Never Again, No More

by Untamed

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I screamed, looking around the room.

  There was cocaine lined up on a mirror that lay flat on the dresser, with two rolled-up dollar bills. A couple of bottles of beer were on the dresser too, and Tony was straight gettin’ Misha raw from behind. Tony and Misha looked like deer caught in headlights. He stopped mid pump, removed his wet, dripping dick from her, and hurriedly pulled up his pants. As he did, she scrambled across the bed to get her jeans.

  “Baby, baby, baby!” Tony slurred, staggering toward me. “She wanted to get some of this dick. I had to oblige her, you know. She so loose. Come on and hit this shit with us,” he said, licking coke off his fingertip.

  “Misha!” I cried as tears threatened to spill over. “What are you doing? How could you do this to me?”

  She staggered toward me, drunk and high. “I’m sorry, Meka.” She giggled. “We were just kickin’ it, and he asked me to try the coke. But I swear, this is the first time we fucked. You don’t want him no way.” She giggled again.

  I reached back to the depths of hell and slapped the shit out of her, which sent her flying to the floor. “I bring you in my fucking house, bust my ass to make a way for you, and this is how you repay me? This is what you do? You fucking little bitch! I should’ve left your trifling, good-for-nothing ass at Mama’s house!” I shouted.

  Tony walked so close to me that the stench of alcohol emanating from him nearly knocked me out. “Don’t trip, Meka. Come on. We can make this shit a family affair. Me, you, and your sister. Ooh-wee, that shit will be so tight. Just get down with the prog—”

  I was so fucking pissed that I reached back to the depths of hell again and slapped the shit out of him, cutting him off mid-sentence.

  “You fucking bitch!” he screamed and backhanded me. I felt my head snap to the side as I flew into the dresser. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he questioned in a rage and charged toward me.

  Misha jumped in front of him. “No, Tony, no! That’s my sister. Please don’t!” she shrieked, but he smacked the shit out of her, and she fell to the floor again.

  He turned to charge at me again, but I was ready for his ass this time. I slid the dresser drawer open and retrieved the gun I had hidden the last time he beat me. Enough was fucking enough. Just as he got close, I turned around with the gun and aimed it directly at his head. That stopped him dead in his tracks.

  “Come on, muthafucka! Do it! Hit me! Try to, anyway, and I promise you, I will spread every last one of your evil-ass thoughts across this floor!” I shrieked.

  “You don’t know what you doing with that thing!”

  “Oh, yes I do! Point and shoot. That’s all I need to know.”

  “Fucking bitch!” he yelled.

  “Get your child-molesting bitch ass out of my house! And don’t come back!” I hollered.

  Instead of leaving, as a normal person would, he threw caution to the wind and lunged toward me because of his coke-induced high. I tried to shoot, but the safety was on, so I took the butt of the gun and bashed him across the face just before he was able to hit me. The force knocked him backward, and he collapsed on the floor, with blood running from his mouth and nose.

  “Goddamn bitch!” he screeched, holding his face in his hands. “Ah shit!” he yelled from the shock of seeing his blood.

  I grabbed Misha by the arm. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said, hoping to escape before he got himself together.

  She staggered with me into the living room. I grabbed Tony Jr., and she grabbed LaMichael. Thankfully, LaMichael’s baby bag was by the door, so I snatched it and my purse, and we ran out the door. By the time I’d put Tony Jr. in the car, Tony was running out of the house. I jumped in the driver’s side, slammed my door, and locked all the doors just as Tony was about to snatch my door open.

  “Open this fucking door!” he yelled, enticing a few neighbors to gather and gawk at the scene.

  “Leave me alone, Tony!” I yelled, tears of fear streaming down my face. “Please.”

  He hit the glass with his fist, and the force of the impact caused Misha and me to jump. “Open up, before I break the muthafucka!” he hollered.

  “Find the car keys!” I yelled at Misha as I frantically searched for them.

  She shook so bad that when she retrieved the keys from my purse, she dropped them on the floorboard. She bent down, picked them up, and handed them to me. I put the key in the ignition just as Tony busted my driver’s-side window. Shards of glass flew onto the curb, on my hair, and all over my face and hands, leaving bloody gashes. As blood started running down my face, he reached in the car, grabbed my throat, and choked me as I turned the ignition. Tony applied more pressure to my windpipe as I stared into the angry, bloodshot eyes of the man I used to know. I swear to God, I saw my life flash before my eyes, and I prayed that God would see me through. Misha and the kids cried as Misha tried to pry his hands off my throat.

  “Somebody help me, please!” Misha screamed.

  A couple of guys from the neighborhood ran over and tackled Tony to the ground just before I was about to lose consciousness. Gagging and coughing, I held my throat as I heard Jena, my neighbor, and Misha frantically yelling for me to drive away. Still coughing, I grabbed the steering wheel with one hand, threw the gearshift into drive, and hauled ass. I drove around aimlessly for an hour to gather my thoughts. My adrenaline was pumping, and my nerves were so bad, I still shook. The boys had fallen asleep, and Misha sat on the other side of the car, in tears.

  “I’m so sorry, Meka,” she cried, looking over at me. “I knew better. It just seemed all right at the time. I’m so sorry for everything.”

  I ignored her. My thoughts were going a mile a minute, and my emotions were running rampant.

  “Meka, say something, please,” she begged.

  I looked over at her and rolled my eyes.

  “Please say you forgive me.”

  “You fucked Joe, didn’t you? Admit it,” I said, staring at the road.

  She nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said quietly.

  I hit the steering wheel. “I should’ve fucking known it! I can’t believe that all this time Mama and Joe were right! You ain’t nothing but a scandalous trick!”

  “The way Mama kicked me out . . . I guess she got what she deserved,” she said sadly.

  “So why did you do it to me? I sure as hell didn’t deserve it!”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just so much . . . ,” she said, her voice drifting off. “Please say you forgive me,” she begged. “I’ll die if you don’t.”

  As I pulled up to Mama’s house, I addressed her. “I forgive you because regardless of the fact that you may be seventeen years old, you’re a baby in the mind, and you don’t know shit.”

  “What are we doing here?” she asked.

  “You are going back to Mom’s. I can’t deal with you,” I said angrily.

  “No, Meka, please,” she pleaded.

  “Get out of my car,” I said sternly, looking at her.

  “LaMeka—”

  I looked straight ahead as she slowly opened the door and slid out.

  “I’m sorry, Meka. I don’t know how to make it right—”

  “Go home, finish school, and grow the fuck up,” I interrupted and then drove away. I didn’t even have the heart to make sure she made it in the house first.

  I drove until I pulled up to a twenty-four-hour shelter for abused women and children. The pastor had told me about it. Now that the adrenaline rush from the incident and my sister had worn off, I felt weak from the loss of blood. I got out of the car somehow and staggered to the door of the shelter, which was half open. My pastor was standing in the foyer, engrossed in a conversation with some lady.

  “Pastor Gaines,” I said weakly and stumbled inside.

  “Oh, God, LaMeka!” he yelled. My legs finally gave out, and Pastor Gaines caught me just before I hit the floor.

  “My babies are in the car. I’m too weak.
I need a place—”

  And suddenly everything went black.

  Stay tuned for . . .

  Never Again, No More 2: Getting Back to Me