Shyt List 2 (The Cartel Publications Presents)

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Shyt List 2 (The Cartel Publications Presents) Page 12

by Reign (T. Styles)


  to stick to abusing other people’s children. Not feeling totally satisfied

  behind closed doors he managed to create a new fantasy with Bernice. It consisted of placing foreign objects in and out of his ass.

  Although it soothed some of his urges, it wasn’t until he met Tamal

  “Tree” Green that he was totally complete. With Tamal he could play

  the closeted homosexual game. This worked for a while until Tamal

  wanted something Dylan wasn’t able to give him, a public gay relationship. This enraged Tamal who wanted him to leave Bernice. So naturally when Bernice, who knew nothing about her boyfriend’s sexuality

  approached Tree with an idea to make some money, he accepted in the

  name of revenge.

  Realizing pleading with the adults would not stop anything from happening; she complied and endured the sexual abuse as they coached

  the children along.

  “Charmaine and Shelby please,” she begged during the violation of her body. “Help me.”

  “Who you talking to?” Derrick, a short man who was abused

  himself as a child asked. “Why are you always talking to yourself?” “Please, Charmaine and Shelby. Help me.”

  They didn’t help her because they couldn’t. They cowered in

  the corner and turned their backs on her. And after fifteen minutes of

  abuse and taping, the men tired of her.

  “Now you can leave,” Joe told her. “Come give daddy a kiss

  first.”

  She did as she was told and looked back at the boys feeling sorrow for them. One of the children was Swoopes. He kept his head

  down and covered his privates with his hands. He seemed detached and

  angry. Yvonna grabbed her dress and looked at Charmaine and Shelby

  once more. She felt they left her dejected and all alone and before long

  she hated them.

  With her clothing partially on, Yvonna ran back up the stairs

  broken inside. Right before she took solace in her bedroom, she saw

  her mother sitting in the recliner with a new child in her arms. Jhane,

  the woman she’d grown to know as her aunt was standing above

  Diane. Her face had traces of dried tears upon it. She was thin and the

  years of drug abuse had taken its toll on her body. When Yvonna

  looked at Jhane, a woman she saw no more than three times, Jhane

  turned away from her. And for some reason, Yvonna longed to have a

  relationship with her. It never happened.

  Diane handed Jhane some money and after tucking it in her

  worn out jean pocket, she watched her leave. Once she was gone,

  Diane rocked the baby lovingly in her arms. Yvonna would have given

  anything for her mother to hold her with such care.

  “Who is that?” Yvonna asked in a soft tone.

  “Why?”

  “Just wanna know,” she said walking closer.

  “Did you finish dancing for the men downstairs?” Yvonna’s mother always referred to what went on downstairs as

  dancing and Yvonna wondered if she really knew what they were doing

  to her.

  “Yes, mama. I did. Who’s that?” she repeated.

  Diane’s eyes look at the ceiling as she thought of a lie. When she

  found an appropriate answer she said, “Stop being dumb. You know

  this is your baby sister.”

  “Baby sister?” Yvonna asked focusing on the baby’s features. She’d been living there alone with her mother and father and

  never had a sister.

  “But I don’t have a sister.”

  Diane gripped her up by her dress again with one hand and

  yelled, “You betta not eva tell nobody that shit! If you do, I’ll give you

  away.” Yvonna didn’t have a great life anyway, but she certainly didn’t

  want to go somewhere that could be worse. “You do have a baby sister!

  Do you hear me?” Diane’s breasts pressed against the baby’s small head

  and Yvonna is worried she’d smother her.

  “Yes…Yes…I know, mama.” She looked back at the baby with

  concern.

  Diane let Yvonna go and focused on the child in her arms. “That’s right. Now if anybody asks you, her name is Jesse. Jesse

  is gonna make me a lot of money.”

  “Okay, mama.”

  “What’s her name, Yvonna?” She asked giving her an on the

  spot test.

  “Jesse. Jesse Harris.”

  “Now get out of my face and wash up. You stink.” Yvonna didn’t realize but in that moment, something changed

  inside of her. She’d developed a strength she never knew existed. And

  most of all, she developed a strong unconditional love for another. She

  made up in her mind that she’d always protect her, even if her life

  depended on it. She did not want the same dangers to come to baby

  Jesse that she endured.

  Once in her room, she was still thinking about baby Jesse when

  she saw someone inside.“Who are you?!” she said loudly. The girl startled her.

  “Yvonna are you talkin’ to yourself again?!!!”

  Yvonna who knew she’d suffer a severe beating if she were

  caught talking to herself, body began to tremble. “No, mama! I’m not

  talking to myself.”

  “Good! Now take a bath and clean that room!” Yvonna breathed

  a little easier and closed the door.

  “How did you get in here?”

  “I let myself in. You don’t remember me? I’m your new friend.” “But I don’t have a best friend.”

  “Yes you do. Do you wanna be friends with me?” She seemed

  confident and Yvonna wish she was the same way.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Gabriella.” She smiles. “And don’t worry ‘bout nothin’, I’m

  going to protect you from now on. Whenever you’re sad, or hurt, I’ll

  be by your side. Forever and ever.”

  Yvonna developed Gabreilla to protect her baby sister. And

  although Shelby and Charmaine would show up every now and again,

  it was Gabriella she favored and before long the others were completely gone.

  Gabriella opens her eyes in her hospital room and looks around. She’d been pretending to be out of it all day. She remained still as the nurses, doctors and staff members tried to determine how her fingers got mutilated. To them the wounds looked self-inflicted. And all she thought about was finishing what Yvonna started, whether she wanted to or not.

  “About time she’s gone,” she says to herself referring to Penny. “I can’t take one more day of Man Hands Penny touchin’ me.”

  Gabriella eases out of bed. Her clothes were so soaked with blood that they destroyed them immediately after tearing them off her body. On a mission, she moves toward the door. When she doesn’t see lurking hospital officials staring at her she quickly dips back into the room and places on a pair of hospital slippers.

  “I gotta get outta here before these no good ass doctors try to drug me up again. That’s all the fuck they know how to do. Drug a bitch up and shit.”

  Once the slippers are on, she snatches the needles out of her arm. Her right hand throbs with pain but before long she feels nothing. Crazy bastards are known for having a strong threshold for pain. And there was no one crazier than this bitch. Although the bandages do make it harder for her to move around, she walks hurriedly through the hallway. Dipping into each room, she manages to steal enough clothing to conceal her body. The only problem is, she looks the worse she’d ever did in her life.

  “Yvonna, I sure hope you know what I’m doing for us. I’d never be caught dead in this bullshit if it wasn’t for you.”

  Yvonna can’t res
pond because Gabriella has totally taken over and now all hell is about to break loose. Before leaving she manages to steal a syringe. Wearing a run down old brown cap with the word moose stitched on the front and an oversized black shirt and oversized jeans, she exits the hospital in a frenzy.

  “Now where can I go?” The sun is bright and cars whiz up and down the street. Everyone was in a rush and so was she. With the money fund being spent entirely on fashion, she’s broke. She needed a sucka to take her in. And then it dawns on her. “I feel like seein’ me some old ass Penny today!”

  There’s No Stopping Her Now

  Gabriella is in Chevy Chase on the side of the building looking for the perfect prey. It doesn’t take her long to find one. With her plan embedded firmly in her mind, she decides to execute it. The pretty target with almond colored skin that she spots is thin, pretty and fly. She takes notice of the designer jeans she wears along with her stylish red Prada jacket.

  Gabriella walks hurriedly toward her and she is carrying five or six shopping bags in her hands. When the girl deactivates her alarm, Gabriella sees the silver Range Rover and is proud of her choice.

  “I swear I be knowin’ how to pick ‘em.” The license plates reads, Crystal. I hate bitches name Crystal. She thinks. The woman was opening her trunk when Gabriella yells, “So you still gonna fuck wit’ my man, huh?” She has her hands on her hips and the girl’s pretty green eyes widen believing she must be talking to someone else.

  “Are you talkin’ to me?” “Don’t play games wit’ me. Keep that shit up and I’ll stomp you every-which-a-way.”

  “I’m serious. I think you got the wrong person.”

  “Bitch, you know who I am! I’m sick of you sneakin’ behind my back and sleepin’ wit’ what’s mine!” Gabriella points to herself.

  “Are you kidding me?” she says as she accidentally drops her bags. Gabriella notices a brown shoebox with white lettering and knew it could be none other than Christian Louboutin’s signature atop of it. “James still messin’ wit’ you?”

  She can’t believe how gullible the girl is. Not only was she buying the story, she is name-dropping.

  “Yes, I’m talkin’ about James’ bitch ass.” Gabriella steps closer. “My fuckin’ husband, James! And since you don’t know how to listen, I’ma have to make you!”

  The girl looks like she is about to shit herself when Gabriella balls up her fist.

  “Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry! I really am.” She begins to cry. ”I knew he was married but he told me he didn’t want to be with her because she had let herself go. Not saying that you let yourself go,” she offers as an apology, looking at Gabriella’s drab clothing. “He’s supposed to be moving in with me next week and everything. If I knew you were still in the picture, I wouldn’t have ever continued to sleep with him.”

  “Well that’s not good enough, bitch. I’m ‘bout to kick your ass so you will know better in the future.”

  Gabriella was preparing to hit her square in the face to set the tone, when she says, “What if we go approach him together? I’ll tell him to his face it’s over. Just please don’t hit me. If I fight, my father won’t let me be in his fashion show next month.”

  What the fuck? Gabriella thinks. “You just might’ve saved yourself from an ass whoopin’.” She jumps inside the truck. “Let’s go then, Igotta make a stop first.”

  Gabriella makes the unsuspecting girl run her all around town. It was nice being chauffeured. First they stopped at Target where she picked up a few items. And when Crystal tried to stay in the car, Gabriella forced her to get out. There was no way on earth she was letting her money-bag-car-driving-ass get away. Besides, she had credit cards and cash and Gabriella realized she suddenly hit the jackpot!

  After getting all she needed, compliments of her hostage, they get back in the truck. Gabriella allows her to talk as she writes a letter sealing the envelope. Now all she needed was a mailbox. While she looks around for one she occasionally sizes the girl up.

  What Gabriella wasn’t sure of was her shoe size so she decides to ask.

  “What happened to your hand?” Crystal asks turning left and right on the streets leading to James’ barber shop in DC.

  “None of your business. Look, pull over up the street I gotta fart and I don’t wanna blow you away in here.”

  The girl looks at her and wrinkles up her face. “Did you just say fart?”

  “Yes and you might be rich but I know you know what the fuck a fart is. So unless you want me to blow this mothafucka out, I suggest you pull over.”

  The girl pulls over and the moment she does Gabriella says, “Cute shoes! What size are they?”

  “8 ½,” she smiles.

  “Perfect.” Gabriella lunges the butcher knife she just bought into her stomach. Her eyes bulge and turn a shade of red. She touches the knife’s handle like it will go away and Gabriella pushes it deeper and twists it into her abdomen.

  “Don’t fight it. Just let it go. It’s over. You had a nice life and I’m sure your family will give you a rock star funeral.”

  The girl looks at her and tears stream down her face. Why had she trusted a stranger? She looks back down at the knife and back at Gabriella again. And Gabriella, being the impatient bitch that she is says, “Damn, slut would you die already! I got shit to do!”

  So she pushes it deeper inside of her and pounds the end of the handle with her fist for added measure. And finally the girl falls back into her plush cream-colored leather seat and closes her eyes. “Thank you! I was so not feeling the drawn out ass death scene.”

  Gabriella jumps out of the car and runs to the driver’s side and opens her door. The girl’s body drops halfway out and she pulls her completely into the street. She was just about to leave until she remembers the knife has her fingerprints on it and she is still wearing the shoes she wants.

  But when she attempts to take the knife out, it doesn’t move easily. So she places a foot, which is covered with a blue hospital slipper on her chest, balances herself and with her good hand, yanks it out.

  “Got it!” she cheers raising the knife in the air, which is dripping with blood.

  Realizing there’s nothing to cheer about, she puts her arm down and wipes the blood onto the girl’s jacket. And then she takes her shoes off her feet and jumps back into the truck. A ten-year old girl stands in shock witnessing the entire scene.

  “Oh don’t worry. She’s just drunk. She’ll be okay.”

  With that she slams the car door shut and peels into traffic. Being the multi-tasker that she is, she runs over and over in her mind what she plans to do and to who she plans to do it to. She sees her plans so clear in her mind that she smiles with delight.

  “I’ll have my way in not much longer.”

  Once she gets far enough away from the scene, she rummages through the girl’s shopping bags. She is disappointed when she realizes her taste isn’t as grand as she hoped.

  “Damn. I didn’t take you for a mediocre type bitch,” she sighs. “I woulda neva picked this brown dress with your skin tone.” She shakes her head in outrage.

  With her clothing choices limited, she wiggles into the best of the worse settling upon the grim brown dress. The dress is not as comfortable as the hospital clothes even though it was her size. What the fuck did you do to our body, Yvonna? Eating out all the time and shit! She decides to keep the dress on despite slight discomfort and eases into the stolen pair of shoes.

  “I’ll give you credit for these,” she says looking at the pumps against her toned legs. “You most definitely know how to pick a fly pair of shoes.” She throws the hospital gear out the window and searches for good theme music.

  “Damn! Not the Carter 3.” She says excitedly moving in her seat. She loves Lil’ Wayne “Who knew you fucked with Weezie?”

  She places the CD in and allows his mellow voice to run through her body. Then she looks through the Target bag to be sure she has everything she needs to carry out her plans.
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br />   “Okay…let’s see. One syringe, one bottle of liquid Drano, one comb, one brush, two paper bags.” Then she digs into the girl’s purse and pulls out some credit cards and cash. “Okay, a little bit of money and some plastic.” She places the truck into drive. “I got everything I need. Now lets get down to business!”

  The Start Of Somethin’ Vengeful

  “Yeah, this look likes the perfect place!” It was late in the evening and the sky had turned to a purple hue. Gabriella places the stolen Range Rover, which she was cruising around in like she owned the bitch in park and jumps out. She stands out as she struts down the small block that she happened upon in southeast DC. Crack heads and dope fiends were plenty in this area and they were exactly who she was looking for.

  “Now which one of you funky bastards do I want?” She scans the crowd for the thickest-nappy-est-bushiest-headed mothafucka she could find. “Ah ha!” She smiles quickly identifying her match. “Excuse me.”

  The crack head who is about 6 foot tall, dark skinned and thin fixes the old black dress coat he’s wearing, smooth’s out his crusted beard with his hands and says, “No, excuse me! And we can excuse each other for the whole night if you want to.” He is stunting like he was straight out of an old Colt 45 commercial.

  Gabriella laughs and says, “Honey I wouldn’t give you the time of day, if I were driving eighty miles an hour and you were standing in front of my car.”

  “Well excuuuusssse, me.” His breath stank of infection and alcohol.

  “Great, you a drunk too,” she backs up and places her bandaged hand on her hip. “Look, Pookie, you wanna make some cash or what?”

  “Hell yeah! What you want me to do to you?” He claps his rusty hands together and licks what’s left of his dried up lips.

  “For starters you can stop thinkin’ about this pussy cause it ain’t gonna happen, Mr. Roach.” He’s offended but remains silent. “Now, I want you to brush and comb that nest of a head of yours over this bag,” she pulls out the comb and brush and hands it to him. “Then I want you to give it to me when you’re done. Capeesh?”

  “What kind of freaky shit is this?”

  “None of your damn business.” Gabriella tares the brown paper bag open and moves toward a small patch of grass. She places the bag on the ground and says, “Now get over here.” The man follows although slightly confused.

 

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