Love Don't Have to Hurt

by Lucinda John

  “Mom, I’ll call you back,” I said, hanging up the phone.

  I knew Aimee was going to pull something like this, that’s is why I told my mother to call me if Aimee came and got the baby. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Carol and Roger were the masterminds behind her leaving me. Scrolling through my phone, I clicked on the GPS app to pinpoint her location.

  “Smart bitch.” I laughed to myself when I realized that her car and phone had been sitting in the same location for about five hours.

  Aimee was a smart girl by leaving the items that she thought I had a tracking device on behind. Little did she know that I had one implanted in all of Aimee’s car seats. I knew if Aimee ever made a move, it wouldn’t be without our precious baby girl, so I made sure to have them bugged. When I opened up a new app to find the location based on the tracking device that was in the car seat, I saw that she was in Daytona. Since I knew where she was, I decided to carry on with my business trip and deal with her when I got home.

  “Hey daddy, you want to have some fun?” April asked, walking in the empty conference room.

  Every time I would fly in for a presentation, April would be my assistant. She was a big booty freak that reminded me so much of Aimee before she had the baby. If only Aimee would lose those extra ten pounds, life for us would be perfect. I hated coming home to her baby fat pouch and stretch marks, it was a turn off.

  “No, but you can come suck this dick,” I harshly spat.

  Instead of cursing me out, she crawled over to me on her knees, and got to work. Bitches like her is why I had so little respect for women. Instead of standing their ground, they fall and crumble at your every demand. The thought of Aimee growing some balls and leaving me, turned me on just as much as it pissed me off. I had every intention on fucking her, right after I beat some sense in her head and dragged her ass back home.

  ****

  I was sitting in a rental outside of a beautiful beach home, watching Aimee talk to another man. The way she giggled at him as he touched my daughter’s arms, pissed me off. The fact that she left with my daughter to come lay up with another nigga had me ready to commit murder. It was too early in the day to show my ass, so I decided to sit and stalk them.

  When the guy turned around I realized it was Roger’s brother, Romeo. Fire started coming out of my nose and ears as I watched him pick up my baby and walk to his car. I kept a safe distance behind them as I followed them to Buffalo Wild Wings. I wanted so badly to follow them inside the restaurant, but I didn’t want Aimee to find out I was on to her. I sat there, running my finger across my gun, and counted the seconds she was in there with him. The day Aimee allowed me to slide my dick in her pussy, was the day she signed a contract to be mine forever. I wasn’t the type to share my bitch, so the only way Romeo and Aimee were going to be together is in their grave.

  They finally walked out of the restaurant, looking like a family. The way Aimesha was asleep in his arms shattered my male ego. To watch another man with your family is the most hurtful shit ever. My fingers began to feverishly tap against the butt of the gun, as I used mind to control my trigger finger.

  I followed them back to the house where they both disappeared inside. The thought of him pinning her against the wall and sliding in my safe haven caused me to lose it. I was about to get out and kill both of their asses, until Romeo came out and got in his car. Since I had a score to settle with his ass, I decided to follow him to his destination.

  We arrived to a family home that was thirty minutes away from the one Aimee was staying in. A little boy that was a spitting image of Romeo ran in the grass. I watched as he smacked a curvaceous, heavy set woman on the ass, then kissed her on the lips. Watching him with his family brought my mind to ease. The way he kissed his beautiful girl and played with my son reminded me of what I had at home with Aimee. If Romeo could love a woman that was twice Aimee’s size, then maybe I can overlook Aimee’s weight gain, or maybe slip a few diet pills in her food. Instead of running up and killing him, I decided to let them be. My beef wasn’t with him, it was with my slut of a wife.

  Night claimed the sky when I finally made my way back to the house Aimee was staying in. The lights in the house were all off, so I decided to move in. With my burglary tools, I was able to pick the cheap locks and walk in the house. I spotted the baby laying in a play pen, peacefully sleeping, and my wife slumped over the bed.

  “Get the fuck up!” I yelled, smacking her across the face.

  Instead of crying, she just looked at me with her glassy eyes. The pair of eyes that looked back at me were one of those that were high. I couldn’t believe this bitch had the nerve to be getting high while caring for my child. That had to be the most irresponsible thing that a mother could do. Pissed at her actions, I began beating her with my fist.

  Instead of crying or begging for her life, she just sat there, further enraging me. I started throwing force into my blow, but she still didn’t make a sound. She was so far gone off the drugs that nothing I did to her brought her any pain.

  “I’m still leaving,” she whimpered.

  “The only way you’re leaving is through death,” I spat with my chest rising and falling.

  “Kill me then,” she faintly replied.

  “Are you high?” I asked.

  “Kill me you stupid bastard. I no longer want to be with you. I want a divorce,” she said, causing a painful sensation to shoot through my heart.

  “You think I’m fucking playing with you,” I said, pulling out my gun and pointing it at her. She paid me no mind, which made me go crazy. I blacked out and started pistol whipping her. I was in another world, a world where I was forced to live without Aimee and Aimesha. The thought of her taking my daughter and abandoning me to fall in love with another nigga, drove me insane. I couldn’t fathom the thought of living without her. To wake up every morning and not have Aimee by my side was a feeling I didn’t want to experience.

  When I finally came back to reality, Aimee’s body laid lifeless on the floor. The floor was a bloody mess and her once beautiful face was now swollen and unrecognizable. Tears formed in my eyes as I tried my best to wake her up. My fingers went up to her neck to feel for a pulse, but there wasn’t one. Panic began to fill me as I desperately tried to perform CPR.

  “Aimee baby, wake up,” I cried as I blew air through her bloody, swollen lips.

  I would threaten to kill her, but I would never do such a thing. I only used that as a scare tactic to keep her from leaving me. The more I stared down at her bloody body, the harder I cried. I couldn’t believe I killed my wife. Just the thought of burying my wife made me sick to my stomach.

  After hurling and losing everything I had in my stomach, I slid down to the floor next to Aimee. I held her body in my hands and started rocking back and forth as I cried. I felt movement from her, but I must have been imagining it because when I looked down, her eyes were still closed.

  “What the fuck man!” I sobbed. “Aimee baby, wake up, ma. Please, I’m sorry. I swear if you get up I won’t hit you anymore. Baby, please,” I cried.

  When she didn’t reply, I picked up the gun and placed the cold steel in my mouth. Clamping my mouth around the nozzle of the gun, I said my final prayer, asking God to be with my daughter. With Aimee dead, my life held no purpose. I knew I had Aimesha that needed me; however, I couldn’t look into her face knowing I was the one that took her mother away from her.

  I thought back to the very first day I saw my father hit my mother. Although I shrugged off my mother’s abuse, it effected the man I was today. I was exactly like my father, even though I tried on numerous occasions to convince myself I wasn’t. The therapist hit the nail on the head when he called me out on it a long time ago, but I was too stubborn to see it. Maybe if I actually completed my anger management class instead of bringing home a fake certificate, then Aimee would have still been alive. With my wife gone, I no longer had the desire to live anymore.

  “Sorry, Aimesha.”

 
; POW!

  Chapter 24

  Aimesha

  (18 years later)

  “You stupid bitch, you ain’t good for shit,” my boyfriend of three years, John, screamed at me.

  He threw the plate of food I placed in front of him at the wall, decorating it with the baked chicken, green beans, and mash potatoes I cooked for dinner. The chicken wasn’t seasoned to his liking, so he decided to paint the wall with it. Without him having to tell me, I grabbed the dish rag and started cleaning up the mess.

  “Since you can’t cook my meal right, order Egg Roll Hut. I’m sure them Chinese hoes down there know how to cook a better chicken than you. Matter fact, I should go down there and bag me a Ming Lee,” he chuckled to himself.

  With my mouth sealed shut, I finished cleaning the mess, then got up to place John’s order. Once I was done, I went back to the kitchen to finish washing the dishes and making sure everything was in order. John hated for the house to be a mess, that is why I stayed with a mop and bucket in my hand.

  I met John when I moved in with my uncle Jordan and aunt Shanice at the age of fifteen. He was the big man on the block, and I was the little naïve girl that was going through a lot of shit; one reason being my mother being heavily hooked on drugs. The night my father brutally assaulted my mother, she survived. She always told me that it was my cries that brought her back to life.

  Hearing my loud wails, Roger’s grandmother came over to see if I was ok. Once she noticed my parents’ body, she called the police. My father was pronounced dead on the scene and they were able to resuscitate my mother, putting her in critical condition. After six months of being in the hospital, my mother made a full recovery… Well, on the outside at least. The trauma she experienced that night drove her right to drugs. When the Percocets weren’t strong enough for her, she started experimenting until she fell in love with the white girl, crack.

  Since my father was dead, everything was left to me and my mother. She was able to get her life on track and she was doing a pretty good job at taking care of me and hiding her addiction from the world. At the age of ten, I realized what my mother was doing, but kept it our little secret because of the love I had for her. I learned at an early age to do things for myself that my mother would sometimes lack on, due to her being high.

  I was in the tenth grade when Department of Children and Family came and picked me up. My neighbor reported my mother to them, telling them how she saw my mother sucking from the glass dick while I was in her care. True enough, when I made it home, the police were there tearing through everything, when they found enough drugs to supply the city. Since my mother was a millionaire, she was able to buy her drugs in large amounts.

  Since my mother and grandmother had beef, she asked Shanice and Jordan to take me in. Shanice had no problem taking me in, and I’ve been living with them until I turned eighteen and was awarded my trust fund. Every time John slapped, punched, and kicked me, I blamed my mother. If it wasn’t for her allowing my father to ruin her life, I wouldn’t be in the same situation she was once in. I loved John with all my heart, but the beatings were becoming more frequent.

  “Bitch, you don’t hear the fucking door?” he yelled, causing me to jump back to reality.

  Grabbing my purple Michael Kors wallet, I went to the door to pay for John’s food. Removing the contents from the bag, I placed the food on a crystal plate and sat it in front of him. While he ate his food, I went upstairs to take a much needed shower. I had class in the morning and I didn’t want to be late.

  I admired myself in the oval shaped mirror that hung behind my bathroom door, and couldn’t understand why I was taking this shit from John. I was a replica of my mother. From head to toe, we looked just alike. People that didn’t know us use to mistake us as twins. The only difference was I had my father’s deep dimples, which I’d gotten pierced.

  I stared at my face and could see the faint scars from where John punched me in the eyes two weeks ago. I was a pretty girl with a nice head on her shoulders. I was smart, rich, and ambitious. I could walk in a room and have any guy I wanted, but I couldn’t understand why I was so stuck on stupid over John.

  Maybe it was because he was there for me when I needed someone the most. Maybe it was because he was my one and only the first guy I experienced everything with. Maybe it was because I grew up without a father, and I needed to feel some type of love to fill the void. Whatever the reason was, I had to do something about it. The fact that my mother lost her life trying to get away from my father did play a big role in me staying with John. I was more afraid, than in love with him. John was the big man on the block, the plug. He ran the city with an iron fist. Everyone was afraid of him, that is why he was able to get away with slapping my ass in a police station. Before I could step in the shower, I felt a pair of arms wrap around me.

  “I’m sorry baby,” he spoke in my ear, before kissing it.

  “Mm,” I moaned, once I felt him slip his tongue in my ear.

  “You know I love you, right?” he said with his finger stirring my honey pot.

  “Yassssssssssssss,” I cried out in pleasure, opening my legs wider. John knew exactly what to do to make me forget all about his nasty ways.

  “Good,” he said, pushing my back against the cream shower tiles.

  Propping my legs against the crook of his arms, my back arched as he slipped his tongue in me. He devoured my pussy, eating away any thoughts of me leaving him. The way he licked every fold in my pussy had me gripping his dreads, while I screamed out bloody Mary. I cursed him out in Portuguese, a language I picked up in one of my classes, before I came long and hard. Before I could recover from the nut I just busted, his dick was buried deep in my ovaries, while he pounded me all over the Italian style walk in shower.

  “Get dressed, we about to make some moves,” John said, puffing on a blunt. He took a few more pulls before passing it to me.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “I’m about to do some drops, then I want to go see that new Kevin Hart movie that just came out, that nigga funny as fuck,” he chuckled, disappearing inside of his walk in closet.

  In our massive bedroom held three walk in closets, one for each of our clothes, and another that held our shoes and accessories. John and I were both into fashion and had expensive taste. Even though I was born into money and could afford everything and then some, John still spoiled me rotten. I couldn’t remember the last time I swiped a card that had my name on it.

  He came out of the closet wearing a Miami Dolphins jersey, with the matching hat and a pair of custom made Jordan’s that perfectly color coordinated with his outfit. John wasn’t the sexiest guy in the world, but he was cute. What drew me to him wasn’t his looks, but the way he was always that listening ear and shoulder to cry on. The fact that he kept his dreads neatly twisted, his facial hair trimmed, and looked like money whenever he left the house, did boost his looks a bit. Our relationship was the real definition of beauty and the beast.

  “Rock this bae,” he said, tossing me a bag. Inside was a Miami Dolphins jersey dress and the same pair of shoes he had on his feet, except mine were a size seven. Pulling the dress out, I slipped it over my body. I was shocked at how perfectly the dress hugged my curves. John was very insecure, so he hated when I wore anything short or tight.

  Admiring my body, he smacked me on the ass, then watched as I did my hair and makeup. When I was all done, we walked hand in hand to his Bentley Coupe. John had the top down in his car with Young Buck’s, “Shawty Wanna Ride With Me”, booming through his speakers. We both rapped the lyrics to the song as we shared a blunt filled with Mango Kush. Moments like these is what reminded me of why I gave John my heart.

  ****

  “Aimesha, wait up,” Alex said, running to catch up with me.

  “What’s up?” I said, turning around and facing the most beautiful guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Alex was the total package; he was smart, athletic, and handsome. When I looked at Alex and his muscul
ar football frame, he reminded me of Arian Foster, the running back for the Houston Texans. His dreamy hazel eyes threatened to capture my soul, making me look down.

  “Why are you always in a rush?” he asked, using his forefinger to lift my head up by my chin.

  “I don’t like to keep my boyfriend waiting,” I said, shifting all of my weight to my right foot. The way he was staring intensely at me had me feeling nervous.

  “You still with that little boy? When you going to stop playing and be with a real man? You know I’m getting drafted next month and I’m trying to have your fine ass on my arm when I go pro,” he smiled that sexy smile that had my panties wet.

  “Come on, Alex. You can have any girl on campus, why settle for a freshman like me?” I asked.

  “Feel this,” he said, placing my hand on his heart. “You’re the only one that has the ability to make my heart skip a beat,” he laid it on thick, causing me to blush.

  “Stop Alex, you don’t even know me. The most we’ve said to each other was ‘hi’ and ‘bye’. This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight, because I do. You’re so wrapped up in Mr. Wrong that you can’t notice your future husband standing before your eyes.”

  Loud music caused both of us to look up. When I saw John, I nearly pissed in my pants. I didn’t know how much of the exchange between me and Alex he saw, but it was my best bet to get away, and fast.

  “I gotta go,” I said, sprinting towards John’s car.

  Even though I owned three cars, I was never allowed to drive to school. John noticed how the guys looked at me and made it his business to drop me off and pick me up. I wasn’t even able to enjoy my freshmen year with none of my friends because of how possessive he was. It was as if he knew I could do better than him, so he kept me on a tight leash.

  The moment I closed the door, I was met with a swift slap to my face. The blow caused my head to snap back and hit the window, hard. The tears formed and stung my eyes, but I knew better than to let them fall. I just sat back and thought of a peaceful place as I braced myself for the next hit.