Girls From da Hood 7
Page 29
Baby approached J. Rock’s door and banged heavily on it. She was impatient. She wanted to see her boo, and become wrapped in his arms—yearning for his roughneck affection. She needed some kind of comfort, and wanted J. Rock to take care of business. Baby banged continuously on J. Rock’s door, attracting other neighbors to peek out their doors to see who was causing the loud commotion in the hallway.
“J. Rock, open the fuckin’ door, baby. I need to see you,” Baby hollered.
The door swung open abruptly, and J. Rock stood in the doorway shirtless with a cigarette dangling from his lips. It looked like Baby had interrupted him in action of something, but Baby didn’t care.
“What the fuck is wrong wit’ you, Baby. Huh? Fuck you bangin’ on my goddamn door like you the muthafuckin’ police?” screamed J. Rock.
“J. Rock, I need to see you, baby. I need ya help,” pleaded Baby.
“I’m fuckin’ busy right now, Baby.”
Baby pushed passed J. Rock and stormed into the apartment. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. J. Rock spun around on his heels and glared at Baby. “What the fuck, Baby! I told you I was fuckin’ busy ... Get the fuck out!”
“I want him killed, J. Rock. I want that muthafucka dead!” she shouted.
“Who? Ya soldier boy?”
“Yeah ... He killed my cousin.”
“Yeah, I heard about that ... That’s fucked up,” J. Rock replied apathetically.
“So you gonna do it?”
“What ... Fuck outta here, Baby. I ain’t touchin’ nowhere around that incident.”
“But I did you that favor. He killed Chubbs for you ... like you wanted him to.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you talkin’ about, Baby,” J. Rock replied with a deadpan stare focused on the emotional Baby.
“What? You told me, J. Rock, that once I could get him to kill Chubbs for you, we were goin’ to officially be together. I’m your ride or die bitch, J. Rock,” exclaimed Baby.
J. Rock looked at Baby like she was crazy. He didn’t want anything to do with her. His harsh demeanor toward her was evident. He used her. Baby was teary eyed, and a train wreck waiting to happen. She came within reach of J. Rock in an attempt to get a hug from him. But she suddenly stopped in her tracks. Her eyes looked beyond J. Rock and were fixated on the threatening figure behind him.
“What the fuck is this, J. Rock?” Baby shouted.
J. Rock turned to see Erica standing behind him in her panties and bra. Her arm was outstretched, gripping a 9 mm that was aimed at Baby.
“Let me shoot this fuckin’ bitch, J. Rock,” Erica said through clenched teeth.
“Erica, chill the fuck out ... not here, in this fuckin’ place. You crazy?” said J. Rock.
“What the fuck, J. Rock! What the fuck is she doin’ here?” screamed Baby.
“I hate this fuckin’ bitch. I want her dead like her bitch cousin,” spat Erica.
“Are you fuckin’ serious, J. Rock? I thought you was done wit’ that bitch!”
“Nah, I’m not. I lied to you,” confessed J. Rock.
Erica’s face had completely healed and she looked normal. The gun was shaky in her hands as she locked her hate and anger into Baby. She wanted to pull the trigger and kill off her rival so badly that her pussy was throbbing. Baby just stood there defenseless against Erica and J. Rock. She had experienced the ultimate betrayal, and the anguish that flowed through her was crippling her from head to toe. She couldn’t move. She almost wanted to accept death to substitute the pain she felt.
“Get the fuck outta here, Baby ... before I change my mind and have my bitch shoot you down,” said J. Rock harshly.
“But I thought you loved me ...”
“It was fun while it lasted, but you gotta go. You see, me and her got married yesterday, and she’s pregnant wit’ my seed. So I’ma stick wit’ my true bitch,” J. Rock informed her.
Erica smirked. She still had the gun pointed at Baby, and said, “Bitch, leave now, but it’s definite I’ma see you again on the streets ... And fuck your bitch cousin G.G... . That fuckin’ ho got what she deserved.”
It angered Baby to hear Erica disrespect her dead cousin. She snapped, and suddenly didn’t care about the gun being in Erica’s hand. She lunged for her foe, but J. Rock interfered with the attack. He snatched Baby into his arms roughly and started to drag her toward the exit.
“Get the fuck off me, J. Rock! I’ma kill that fuckin’ bitch! I’ma kill her,” Baby screamed madly, while trying to jerk and fight her way from his strong seize around her.
J. Rock dragged her to the door and pushed her out into the hallway forcefully. Baby was still screaming and yelling. She refused to go down silently. Her face was contorted with rage and tears, with her body trembling from tremendous upset.
“Bye, bitch!” Erica shouted.
The door was slammed shut, and Baby was left crying hysterically in the hallway. She dropped to the cold, dirty floor in defeat. She had lost everything—family, and her man. Her cries echoed in the hallway, disturbing the neighbors on the floor. Her reality hit her like lightening—everything about her life was a lie, and she was all alone.
Epilogue
Baby walked toward her building under the canopy of the stars. It was late, and she was still upset and crushed about G.G.’s death. Baby skipped her cousin’s funeral. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing G.G. lying in a casket. It was too painful for her to witness. She felt responsible for everything that transpired, because she was. She felt bamboozled. J. Rock’s betrayal had cut her soul deep to the core. She craved revenge and was willing to go to any lengths to kill those who did her wrong, starting with Samson.
It had been a week since she blew the whistle on their affair and let the cat out the bag about the murders. It caused much controversy and chaos in the school. The gossip spread like a virus through the high school and poured out into the streets like a popular trend. Everybody was talking about it. The scandal with Samson and Baby even made the evening news and headlined newspapers across the city. Samson was immediately terminated after the scandal surfaced of a school safety officer having a secret affair with a student, which led to drugs and murder. Reporters lay camped outside of August Martin searching for interviews and more dirt, and Samson had been arrested and charged with five counts of indictments. His bail was set at $200,000. It was a high bail. His mother had to attain a bondsman and put up her house for collateral to free her son from jail. Samson received bail because of a technicality in the case. His lawyer was a tearing apart the case against him. There was no solid evidence to link him to the two murders. Baby wasn’t a reliable witness. The defense was able to shred her credibility during Samson’s arraignment. The prosecutors were still pushing for a trial date and they fought to have his bail denied. It didn’t happen. The judge would only set his bail really high. He had lost his job and his name was becoming mud. The ex-Marine was a disgrace to his country.
No one had heard or seen him since he was released from Rikers Island. The media was itching to get a statement from him, but he continued to hide and ignore the public.
Baby’s name also was dragged through the streets of Queens. Her life was in turmoil. The detectives had picked her up numerous times for questioning, but she would become adamant and stubborn. She refused to cooperate with the authorities. They also had no case against her. The police investigation was still pending, but without a solid eyewitness, Samson was becoming a free man. It frustrated the NYPD.
Baby’s mental state was deteriorating gradually from the tragedy she suffered. She entered the lobby and waited for the elevator to open up. She was alone in the litter-filled entrance. She was tired. She was frustrated. With the death of her cousin and a broken heart, it was enough to drive anyone suicidal.
The doors opened and Baby stepped into the elevator and pushed for her floor. It ascended, and shortly after, she got off on her floor and walked toward her door. She had her keys in her hand and was ready to enter
the apartment. She felt a sudden chill coming from behind her while she was about to open the door into her apartment.
“Baby,” she heard him call out.
Baby turned to see Samson coming out of the stairwell. He was clad in a dark hoodie draped over his head, and was wearing worn denim jeans and dirty white sneakers. He looked run-down and beaten. He wasn’t the same handsome and strong Samson she remembered.
“Get the fuck away from me!” Baby screamed.
“I just wanna talk to you,” said Samson, approaching closer with his eyes in a soft plea.
Baby turned from him and rushed to open her apartment door. She thrust the door open and turned to slam the door shut, but Samson was fast. Before the door could shut, he wedged his foot into the doorway and pushed open the door, forcing his way inside.
“I just want to talk to you,” he said.
“Get outta here,” she screamed.
No one was home. Baby’s grandmother had to be admitted into the hospital a few days ago, and the home aid attendant was gone. Baby moved farther into her apartment trying to get away from Samson.
He came closer to her. “I’m sorry what happened with your cousin. It was a mistake. But I told you, I didn’t want to do it. You gotta understand ... it was an accident,” he stated.
“Get the fuck away from me!”
“Come with me, Baby. I gotta leave this city. I can’t stay here. I can’t go to prison.”
Baby thought he was sick and twisted. He had the audacity to ask her to leave with him. It made Baby want to throw up. She was outraged. “Are you fuckin’ serious!”
“I did all this for you ... so we can be together and happy. I forgive you. I do. I know you didn’t mean to do what you did. You were emotional at the time. But you and I, we can go somewhere far and start over,” Samson stated. “I know we were meant to be together. You understand me, Baby.”
Baby looked at him, and took a few steps back. He was crazy.
Unbeknownst to her, one of the reasons he was discharged medically from the military was because he was diagnosed with a bipolar disorder. He suffered from severe manic episodes that could sometimes lead to psychotic symptoms such as delusions and hallucinations. It was the main reason the NYPD rejected him. The war in Iraq had disturbed Samson in so many ways. He was able to function normally most times, but then something would trigger his episodes, and he would fly off the edge.
“C’mon, pack your bags so we can get the fuck outta here, Baby. We ain’t got much time,” he exclaimed.
“No! I’m not goin’ no fuckin’ where wit’ you. I fuckin’ hate you! I hate you! I never loved you. Every damn thing about you repulses me. I used you, nigga ... ’cause you was weak. I’m in love with another man,” she sharply proclaimed. “I will never fuckin’ love you! Ya sick and weak, nigga ... Get the fuck outta here! You a stupid fuckin’ freak!”
Samson’s face twisted into a sickening scowl. Baby’s words cut through him like a samurai sword. He did everything for her, but he was a fool. His mind thought it was love. However, he never knew love from a woman. His whole life had been to become a soldier—a killer. The Marines trained him well, and taught him how to become a fighter.
“How can you say that to me?” he screamed. “After everything I did for you. I did it for our love.”
Baby inched herself closer to the kitchen. She wanted to grab a weapon to protect her. The insanity in Samson’s eyes made her fear for her life. His disturbing behavior sent a sharp, chilling feeling down her spine. He was dangerous and desperate—a lethal combination.
“Look, just leave, Samson ... Leave!”
“No. You’re coming with me. I’m not leaving here without you. I love you.”
Samson seemed transfixed by Baby. He was serious. Baby glared at him and wanted him dead. Her stomach churned with uneasiness. Her mind filled with regrets. The situation in the quiet, quaint apartment became intense. Baby felt trapped. He was blocking the only way out. There was no other way to get around his wide, muscular frame.
“Pack your bags, honey ... we got a bus to catch,” said Samson chillingly.
“Fuck you!” Baby screamed.
She bolted for the kitchen. Samson chased her. Baby ran for the kitchen drawer and snatched it open roughly, and in one act, reached for the kitchen knife inside and spun around with her arm outstretched, gripping the knife to protect herself. Samson swooped down on top of her, but felt the blade suddenly penetrate his side. He jolted for a moment, feeling the knife sink deeper into his flesh. He trained his eyes on Baby, feeling the blood ooze from the wound. The betrayal was costly.
“You fuckin’ bitch!” he shouted.
Baby thought it would stop him, but the knife piercing his lower abdomen only made him stronger and madder. Samson hastily wrapped his powerful hands around Baby’s slim neck and began to squeeze.
Baby gasped. Her grip around the handle of the knife weakened and she fought to live. She clawed and fought to free herself from his intense hold around her neck.
Samson’s rage grew stronger. He picked her off her feet and continued to choke her. Baby’s feet dangled like she was being hanged. Her fight to live was growing weaker.
“I loved you!” Samson screamed.
“Please ... No ...” Baby uttered faintly.
Samson’s mind and anger were too far gone for him to stop. He squeezed tighter, restricting any air into her body.
Baby’s eyes began to bulge. She felt her neck breaking. He was too strong. It felt like a machine had taken hold of her.
He looked into her eyes and saw the light and the life slowly fading away.
She gasped her last breath, and a minute later, she was dead.
Samson continued to squeeze, lifting her lifeless body in the air. Finally realizing she was gone, he let his compact grip go from around her neck. She dropped heavily to the kitchen floor with a thud, looking like a contorted, lifeless doll.
Samson looked aloof for a moment. He gazed down at his hideous feat and began to cry. He then tended to the knife in his lower abdomen. He slowly pulled it out. His wounds were ugly but he didn’t care. He fell to the floor and rested against the kitchen cabinets. Baby’s body was right next to him.
“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m sorry,” he whined.
He was dying also. He reached for Baby’s lifeless hand, took it into his and slowly felt his life also fading away. Soon, he was dead too.
The End
Urban Books, LLC
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Love on Lockdown Copyright © 2012 Redd
Dangerous Copyright © 2012 Nikki-Michelle
Dirty Girls Copyright © 2012 Erick S. Gray
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ISBN: 978-1-6228-6000-5
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living, or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
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