Ghana (BLP MC #7)

Chapter 1 Ghana Abara

The Past

“Wha’ are ya sayin’ ta me?” Ashanti, my mother, asked my therapist as we sat in his office.

I hated coming here.

Ashanti was going to make me come every week to see what was wrong with me because I crashed out two days ago.

Normally, I would only fuck up the house, but this time, she got in the way of my rage, and I ended up striking her.

I felt fucked up after, but she made it clear that she didn’t want my apology or to be anywhere near me.

I blacked out because my ugly-ass daddy had just moved in, without my mom asking us if it was okay. I politely told her that I didn’t want him there. She ignored me and told me it wasn’t about what I wanted; it was about her happiness and her need for help.

When I came to, the house was trashed, and Kenzi was crouched in the corner, crying.

Seeing her like that made me realize that maybe something was wrong with me.

I hated to see my sister cry or fear me. She was the only person in this world I felt truly gave a fuck about me.

So here we were.

“I’m saying that Ghana has what we call impulsive behavior and bipolar disorder.

It’s a disorder that causes him to act out without consequences, driven by immediate desires and urges.

Sometimes, it could be emotional outbursts and spontaneous purchases, but in Ghana’s case, it’s reckless and dangerous actions. ”

“Whaddya s’pose I do wit’ dat information?” Ashanti’s thick accent filled the small office with a hint of fear and uncertainty. If she only knew her actions were why I reacted the way I did.

I was about to be eighteen next week, and she still treated me like a five-year-old. She kept me caged in the house, as if I were some wild animal, and was trying to move her good-for-nothing baby daddy into our home.

I may not have the right to say who she brought into our home, but that nigga didn’t give a fuck about Kenz or me. He ignored me most of the time, and Ashanti acted as if she didn’t see the shit.

The blindfold she wore proudly was what triggered me. She loved that bum more than she loved her own kids.

“I would suggest medication to help him regulate his behaviors.”

“I ain’t taking no medicine,” I told him, finally speaking.

“De medicin’ will help ya, Ghana.”

“Ain’t shit wrong with me,” I denied. “You the problem. Not me.”

She sighed heavily and shook her head. “I dunno wha’ else ya wan’ me ta do. Ya act out an’ tink it’s normal. Ya scare ya sista. If ya care ’bout ha like ya say ya do, ya get de help ya need.”

I looked off. My attention went to all the fancy degrees lining Doctor Ventura’s office. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to take no damn medicine, but I also didn’t want to keep scaring my sister.

I sighed deeply and crossed my arms across my chest. “Give me the stupid medicine, man.”

I could hear Ashanti sigh in relief and had to tighten my arms around myself to refuse the urge to knock her ass out of her seat.

She hated me.

I knew she did.

I also knew she used my love for my sister against me.

“We’re going to start you off with a mild dosage of methylphenidate. It’ll help regulate your mood and keep you focused. I know this is hard, Ghana, but if you want to be better, the medicine will help you with that,” Doctor Ventura said.

I didn’t say shit else as he wrote something on a paper, then handed it to Ashanti.

We left his office and went straight to the pharmacy. I stayed in the car, my hoodie pulled low, and took out my phone to text Kenzi.

Me:

I hate yo’ mama, bro.

She texted back immediately.

Kenz:

What happened now?

Me:

She got that dumb ass doctor to put me on medication.

Kenz:

What’s wrong with that, Ghana? Maybe it will help with your mood.

Me:

So, you’re against me, too?

Kenz:

Never against you, brother. I love you and just don’t want you to black out again. It’s not something I’m particularly fond of.

Me:

I’ll never hurt you, Sis. You know that . . . right?

Kenz:

I know. I just don’t want you hurting anyone else.

I didn’t reply as I stared at the screen before blacking it out.

Kenzi didn’t have to say it, but I knew she was afraid of me.

I knew right then I had to get my shit together, or I was afraid I would black out one day and hurt her, and not purposely.

I couldn’t risk hurting the only person who gave a fuck about me.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you,” I heard Kenzi chanting as I opened my eyes to see her walking into my room with a single cupcake and a candle burning inside.

I sat up, wiped the sleep from my eyes, and smiled, even though I didn’t have shit to be happy about.

“Thanks, Sis.”

“Make a wish,” she urged, pushing the cupcake toward me. I closed my eyes and wished that I wasn’t fucked up in the head, then blew out the candle. “Eww, your breath stinks.” She giggled. I took the cupcake, pretending I was about to eat it, then smashed it in her face and laughed.

She stood in shock, then wiped some of the icing off her cheek and smeared it on my face.

“Big head! See if I bake you anything else!”

I side-eyed her and laughed. “If you baked that, then I know hell has frozen over.”

She laughed. “Shut up.”

“Yo’ mama here?”

“No, but she left you two envelopes.”

I scoffed. “Where is it?”

“On the table. What you got planned for today?”

I shrugged. “If your mama lets me outside, I’ll probably go hang out with Darius.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to hang out with you today. I’m on break from school, so I figured we’d go to the arcade today.”

Kenz was sixteen and still in high school, so I knew she wanted to get out and do something because she was on spring break.

“That’s cool. We can do that.”

She smiled. “Cool. Let me wash this crap off my face.” She headed toward the door. “And make sure you hit that mouth. Your breath kicking like Liu Kane, bruh.” She laughed as I tossed a pillow at her, and she ran out of the room.

I got out of bed and went to my adjoining bathroom.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and then got in the shower.

Since graduating high school, it seemed like Ashanti was hell-bent on keeping me in the house.

Not today, though. I was eighteen now, so her days of stopping me from leaving this house were over.

Once I was dressed, I went downstairs and saw the two envelopes sitting on the dining room table. I picked up the first one. It was thick and had my name on it.

When I opened it, it was filled with cash. My eyes ballooned at the stacks inside. I scanned the bills, mentally counting out about four thousand dollars. As an eighteen-year-old, that was a lot of money.

Where the hell she get all this from? Is this some kind of apology for how her ass been treating me all these years?

So many questions ran through my mind, and the answers I sought were within the second envelope.

I picked it up, opened it, and saw it was a note from her.

Ghana,

Tek care of ya sista. De bills have been paid up for a year, after dat, you are responsible for it.

I will not be returnin’ home. You are eighteen now, and I did all I can do fa ya.

It’s time ya tek care of yaself and ya sista.

Dat’s all de money I been savin’ fa ya. Do what ya will wit’ it.

You don’ wan’ Merrick to live wit’ us, den ya can live alone.

I left ya sista because I know ya would have a fit wit’out ha. Tek care of yaself Ghana.

-Mum

Each word jumped off the paper, slapping me in my face like a ton of bricks.

There was no way she did this shit to us—to me.

Just when I needed her the most, she did this shit.

Apparently, the meds I’d been taking were no match for the rage I felt.

I could feel my heart rate increasing, and before I could stop myself, I flipped the table over and kicked it across the room.

I had no idea how long I had blacked out, but when I came to, Kenzi stood against the wall with tears rolling down her cheeks, and the table had no wins. I closed my eyes tightly, dropped to my haunches, and wept.

Fuck! I spazzed again.

I wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt anyone, but Ashanti brought about this burning rage inside of me that I couldn’t control each time she did some fuck shit to me.

She didn’t give a fuck about us. She ran off with that nigga and left me to take care of my sixteen-year-old sister.

My rage was warranted.

I felt Kenzi’s presence approaching me cautiously and looked up at her with regret.

“I’m sorry,” I said, voice coming out like a small child. Kenzi rushed me and wrapped her arms around me. I held her back, realizing that we were now on our own, and I had to do everything I could to make sure she stayed cared for and protected.