energy to get me to walk away from them, but I can’t touch them with death lingering on me still.
My shower is quick, but thorough. I don’t bother wrapping my braids after brushing my teeth. Shit, maybe I’ll pull a Nut and cut my hair.
I turn off the bathroom light so I don’t disturb them. I gently pull my pillow out of her grip and climb onto the bed, wrapping myself around her.
She clings to me as she wakes up and smothers me with her titties, but I don’t mind. I need this hug. I need her. And I need her to know it.
“You’re here,” she whispers, pulling away so she can make sure it’s me. Like her body doesn’t already know.
I nod, feeling the familiar pressure build behind my eyes, but I have no more energy to hold it in. To hold anything in.
She notices, because she crushes me back to her chest. “I got you, Rahshad,” she murmurs.
And I let myself go.
Macy smells so sweet, like her cherry blossom body wash. It’s all I can smell as I let it all go. Every memory I have of those who aren’t here with me. They all stack on top of one another, threatening to take me under with them. Fishing with Granddad. Church with Nana. Movies with my OG. Working out with Bishop. Singing to Raya. Performing with Sean.
Shooting the breeze with Sin.
Nigga hated me even in his last breath, and I still can’t bring myself to reciprocate it. Even after everything he’s done. All that he’s taken. I’d choose Set over him in any lifetime, of course. But through it all, I loved him. And in this life, with so many of my loved ones being snatched from me, having to take the life of one of the few I had left will probably be the thing to taint me.
“It’s not fair,” I stammer. Macy hugs me tighter, pressing kisses to the top of my head.
“I know baby. I know.”
Age 17
We run until we can’t anymore.
