Page 41 of Quasim: King Inferno

After he released my head, he had the nerve to chuckle and make some joke before leaving to go out with the other Vipers.

I leaned on that counter gasping for air while trying not to pass out, and he went out and didn’t care what happened to me.

“I’m done, Tyshawn… done.”

I snatched more clothes, even some of the baby clothes that I had bought. At six months pregnant, I should have been more prepared, and I wasn’t. We didn’t even have a crib, stroller, or a bottle.

He hovered in the doorway as he tried to concentrate on me grabbing things and tossing them into the bag. “Where the fuck you think you gonna go? You gonna live with your moms? See where the fuck she’s at.”

He poked fun at the fact that my mother was dead. “I’m going to Augusta Mae’s house… where I should have gone the first time I saw the shit you were doing. You are a junkie.” I shoved past him, not bothering to pack anything else.

I was resilient and would get everything that I lost while fucking with him. He would see me thrive and wish he could be a part of me and my son’s life. I’d prove to him that I could do this without him and wouldn’t need his help.

Shoving past him, l headed to the front and slipped my feet into my sneakers. I had a doctor’s appointment earlier in the day that he had missed – again.

“That old bitch ain’t never liked me and you keep going to her. Why the fuck would you want to still talk to someone who doesn’t like your man?”

I turned the oven with the chicken I was making off and snatched up my phone and keys. “She was right about you. Always said something wasn’t right with you and I should have believed her.”

“Bitch, you think you taking my car when you talking big shit. Walk to that bitch house, then.” He snarled, wiping his nose and trying to regain his balance.

“I have enough money to take the bus back to the city, that isn’t a problem. Keep the car and the apartment, Tyshawn. You think you have control over me, but you need to get control over your habit, you fucking junkie… just like your father, but you hate him so bad. You won’t turn this baby into the monster that you and your father are.”

I slammed the door and headed down the hallway. He opened the door, staggering behind me, fueling mad because he hated whenever I mentioned his father.

He hated his father.

Hated that he had to pass him laid out on the curb, high, every time he went to the hood. When he was a child, he hated how they would make fun of him because his father was the hood’s crackhead.

Funny how he turned out just like him. My baby boy did jumps in my stomach, showing me that I could do this, and my decision was good.

“You started talking real crazy since I put that little nigga inside of you. All these plans you ain’t never had before. Now you going to do your big one and be this supermom, huh?”

I pushed my bag onto my arm and grabbed the handle of the stairs, ignoring him. Showing him would prove to him that I could do this without him. “Fuck you, Tyshawn. I gave upeverything to love you. All you’ve done is hurt me… continue to hurt me, when I begged you to love me… goodbye.”

I took the first step down the steps and felt his hand around my neck yanking me back. “If this baby got you behaving different, then you need to go ahead and get rid of it like I first told you.”

With those words, he shoved me down the flight of stairs. I fell, the impact moving from my back, to my stomach as I tumbled, the pain in my body settling in until my vision blurred, and everything turned black. Last thing I saw was Tyshawn standing at the top of the stairs with this menacing look.

My boy stopped kicking…

Blair

Recommendation: Listen to ‘What Are We Gonna Do’ by Dru Hill

I jumpedout of my sleep in a cold sweat, holding my chest and looking around my bedroom. The TV illuminated the room as I stared at the midnight news reporting on why dogs extend their owner’s lives.

My chest felt tight as the memories swarmed through my head. I pulled the blanket from my body and walked into the kitchen to grab me something to drink. I usually kept water near the bed, but after the nightmare I had, I needed to stretch my legs.

With my phone in my hand, I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a huge glass of water while leaning on the counter. My chest was still tight from thinking about my son, and how he entered the world.

I refused to ever acknowledge that I had given birth because that wasn’t a birth worth celebrating. That wasn’t the samebirth that I had witnessed with my clients. If anything, it was medicated torture that I experienced, and I would never say that I had given birth.

My baby was snatched from me, and I never got the chance. A chance to have him in this world with me. He was gone before I made it to the hospital, and that was something I had to live with.

My phone chimed and I looked down at the screen and saw Quasim’s name.

Quasimmy: You sleep, Angel?