Chapter 6
I rummaged through drawers and closets. I looked for loose floorboards or hollow walls. I was getting the fuck away from Damien Jamel Murphy, even if I had to die trying.
The way he just lied to his brother with a straight face made me wish I had spit in his orange juice.
I know Truce didn’t know that his brother had taken me away from my family, but I couldn’t help the sadness that washed over me every time they were mentioned.
I missed them so damn much; the pain was equivalent to giving birth to Scottlyn.
I knew that bastard kept some cash around the house, but the house was so big that he could have been hiding it anywhere.
He was already putting Scottie and me in danger by being in the streets.
Every day, I feared the police coming and breaking down the door, or a rival gang coming and killing us all.
On top of his abusive ways, I had to deal with the many bitches calling my phone, sending me photos, and trying to check me about keeping my man away from them.
Like, the fuck?
I didn’t deserve to be treated like this.
If he didn’t want me, he could simply let me go.
But that sounded too much like right for Damien.
It was the thrill of control he had over me that kept him being the abuser he was.
He knew I was helpless, so he played that to his advantage.
But I was leaving this fucking house, and I was going to use Truce to do it.
I didn’t know if I could trust him yet, so I was going to befriend him to feel him out.
I knew he was attracted to me, but that meant nothing if all he wanted to do was fuck and not help me.
Somehow, I felt that wasn't all he wanted from me, though.
His aura seemed genuine, so I was going to put my plan into action starting today.
After coming up empty in our bedroom, I gave up and started to get dressed. I honestly didn’t want to meet with the planner because all of this shit was about to come to an end. It was only a matter of time.
After getting dressed and removing the rollers from my hair, I brushed Scottlyn’s hair into two ponytails and put pretty bows on them.
I put on her snow suit, packed her bag, grabbed my purse and Scottlyn off the bed, and headed downstairs.
Truce was sitting on the couch in a black peacoat with his hair pulled up in a man bun, looking even more fucking enticing.
Jesus wept.
I shook off my crazy thoughts and walked into the living room, placing Scottlyn in her car seat and strapping her in.
“Damn, you women take a thousand years to get ready.”
I tossed my hand on my hip and pointed at Scottlyn. “As if I don’t have another human to groom and dress.”
He chuckled and tossed his hands up. “Touché.”
I went inside the front closet to retrieve my caramel red bottom riding boots and leather caramel jacket with fur.
As I moved around the room, double-checking everything to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind, I could feel Truce’s eyes on me.
I had to ignore him. Those light brown irises surrounded by long, curly lashes and thick eyebrows were making it hard not to watch him watch me.
“Okay, we’re ready,” I said in a huff.
Truce stood, picked up the baby, and tossed her bag over his shoulder.
I grabbed my purse, and we stepped out into the winter's chill of November. It had snowed last week, so the ground was covered in white sheets of it. Looking at the snow made me think of the holidays I had as a child. Christmas would be the second holiday I’d spend without my family.
I didn’t want to dwell on that, so I pushed it to the back of my mind as we loaded up in the car and headed to their mom’s house.
We pulled up to Royal Destiny thirty minutes later, and I wanted to tell Truce to pull off.
Why was I doing this? This wasn’t some fairytale.
I wasn’t in love with him anymore, and I knew he didn’t feel the same about me.
I took my phone out of my purse and dialed Damien’s number.
It rang out to voicemail, and I dialed the number again.
This time, he picked up, and before he could even speak, I spoke up.
“Damien, where are you?” I hissed through my teeth.
Girlish giggles serenaded the other end of the receiver, and I felt myself about to explode. “Hello?”
“Who the fuck is this?” I asked.
“Oh, heyyy, sister-wife. Dame’s busy at the moment, but I’ll let him know you called.”
“Which bitch is this? Tasia, Whitney, Kelly, or Brittany?”
“Damn, pooh! You know us all, huh?” She laughed. “But this is Brittany, of course. The first main bitch.”
I bit my lip trying not to let this woman rile me up.
She didn’t have to confirm what I already knew, but just hearing her answering his phone and talking recklessly made me want to tear some shit up.
I gave this man years of my life. I gave him a baby, treated him like he walked on water, only for him to do this shit to me.
The physical abuse was disgusting enough, but the mental abuse was just as unbearable.
If this wasn't my final cue to get the fuck on, I didn’t know what else I needed to hear or see to push me to move on.
“You got that.” I hung up. “Please get me the fuck away from here,” I told Truce as I tried to calm my breathing.
He didn’t protest or say another word as he pulled away from the curb.
I tried desperately not to let my tears fall, but they betrayed me anyway.
The only sound that could be heard was my sniffling and the low volume of the music.
I looked over at Truce, and his face held a scowl while he focused on the road.
He lifted the center console, handing me some Kleenex.
“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my tears.
“You don’t have shit to be sorry for.”
“I do. You just got home, and already, we’re stressing you out. You can just take me back to the house. I’ll figure out how to get Scottlyn from your mom and try to plan my next move.”
“How about we go somewhere and have some fun? You look like you could use it.”
“Fun?” I scoffed. “What's that? I don’t even remember how to have fun.”
“Then let me remind you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“When’s the last time you've been out of the house to hang out?”
“A few months ago, for a business meeting Damien had.”
“And before that?” I shook my head.
For almost a year, I had only been to a dinner meeting with Damien’s connect and his wife.
Aside from going to the grocery store or department stores, I never left the house.
My main reason for being a hermit was that Damien had basically locked me in, but I was also so depressed that I never wanted to go anywhere.
I knew it wasn't healthy, but neither was my relationship with that lying, cheating, narcissistic, abusing bastard.
“Then it’s settled. We’re about to have some fun.”
“I don’t think that's a good idea.”
“Why? You want to go back to that house and wallow in misery? Word of advice, Miss Jela. A nigga is only going to do what you allow him to.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d expect that coming from you. You look like you like to break hearts too.”
“Another word of advice: Don’t judge a nigga by his looks.”
“I think I know better than that now.”
“Good. So, you down or what?”
I fiddled with the strap on my Birkin as I thought about it.
I was tired of being in that depressing castle with that fire-breathing dragon.
I never got the chance to actually explore Muskegon because I didn’t know anyone here.
Now that I had an opportunity to do so, I was going to take it. Fuck Damien.
“Yeah… I guess so.”
“Cool. Let me show you around and show you a good time.”
We arrived at a place called Go-Time. When we walked inside, it looked like an adult arcade and bar.
The neon lighting and vibe were something I’d never seen before.
Truce walked up to the counter, paid for our wristbands, took the map they gave him, and then took me by the hand.
There was laser tag, a wax museum, a tennis court, a volleyball area, virtual rooms, an escape room, a haunted train ride, and even a freaking mini-amusement park.
I couldn't see what was beyond the other side of the wall, but it looked to be a bar and lounge of some sort.
Seeing people coming out with drinks in their hands and smiling made me feel normal.
I had never seen anything like this place, and thoughts of my grimy fiancé and his infidelity slowly began to dissipate.
“What do you want to do first?” Truce asked.
“Um… I want to go to the wax museum first.”
“A’ight, let’s roll.” He grabbed my hand again, leading me toward the entrance of the museum. “I’m going to let you know right now that we’re doing everything. I hope you're not afraid of heights.”
“I’m not.”
He smiled at me. “Good.”
We flashed our wristbands to the attendant standing near the entrance and gained entry.
The first wax figure I saw was the infamous Michael Jackson from his music video “Thriller.” The more we walked around, the more excited I became.
It felt nice to get out and do something for a change, and I was glad that Truce had invited me.
“Just so I won’t forget, I want to say thank you in advance. I appreciate you for this.”
“It’s nothing. Anything to make you smile.” He smirked and winked at me as we continued browsing the museum.