The Doctor Is In

by Carl Weber

  “Thank you,” she said, arching her back a little like she was posing for him.

  His hand moved from her thigh to the warm space between her legs, and Patrice still didn’t make a move to stop him.

  “You know I see the way you watch me sometimes when you’re over at Voncile’s place, right? So why don’t we stop pretending you don’t want me, and you can give me some of that pussy.”

  To his surprise, that was all he had to do to get her. Patrice wasted no time straddling his lap, looking ready for whatever he wanted to give her.

  Voncile’s friend is about as loyal as Kasen, he thought with disgust. Still, she was eager to give up the pussy, and he was not the kind of man who would ever turn that down.

  “That’s a good girl,” he said. “Hurry up and take those panties off and sit on my face.”

  Patrice stood up and removed her pajamas, standing totally naked in front of Omar. She nudged his shoulder and said, “Lie down.”

  He did as he was told, and then she climbed on top, placing her moist coochie directly over his mouth. Omar got to work, sucking and licking her, but he was so drunk from all the gin he’d had on the way over, he wasn’t hitting the spots Patrice needed him to. She started gyrating her hips to try to help things along, but all of a sudden, Omar’s mouth stopped moving.

  “What the hell—?” she said out loud as she got off of him. “I know this motherfucker ain’t—”

  She looked down at Omar, and sure enough, he was sound asleep, snoring lightly.

  “Damn it. Omar, get up!” she said, nudging his shoulder roughly.

  His eyelids fluttered open. “Wha . . . what did you say?”

  “Stop playing. Are we gonna do this or not?”

  Omar struggled to lift himself from the couch. He reached for his jeans, removing a condom from his pocket. He gave it to Patrice.

  “Hell yeah, we’re doing this. Put that on me and let’s rock and roll.” He lay back on the couch, crossing his arm over his forehead.

  Patrice unwrapped the condom and used her mouth to put the condom on him. That made him wake up—a little.

  “Yeah, baby, I likes that,” Omar said. “You are on the right track, ’cause I am almost there.”

  Minutes later, he seemed ready to aim and shoot, so she straddled his lap again. This time, she latched her coochie in the right place, and as Omar fully opened his eyes, Patrice started to ride him. She was doing most of the work, while he looked at her with a glassy film covering his eyes.

  “How did you get up there?” he slurred.

  “I put myself up here,” she said, breathing heavy. “Now, are you down with this or not, Omar?”

  “Yeah, sure, baby. I’m down,” he said, but within a few seconds, his eyes were closed and he was snoring again.

  Patrice climbed off of him and slapped his leg to wake him up. “You need to get your drunk ass out of here. I was getting some good sleep before you came over here with this bullshit. Talk about a waste of time.”

  Omar sat up, scratching his bald head. “What’d I do?” he said with a yawn.

  “Not a damn thing,” she said, sucking her teeth. “That’s the problem. You brought your drunk ass over here and woke me up, but you can’t even keep your eyes open or your dick hard. So now you got to leave.”

  “Look, bitch,” Omar said, standing up and towering over her, “after the day I’ve had, I don’t need no attitude from you.”

  She took a step back, clearly intimidated by him now.

  “So just go get me some orange juice and an aspirin and I’ll carry my ass out of here.”

  She sucked her teeth again in defiance, but she still turned around to go get him the things he’d asked for. On her way into the bedroom, she threw one last insult over her shoulder. “Voncile was right. Your dick ain’t all that anyway.”

  That was the final straw for Omar. He had taken all the disrespect he could handle for one day, and now Patrice was going to have to pay the price. He rushed up behind her, grabbing her arms and pinning them against her back.

  “Ow, you psycho! Take your fuckin’ hands off me!” she yelled as he shoved her toward the bed.

  Still half out of his mind from the alcohol and seething with anger, he bent Patrice over the bed and forced her legs open. Before he even had time to rethink what he was about to do, he had plunged himself deep inside of her.

  “Still want to talk shit, Patrice? Still want to say my dick isn’t good enough for you?”

  Patrice cried out in pain. “Omar, stop! I never should have said that. I’m sorry! Just please, stop!”

  He started to pump her with full force. “I may not be Kasen, but I still know how to fuck a woman real good. Admit it, Patrice.”

  “What are you talking about? What does Kasen have to do with anything?” she cried out.

  Suddenly, he stopped moving. What the fuck am I doing? he asked himself. Finding out about Voncile and Kasen having sex had really messed with his mind even more than he had realized. He pulled himself out of Patrice and let go of her arms.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he helped her get up. “I don’t know what came over me.” He hoped like hell that she would accept his apology, because the last thing he needed was for her to be calling the cops and having him arrested for rape.

  Before he knew what was happening, Patrice had run to her nightstand and pulled a handgun out of the top drawer. She whipped around and waved the gun at him.

  “You need to get the fuck out of her, Omar. Right now.”

  Omar nodded and raised his hands, slowly walking backward out of the room. Patrice followed him, still aiming the gun in his direction. She stood nearby as he got dressed, and then she escorted him to the door, slamming it behind him.

  Omar was glad to be out of there with all of his body parts intact and no bullet holes. I never should have come over here, he thought as he got in his car and headed to Voncile’s house. After all, it was her, not Patrice, who deserved all of his anger.

  Chapter 10

  “What do you want? Why do you people keep waking me up?” Voncile said when she answered her phone.

  “I don’t know what you mean by you people,” Patrice said, “but I wanted to call and let you know that Omar almost left out of here in a body bag. He came here tripping, drunk as hell. I was lucky I had my gun close by. I didn’t know he was like that. Did you?”

  Voncile gasped. “I’m well aware of what kind of man Omar is, but damn, I didn’t know he was capable of rape. What was he doing at your place anyway? He said he was coming over here.”

  “Girl, I’ll be damned if I know what the fuck he was doing here. Like I said, that fool was drunk.”

  “Well, don’t you worry. I will deal with him when I see him,” Voncile promised. “In the meantime, this heifer over here is getting on my nerves.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Patrice responded. “Let me know what I can do. And have your guard up tonight. Omar is on a rampage.”

  “Please. I ain’t worried about Omar,” Voncile said boldly. “I’ll talk to you later, girl.” She ended the call.

  Voncile sat in her living room thinking about what Patrice had told her. She wanted to know why Omar had gone to see Patrice in the first place considering she was Voncile’s friend, not his. And what the hell would have caused him to go crazy like she said he did? It wasn’t long before Omar showed up and she got her answer.

  He was pounding on her door loudly, and as soon as she unlocked it, he barged in, yelling in her face. “Why in the fuck did you have sex with him?” Omar barked. “That wasn’t the plan, Voncile, and you know it!”

  Voncile backed up quickly. “Whoa, wait a minute and calm down. You don’t have to come in here yelling and screaming at me. And before you start yelling at me about Kasen, what’s up with you going to Patrice’s house? I didn’t know the two of you were close like that.” She tried to flip the script on him.

  Omar shook his head. “I can’t believe that bitch called you alrea
dy, but since she did, let me just say to you that she is no friend of yours. That ho tried to rape me. I went there to sleep off my headache from drinking, but I couldn’t rest because she kept trying to get a piece of this.”

  Voncile cut her eyes at Omar. “I really don’t care about all of that. She said you attacked her, and now you’re saying she tried to rape you. Whatever, Omar. Just tone it down and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  His voice was full of sarcasm. “Thanks for letting me get back to the subject I came here to discuss with you. We were talking about you and Kasen, remember?”

  “Yes, you were, but allow me to clear the air. I didn’t intend to have sex with him. He came over last night, told me that he had been going through some things, and then one thing led to another. I don’t know why you’re so upset. It’s really not a big deal,” she said flippantly. She knew he was pissed off, and she kind of enjoyed it.

  Omar wasn’t trying to hear that. His face twisted, and his voice went up several notches. “Bitch, it’s a big deal to me! How could you think it wouldn’t be? You let him come in here, knowing that Raine is here too? Why would you do something like that? For all I know, the two of you could be plotting against me. This is so messed up, Voncile. You fucked up!”

  Voncile reached out to Omar, trying to calm him down. He caught her by surprise when he shoved her back, making her fall on the couch.

  “Don’t touch me, especially when I don’t know where your hands have been,” he shouted, spit flying from his mouth. “From what Kasen said, you did things to him that you have never done to me, you whore.”

  Voncile evil-eyed Omar. She wanted him to cut the crap, and she was livid that he had shoved her. She could barely think straight, but she knew she had to say something to get him to calm down before one of them got hurt.

  “It’s obvious that you’re upset, but you’re not going to get anything accomplished by putting your hands on me. I think it would be best for you to leave,” she told him. “I’m not going to let you stand there and bully me, Omar. You should know me better than that.”

  “I thought I did know you. But then you went and fucked my friend—or should I say my enemy? I can’t just sweep this underneath the rug even though you want me to. I don’t operate like that, and you should know me better than that.”

  Voncile was pissed off now. If he thought she was going to let Kasen go now when things were just starting to heat up, then he was sorely mistaken.

  “The bottom line is, in order for us to finish what we started, you will have to control your feelings and get over what happened between Kasen and me. Besides, the last time I checked, you and I weren’t even in a relationship. Please tell me why we’re arguing about who I have sex with.”

  Omar moved forward, gritting his teeth. “You really want me to tell you why? Is that what you want to know?”

  Voncile didn’t back down. She stood to confront Omar, crossing her arms in front of her. “Yes. I do want to know why.”

  His fists tightened. “I can show you better than I can tell you.” Catching Voncile off guard, Omar raised his fist and punched her in the stomach.

  She grabbed her stomach, doubling over in severe pain. She couldn’t believe Omar had done that to her. The hard punch had knocked the breath out of her, but Omar didn’t stop there. He pushed her back on the couch then he laid his body over her. His knee was pressed into her chest so she couldn’t move. His evil eyes stared into her tearful ones.

  “You gave him everything he wanted,” Omar hissed. “I thought we were supposed to be in this shit together! How the fuck are we supposed to bring him down when you’re over here doing shit that lifts him up? And then you have the audacity to snap your voice at me and catch an attitude like I’m the one who’s wrong? Fuck that! Who’s wrong, Voncile? ’Cause it damn sure ain’t me.”

  Voncile couldn’t say much with all of Omar’s weight on top of her. Slow tears ran from the corner of her eyes; she couldn’t believe this was happening. Her body weakened, and when Omar shook her around, demanding that she answer him, she quickly spoke up.

  “I wa . . . was wrong,” she strained to say. “Pleeease get off. I ca . . . can’t breathe.”

  Omar pointed his finger between her eyes. “It’s going to hurt more if you fuck him again. I’m warning you, Voncile. Keep your eyes on the prize, until we get this over with. Don’t fuck up! Do you hear me?”

  She nodded, but rage was in her eyes. How dare he treat her that way? How dare he put his hands on her and demand anything from her? His actions triggered something in her that she couldn’t let slide. When Omar got up to walk away, he never could have imagined that Voncile, sweet little Voncile, was on the verge of causing his demise.

  She picked up a heavy wooden bat that was in the corner. Omar was on his way out the door when she lifted the bat over her head and came crashing down with it. It landed on the back of his head.

  “What the fuck!” he yelled as he stumbled from the blow.

  Voncile didn’t let another second pass her by. She struck him again and again and again. His blood splattered on the walls, and an eyeball broke from his socket. When his body hit the floor, Voncile stood over him, glaring at him with hate in her eyes. The bloody bat was still in her hand. Making sure that she hit a home run, she struck Omar in the face one last time.

  “What do you have to say about that?” She swiped her hands together then spit on him. “You stupid fool. Didn’t you know better than to come over here and put your fucking hands on me? Don’t you know what kind of woman I am? I bet you won’t put your hands on another motherfucking woman again! Will you, Omar? Speak up, my dear. I can’t hear you! Were you wrong or right for doing this shit? Better yet, let me answer that for you. You were wrong, wrong, wrong!”

  She tossed the bat on top of him then stormed down the hallway. Her breathing was heavy, chest heaved in and out. She was disgusted by how Omar had treated her. She had told him about her past; therefore, he should have known better. He was the only person who had known, aside from the counselor, that damn Mr. Jeffries, whom she had trusted.

  Everything that had just happened with Omar sent Voncile’s mind spiraling back to the traumatic events of her childhood. First Mr. Jeffries entered her thoughts, and then her mind traveled back further, to the reason she ended up in foster care in the first place. With Omar’s blood on her face and hands, she stared at herself in the mirror as her mind went all the way back to the terrible day she witnessed her father murder her mother—the day that changed her life and her affected her sanity forever.

  Seven-year-old Voncile was standing in the hallway, listening to her parents fight for what seemed like the millionth time. Their voices were raised, and the tension was getting thicker as they spewed insults at each other in the kitchen. Voncile figured things were about to turn ugly. She wanted this to stop. With tears cascading down her face, she ran into the kitchen, still carrying her backpack from school. She stood right in front of her mother, trying to protect her.

  “Stop it, Daddy! Stop being so mean to Mommy!”

  Everything happened so quickly. Before she knew what was happening, her father had shoved her out of the way, snatched up her mother, and pressed a giant knife against her neck.

  “This is for betraying me, bitch. I win, you lose,” he said to Voncile’s mother before slicing her throat open.

  Her mother’s body crashed to the floor, and Voncile ran to her, almost slipping in the blood that was collecting beneath her. Using skills she had learned from a first aid lesson at school, Voncile pressed her hands against the gaping wound. In her innocent mind, she thought she could stop the bleeding, but it was too late. Her mother had already stopped breathing.

  “Mommy, noooo,” she cried when she finally realized her mother was dead. “No, Mommy, come back.”

  Voncile looked at her father with an evil glare. He stood still, as if cement had been poured over him.

  He started to speak. “I . . . I’m sorry, baby girl
. I didn’t mean to do—”

  Joshua paused, dropped the bloody knife, and then he ran off. Seconds later, Voncile heard the front door shut. She crawled on her hands and knees, through the pool of blood, over to the phone. She dialed 911 and begged for someone to come save her mother. She was still young enough to believe in magic, and was wishing with all her heart that they would bring her back to life. When the paramedics arrived, she learned the truth: she would never see her mother again. That was the day her life became a living hell. It was also the day a rage was planted deep in her soul that would never leave her.

  Years later, Voncile got a small bit of satisfaction when she found out her father was alive. Voncile had just turned eighteen, but she was far from an innocent teen. She was a real force to be reckoned with. People on the streets, where she spent the majority of her time, referred to her as Killa Girl.

  After the murder, Joshua had managed to flee the area, and he went into hiding for a long time. Truth was, a black woman murdered in that part of town wasn’t given much attention by the police. Voncile doubted they ever seriously looked for her mother’s murderer, even though she had witnessed it and told them it was her father. When she was sitting in the station waiting for a social worker to bring her to the foster home, she overheard one of the cops saying, “That punk is probably already in the wind.” Another one replied, “Yeah, some other thug will kill him sooner or later. No need for us to look too hard for him.” Those words stayed with her forever, and Voncile vowed that she would personally never stop looking for her mother’s killer.

  When he thought enough years had passed, Joshua got bold and made his way back to the old neighborhood, getting a part time job at a local hardware store. Word got back to Voncile pretty quickly that he was around, and she wasted no time going over there to see for herself. She watched him from a distance for a few days, learning his patterns. He parked in the same spot every day, and always showed up five minutes before his shift was supposed to start. When she felt ready, Voncile made a trip into the store while he was working.