Looking around, I made sure there was no one out as I picked the lock to the door. Once it opened, I pulled my gun from my waistband and crept inside. The front of the apartment was dark, but I could see old takeout boxes, weed and cigarette trays, and dirty clothes strewn throughout the living room.
This dirty motherfucker.
Continuing my stride, I crept down the hall and saw the bedroom door cracked open, and I could hear a woman moaning. I knew it was the TV because his crippled ass wasn’t getting no pussy for real.
Peeking inside, I saw Damien Senior beating his shit to what I confirmed was porn on the TV screen. I stood back and waited for him to finish. This was going to be his last nut, so I wanted him to enjoy it.
After five more minutes of waiting, I heard the porn stop, so I pushed the door open. He jumped, and after realizing I was an intruder, he tossed his hands in the air.
“Wait! I ain’t got shit for you to take, homie! My first of the month check comes tomorrow!”
“I don’t need your bitch-ass money,” I said, lifting the ski mask. His eyes ballooned when he saw that it was me who had come to deliver his fate.
“Truce… Man, what the fuck you want from me, man!”
“Your life. You’re the reason my brother is flying off the fucking handle. I should have done your bitch ass in a long time ago, but I’m a generous man. I let you keep your life because it was worthless.
“I gave you grace when you didn’t appreciate it. Filling my brother’s head with lies and trying to turn him against me. You’s a coward motherfucka and don’t deserve to live anymore.”
“Aye, listen… whatever Damien told you is a lie. I-I ain’t talked to that nigga since you left.”
“Stop fucking lying, bitch.” I sent a fist flying into his midsection.
My shit was in a little pain, but I didn’t care. I tucked my gun back inside my waistband and yanked his ass from the bed.
“Tru—”
His words were cut short as I wrapped my arm around his neck and squeezed with all my might. His legs began kickingwildly while he tried to pry my arm from around his neck, but to no avail.
“This is for all the years you beat on Delilah. All the times you belittled her and my brother. For all the shit you put in his head about me and tried to make him hate me.” I squeezed a little tighter. “For all the bruises, broken bones, busted lips, and noses. And for successfully making my brother hate me enough to try to kill me.
“For giving him your fucking disease and never helping him deal with it. Die slow, bitch,” I whispered harshly in his ear.
His legs began to slow, and his grip on my arm loosened. Ten seconds later, his body stilled, and his limbs faltered. I let him go and looked down at his lifeless body.
“Rest in hell, motherfucka.”
That Same Night
I watched as Truce got inside his Porsche truck and pulled out of his driveway. I started up the Malibu and followed him, being sure to keep my distance so he wouldn’t know he was being followed. It didn’t take long for me to see exactly where the fuck he was going. When he got on I-75 going North, I knew exactly where he was going. Whitney, Kelly, Tasia, and Brittany accompanied me as we passed the blunt back and forth. I had no doubt he had Jela and Scottlyn, and I knew he was going to lead me right to them.
I wanted my hittas to do more damage to Truce than what they did, but that bitch-ass cop intervened. Even though Trucewas fucking my niggas up, I knew eventually they’d figure out a tactic to get his big ass to the ground and stomp him to his death.
The motherfucker was like Jeepers Creepers. It was like he could never die and had the strength of Achilles. I just needed to find his weak spot to take him down, and I knew that weak spot too.
Jela Janiya Jackson.
I was going to break her ass down so bad, she was going to need a wheelchair for the rest of her fucking life.
“How bad do you want us to do her, Daddy?” Kelly asked.
“Break her fucking legs so that bitch can never run or dance again.”
“Who’s to say he has her?” Brittany asked.
“Because I know my fuckin’ brother. Always trying to save a motherfucka. He’s about to be in for a rude awakening.”
I drove behind Truce at a distance for hours until he pulled onto a residential street out in Grosse Pointe Woods, Michigan. When I used to visit him, he always had me meet him at a condo out in Southfield. I used to look at him crazy because the nigga built houses for a living, but stayed in a basic-ass condominium. I never questioned him about it because I didn’t give a fuck, but the house he just pulled into was his style. Not too big, surrounded by woods, and just big enough for him and his big-ass ego to live comfortably.
