Never Again, No More

by Untamed

Tony gave the bitch a seething glare. “Cool that shit, girl,” he demanded. After turning to me, he raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, so you caught me. I admit it. I’m guilty as a muthafucka, baby. I’ve been screwing this ho on the side and snorting, but that’s only because your ass is so inexperienced, and plus, I know you won’t hit this good shit,” he said, picking up a a vial of cocaine and holding it in his hand.

  Tears formed in my eyes. There were so many things wrong with this picture. And what the hell did he just say to me? Did he really say he knew I wouldn’t snort coke with him? Did he degrade me in front of his cracked-out whore? My body felt as if it had gone into shock. Aside from the vile words that had spewed from his mouth, the worst thing of all was that he had violated me in the worst way.

  “You’ve been fucking this dopehead bitch and then fucking me too? We got kids! I’m the mother of your children, Tony! What if this bitch catches something and gives it to you and you give it to me? Did you even think about that?”

  “This bitch knows better, but on the real yo, I strap up every time,” he said uncaringly.

  “Every time, ho!” the bitch yelled. “He ’bout to be mine anyway. You can’t feel a nigga like Tony. He needs a bottom bitch like me to hold him down.”

  “You ghetto-slut ho!” I shouted and charged at her, then punched her in the mouth. Once my hands landed on her, I didn’t let up. I whipped her ass so hard that I accidentally punched Tony as he tried to separate us.

  “Fucking bitch!” Tony yelled, and then he backhanded me so hard that I flew off the bed and hit the floor. “My lip is fucking bleeding.”

  As I stood up and held my swollen face, the reality of the situation settled inside me. Here I was, in love with a man who was on drugs, who beat me, and who cheated on me while I took care of all the household responsibilities and our kids. Oh, hell naw. This couldn’t be life. I refused to let this be life. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had reached my breaking point.

  “Get out of my house! Take your bitch and get the fuck out, Tony! I hate your ass! I hate everything about you! I even hate that I had kids by you! Fuck you! I don’t need this shit in my life! Go on, nigga! Take your bottom bitch and be out!” I yelled as I tried to rub away the sting of his slap on my cheek.

  Tony had a sinister look in his eyes when we made eye contact. It felt like I was looking into the eyes of the devil himself. For the first time since I’d known Tony, I looked at him and didn’t know who he was. The Tony I’d loved and given children to no longer existed. He had become a stranger in my house.

  “You think you gon’ kick me out and tear me away from my kids?” he seethed, pointing to himself.

  “You don’t give a fuck about them anyway. Just leave,” I cried, praying that he would just go.

  Biting on his bottom lip, he reared back on his legs and made the cut sign across his neck with his hand. “No, bitch, I ain’t going nowhere,” he said sternly as he shook his head.

  Before I knew it, he was on top of me. I put my arms up to shield my face, but he gut punched me twice. I yelled out in pain and grabbed my stomach. Suddenly, he popped me across my face with his fist, splitting my lip. It felt like I had gotten hit by a truck as blood poured out of my mouth. As I sat there, dazed, he took off his belt and beat me with the buckle.

  “I’m gon’ teach your ass a lesson about frontin’ on me! You are my bitch, and I ain’t going nowhere, and neither are you!” he yelled.

  “Please!” I cried as he repeatedly hit me on my back and thighs with the buckle. Each hit felt as if a brick had landed hard on me. I could feel my skin burning and swelling wherever the buckle landed.

  “I’m Daddy! I’m king in this bitch, and you gonna respect me!” he hollered as spit flew from his lips and landed in my face. His coke-induced high caused his nose to run, and he kept wiping it in between hits.

  I noticed the bottom bitch standing next to the bed, giggling with her high ass. “Get her, baby. Teach her who the boss is! You the boss, baby!”

  He laughed. “Yep, I am. Ain’t I, Kwanzie?”

  She danced in a circle tauntingly. “Yep, shol’ is! Go, Tony. Go, Tony.”

  At this point, I could only take the abuse, but my mind was fixed on murder. I swore I was going to kill him and Kwanzie’s ass as soon as I healed. When I got my hands on them, it would be over for them.

  He grabbed me by my hair and yanked me up off the floor. “Now, who is your daddy?” he asked, looking at me.

  I spat blood in his face. I knew it was a stupid move, but I was pissed. He kicked me in my stomach, I fell down, and he pulled me back up by my hair, but this time, he reached in his waistband, pulled out a nickel-plated 9 mm pistol, and pointed it in my face. “Wrong answer, bitch!”

  I’d never understood the statement about your life flashing before your eyes until that moment. I saw my life flash before my eyes as they grew wide from fear. Any rage I had subsided in an instant. My survival was all that mattered now. I had my kids to think about.

  He took off the safety on the pistol and pointed it at me again. “Now, who is your daddy?”

  Warm tears rolled down my cheeks and mixed with the blood in my mouth. “You are, Tony,” I replied in between sobs.

  He slowly lowered the gun from my face. “Good answer. That’s a good bitch,” he said, releasing his grip and rubbing my hair.

  I walked away slowly, holding my stomach, and prayed that I made it out of the house. I hadn’t made it to the bedroom door yet before he yelled at me.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as he pushed Kwanzie back down onto the bed.

  I turned and faced him. “My stomach . . . my face,” I said, barely able to speak.

  “This shit turns me on. Come over here,” he ordered, motioning to me with the gun.

  Afraid of the consequences of disobeying him, I slowly walked over to him. He turned and held me so that my back was against him.

  “Kwanzie, pull them panties off,” he ordered.

  “What are you doing?” I asked fearfully as she lay back on the bed and removed her underwear.

  “I’m gonna fuck you from the back while you eat that good pussy.” He laughed.

  Instantly, I became nauseated and covered my mouth. “No, please no!”

  “Bitch, come on! My pussy is wet just thinking about this shit. I love when females eat me out,” Kwanzie said with a sinister laugh.

  Desperation and panic filled me as I begged relentlessly for them to stop this. “Tony, please don’t make me do this. I’m not gay. I don’t like pussy, please.”

  With no mercy shown to me, he grabbed me by my neck and held tightly. He pulled me close to him so that his lips grazed my ear. “Eat that shit, and eat it proper, or I will pull this trigger,” he said, his voice low and stern. The pistol’s round muzzle pressed into the back of my neck, and I was scared speechless.

  He pushed me down on the bed doggy-style, snatched my pants down, and penetrated me raw and rough. He pumped and yelled, “Eat that bitch now! Open wide, Kwanzie. Mama gotta eat you.”

  I forced the bile that threatened to escape my lips back down my throat, put my face in her pussy, and began to lick and eat that shit while Tony fucked me from behind. He gripped my ass, and I felt the weight of the gun lying on my back.

  “Ohhh, yes!” Kwanzie yelled. “Tony, this bitch is a natural. She’s eating my shit proper!”

  Tony became more turned on and immediately nutted all over my ass. “Ooh! Shit. That was hot!”

  “Let me taste!” Kwanzie said as Tony flipped me over.

  She went down in between my legs and ate me while he grabbed the Vaseline. This sick nigga masturbated with one hand while pointing the gun at me and Kwanzie with the other. This sick shit must’ve really turned him on, because he came in his hand as he watched her violate my pussy. Kwanzie then turned and sucked all that cum off his dick right in front of my face.

  “That shit was the bomb!” he yelled. “Bitch, get out and go home. My baby gotta get h
erself together so she can take care of my son. Now go!” he ordered Kwanzie, barely giving her time to finish swallowing the cum off his dick.

  This crackhead ho stood up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then dressed quickly. She kissed Tony on the cheek. “See you later, baby.”

  He popped her on the ass before she left. Then he looked at me. “Get up and clean yourself. Where is LaMichael?”

  “Next door,” I replied weakly.

  “Cool. I’m ’bout to take a dump. Clean up and get him,” he said, then placed the gun on the dresser before he walked out into the hall bathroom.

  I ran into our master bathroom and hurled into the toilet repeatedly. When I reached the point that I couldn’t vomit anymore, I got up and poured a load of mouthwash into my mouth. After spitting repeatedly, I brushed my teeth three times, until my mouth was minty fresh and clean. I stood in front of the sink and, using a fresh cloth, washed the blood off my face. My swollen lip couldn’t be hidden, and my body ached from the bruises left by the belt buckle. I couldn’t focus on that, because I had to get my son. Rather than try to cover the many welts and bruises, I put on my shades and walked next door to pick up LaMichael. Despite Jena’s protests, I gathered my son and left, because I needed LaMichael to make it.

  When I returned, Tony emerged from the bathroom and grabbed LaMichael out of my arms. “’Sup, little man?” Tony asked.

  Fearful of what he might do, I attempted to take the baby back. “I got him.”

  Tony pushed my hands away as he continued to grip LaMichael in his arm. “No, I got my man. You go get some ice and get that lip better, and them bruises too. We gon’ sit here and watch the game together, Daddy and son. Then I want you to join us. It’s family time,” he said, as if he hadn’t beaten me into sexual submission with another woman and raped me just ten minutes ago.

  Protesting against him had proven almost lethal, so I walked in the bedroom and locked the door. That was when I noticed Tony’s gun lying on the dresser. In his coke-induced high, he’d forgotten about his piece. I grabbed it and hid it where I knew he’d never look. He was so high, I knew he’d probably forget where he’d even put it. The thought made me laugh as I went into the bathroom and ran the water in the bathtub.

  “Who got the rock now, ma’fucka?” I said aloud to myself as I immersed myself in the tub of hot water.

  Lucinda

  After the incident with Raul and Shanaya, I was all set for battle in court. I didn’t waste any time setting my plan in motion. Trinity loaned me a couple of grand to hire an attorney to help get child support for Nadia, so I hired the best attorney in town, Ira Cheatham, to handle my case. Everybody knew that if Cheatham was on your case, you’d get what you wanted and more.

  I had never wanted to go this far with Raul, but I couldn’t stand the half-ass payments and the disrespect of our child. I needed him to be in Nadia’s life as a full-time parent sharing full-time responsibilities. While I tried to figure out a way to go back to school, I wouldn’t continue to work myself to death to make sure Nadia was taken care of. She was Raul’s responsibility too, and he was going to do his fair share. I meant that shit with every fiber of my soul.

  It had been an uphill battle since the incident. I had tried to talk to Raul once, after I located him over at his dad’s house. The sight had been nothing short of pathetic. The two of them looked like twins with a twenty-year age difference. As they’d sat on the porch and drunk beer as they shot the breeze, they had acted as if they had no cares in the world. When I’d tried to talk to Raul, he’d told me to go check on his mother and that he didn’t have shit to say to me. You would’ve thought his dad would’ve intervened and told him to grow up and not disrespect me or his mother, but that ignorant bastard had continued to drink his beer and had snickered at Raul’s comments. I’d wanted to take the beer bottle and bash both of them upside their heads, but instead, I had left with my pride and had decided that this was going to court.

  Rumor had it, he lived with Shanaya and Raulina, but I wasn’t sure. Above all, I didn’t give a damn. Shanaya could have him. I wouldn’t settle for any old thing, especially a boy in a man’s body. However, I would give a real man my hand in marriage. If she wanted to accept his shit, she was more than welcome, but I was allergic to bullshit.

  Fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, I arrived at the courthouse, just as my attorney had instructed me. When I walked in, I saw my attorney conversing with Raul’s mom in the hallway.

  I approached them. “Hi, Ms. Ana,” I said, and we hugged each other.

  “Hello, Lucinda. I wanted to see if Attorney Cheatham needed my testimony,” she informed me.

  “As I was explaining to Ms. Ana, I want to hold her as my wild card. I’m not sure who’s representing Mr. Garcia, and I like to surprise, not be surprised,” Attorney Cheatham explained. He turned to Ms. Ana. “For now, you can wait in the waiting area, until we know if you are needed.”

  After she hugged me again for encouragement, she walked to the chambers. I sat outside the courtroom with Attorney Cheatham, and he discussed particulars with his assistant. What I saw next made me want to submit a television pilot for a new sitcom. Raul walked into the courthouse, dressed in a purple three-piece suit and matching gators, looking like he had shopped at Pimps ’R’ Us. Shanaya was with him, her arm linked with his, and she was looking casket ready. This silly ho had on a knee-length black dress, a black Sunday hat with a veil attached, and white gloves, and she was carrying a Bible. Raulina followed behind, wearing a flowered dress that was so long, she looked like Celie from The Color Purple. If she stepped in the wrong direction, it seemed as if she would trip over her dress. She could’ve been best friends with Laura Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie. Shanaya and Raulina looked straight ridiculous.

  Attorney Cheatham, his assistant, and I looked at them and immediately burst into laughter.

  “What in the hell is so funny?” Raul shouted at us.

  “Calm down, sir. Do not use that language in the courthouse,” a guard ordered.

  Attorney Cheatham and I walked over to Raul. “I’m sorry, Mr. Garcia. I am representing Ms. Rojas. I’m Attorney Cheatham, and whom do you have with you today?”

  Shanaya stepped forward and shook my attorney’s hand. “God bless you, Mr. Cheatham. I am Raul’s wife, Shanaya, and this is our daughter, Raulina. We are just here for moral support today. I’m not sure why Lucinda wants to put my husband through these changes, but you know we are just leaving it in God’s hands. Jesus will prevail,” she said, using a phony Southern accent and sounding as if she’d just stepped out of revival service.

  Oh, now they wanted to lean on the Lord. I rolled my eyes. “Oh, Lord, have mercy.”

  “Yes!” Shanaya blurted, as if she’d caught the Holy Spirit. “Lord, have mercy on your soul, Lucinda Rojas. I rebuke your evil spirit in the name of Jesus! Hallelujah!”

  “Yeah, well, I hope you brought some tithes and offerings too,” I shot back.

  Attorney Cheatham snickered as he put his hand on my arm to calm me down. “Okay. Pleased to meet you. Mr. Garcia, are you being represented by someone today?”

  “No,” he answered.

  “No, the Lord is all the representation we need. He’s a doctor in the sickroom and a lawyer in the courtroom! Hallelujah,” Shanaya interjected.

  Literally, it took everything in me, and in everyone else who was witnessing this spectacle, to hold in the laughter. This girl was really on one today. I was sure King Jesus got a thrill out of this.

  Attorney Cheatham couldn’t help but get his dig in also. “Okay, then, since I’m going up against Jesus today, will you all excuse me so that I can go have a little talk and tell Him all about our troubles?” he joked as I giggled.

  “Do not be deceived, Attorney Cheatham, Jesus is not mocked!” Shanaya shouted. “It says so in the Twenty-third Psalms.”

  “Mama, it’s pronounced psalm, no s. And the Twenty-third Psalm is the psalm of David. Gr
andma Ana showed that to us,” Raulina said, correcting Shanaya.

  “So! Hush, Raulina. You don’t know what verse in the psalm I was referring to. Don’t interrupt grown-ups when they’re talking,” Shanaya scolded as Raulina rolled her eyes.

  “I’d really love to chat with you all some more, but we need to be heading into the courtroom. Are you ready, Ms. Rojas?” Attorney Cheatham said.

  “Yes, I am.” I took a step closer. “Do I need a church program before I sit down?” I whispered to him.

  “I don’t think so, but they may need a church fan to revive them once I’m finished doing my praise dance on them around the courtroom, though,” he said as we walked inside the courtroom. He laughed.

  We all took a seat and waited. When the judge walked into the courtroom, we all had to rise. After he took one look at Raul and his family, the judge shook his head. Even he knew that Raul and Shanaya were on some bullshit. It didn’t take a genius to see that. I could only imagine the amount of foolery that came through his courtroom on a daily basis. By the look on his face, it was a lot, which further told me that Raul had better have his A game and the entire host of angels in Heaven to make it through this day. Once the judge finished the review of the court papers, he addressed Raul.

  “Mr. Garcia, you do not have counsel with you today?” the judge asked.

  “No, we don’t, Judge. Jesus—” Shanaya began, but the judge interrupted her.

  “I’m sorry. Who are you?” he said.

  “I am Raul’s wife and—”

  “Are you an attorney, Ms. Raul’s wife?” the judge asked sternly, once again interrupting her.

  “No. I’m here for moral support.”

  “Well, in my courtroom, moral support is given in silence, unless you’re a representing attorney or unless I address you. In this case, I was speaking to Mr. Garcia. Please be quiet.” The judge turned his gaze on Raul. “Now, Mr. Garcia, answer my question.”

  “Um, no, sir—”

  “You can say Judge or Your Honor,” the judge said, cutting him off.

  “No, Your Honor. I am representing myself. Jesus will guide me,” Raul replied, stealing a page out of Shanaya’s book.