13. Mental Fight
Mental Fight
Islah had me fucked up! How dare she tell me that she didn’t want me after all the fuckin’ effort I was putting in.
I’ve been on the block day and fucking night to take her shopping and to make sure she had all that she wanted and needed, and she is still trying to tell me that I am not enough, and then on top of that, I have that bitch ass nigga Love calling my phone.
I am tired of all this shit.
She needs to let that nigga go!
I need her to let that nigga go so we can move on with our lives. I don’t give a fuck what I told her. I was never gonna let her leave.
She’s better off killing me before I ever let her live without me.
I paced my room with my Glock in my hand. I wanted to stand in the hallway and let rounds go at her door, but I knew that shit would hurt me more than anything else in the world.
I left her in that room for a day or two; listening to her knock and asking to be let go was getting to me a lil’ bit.
I didn’t want her to be crying or sad. I wanted her to be happy with me, starting over the way I should have when I got outta jail. But she continued to fight me.
I would go in there to take her food, and she would try to run out or fight me to leave, making me get outta character.
I left her alone for the day and didn’t take her anything—no food, no water. I didn’t even peek into the room before I left the house, but when I got home, I brought her some Chinese food and some tea.
After I unlocked the door, I knocked before I walked in.
“Hello, Islah,” I said softly. “I brought you some food.”
She took it from me and didn’t say anything to me.
Her eyes and nose were red and swollen from crying, and her hair was all over her head in a way that I had never seen before.
“Have you calmed down enough for us to talk?”
She looked up at me from her containers of food.
“What do we have to talk about, Gio?”
“Maybe the fact that you are not giving us a real chance.”
She looked at me, shaking her head. “You have lost your mind. I thought you got your shit together, but I realized now that all of that was bullshit.”
“I thought you got your shit together,” I responded.
“Gio, there’s no talking to you.”
I exhaled. “Listen, why don’t we go to the beach tonight? Get yourself some fresh air. We could eat dinner out there. It would be like old times.”
“I don’t want old times with you; I want to go home.”
I walked up on her and leaned down in her ear.
“Let the thought of seeing that nigga go, you are home now.”
I walked outta her room, went downstairs, grabbed me a bottle from the bar, and sat down on the couch.
My weed was already on the table waiting for me to roll it up, and I did just that while watching TV.
After the blunt was rolled and lit, I sat back with the bottle in my hand, drinking from it. I was fed up trying to figure out what to do to make Islah happy.
I keep drinking and smoking, then all of a sudden, I saw Islah coming down the steps.
She looked different. She was in a nightgown, her hair and makeup were done, and she had a smile on her face.
“How did you get out of the room?” I asked her.
She walked over to me. “You left the door unlocked.”
Islah stood directly in front of me as I looked up at her.
“Are you good?” I asked.
She laughed. “Yes, baby.”
That caught me off guard.
“Baby?!” I repeated, confused.
She laughed and climbed on my lap.
I was so confused, but a nigga loved it. She started kissing my neck, my earlobe, and my lips. She was gripping the back of my head as I wrapped my arms around her.
“I missed you,” I said softly.
She smiled. “I missed you more, baby.”
Without a second thought, I flipped her over on her back and had her looking up at me while I took my shirt off.
“Do you want me?” I asked.
She nodded. “I want all of you, Daddy.”
I pulled my pants down and her panties to the side and slid in her nice and slow, making my eyes roll back in my head.
She was wet, warm, and soft, just like I remembered, and I missed all of it.
I gave her long, deep strokes, making her moan softly and call out my name as she did.
“This is your pussy, baby,” she said between moans.
I smiled. “I thought you would come around.”
She smiled at me and placed her hand on the back of my neck, pulling me down closer to her and kissing me while she locked me inside her by wrapping her legs around my waist.
“Don’t leave me again,” I said, pulling away from her.
She nodded. “Never, baby, never again.”
I flipped her over and started hitting her from the back. She was gripping the arm of the couch, telling me to go deeper and not to stop.
She never had to worry about that. I needed all of her.
I beat that pussy like I missed it, like I needed it, like it was mine, because it was.
And she took all of it like the good girl she was.
I pulled her by her hair and had my left knee on the couch and my right leg on the floor, going balls deep in her when I felt something wet on my feet.
I looked down while still stroking and didn’t see shit, but then I was hearing it.
“Do you hear that shit?” I asked Islah, but she didn’t respond. I pulled her head back to look at her face, and when I did, her face wasn’t there.
I jumped back, and my eyes opened.
I looked around. Islah wasn’t beside me, and the wet shit I was feeling was my bottle spilling on the floor.
I got up, shaking my head, and went to the kitchen to clean up before I went upstairs to check on her.
Before I opened her door, I checked the lock and saw it was still on, and that shit kind of made me mad. I peeked into the room, and she was asleep.
I closed the door softly, walked to my room, and sat on the edge of the bed, shaking my head because that dream felt too real.
If that dream showed me anything, it was that deep down, Islah still loved me—still wanted me, and all I had to do was pull it out of her.
And I was gonna do that sooner rather than later cause I needed her in more ways than one.