Chapter 4 #2
My pulse thudded so loudly it felt like a drumbeat resonating through my entire body.
I shook uncontrollably and my muscles tensed in fear as another tic surged through my shoulder, making it jerk abruptly.
I was so nervous, I truly thought I might die right there—from the panic, not a gun.
And for a moment, that felt easier than what could happen if I did go down.
But just in case I didn’t pass out or seize up completely…
I had to move. I had to be smart. I had to comply.
One step, then another.
My breath came in shallow bursts, each one tighter than the last. My hands clutched the railing like it was the only thing keeping me from collapsing straight through the floor.
As soon as I reached the halfway point, they saw me.
“ Ah, shit! It’s a female, nigga! ” Chi announced, voice a mixture of disbelief and shock.
Gatez, however, remained stoic. He didn’t flinch at the sight of me.
With the casual confidence of someone unfazed by the chaos around him, he slid his gun back beneath his jacket, exuding an air of control that suggested he had been in similar situations before—or not.
Then, with deliberate slowness, he strolled toward the bottom of the staircase, his hands casually tucked into his pockets with the ease of a man who didn’t panic—because maybe he never had to.
“Well… now this just got complicated,” Gatez said, his voice calmer.
I attempted to respond, but an incoherent bark escaped my throat instead.
“Don’t touch me, fish fry forehead!” I yelled, loud and sharp, like the words had a mind of their own.
My hands slapped at the air, swatting away something invisible and my foot stomped once, twice, hard enough to echo.
“What the hell?!” Chi yelped, jumping back like I’d grown horns.
My head jerked to the side, and I hissed through my teeth—another tic.
“I said, back up , church shoes!” I snapped at no one in particular, eyes wide, chest heaving.
“There’s another twitch!” Chi yelled like he was keeping score.
My eyes darted around the room, wild and frantic, trying to find an escape.
I hated this. I hated all of it.
“Bro, how the hell are you so calm right now?” Chi asked Gatez. “She just called one of us a fish fry forehead and cursed out somebody’s orthopedic shoes!”
Gatez ignored him.
Unbeknownst to them, the panic made it worse. The more Chi talked and the more they stared, the more my body revolted.
“Shit! Goddammit, microwave brains! Peach cobbler! Why is everyone made of lizards?!” I screamed, my arms twitching like my body was trying to throw a tantrum without my permission.
Chi blinked. “Damn. You hungry or high?”
I clutched the wall to steady myself. “Shit! Shit! Shit! No, no, no—stop looking at me like that!”
A strangled sound came from my throat, somewhere between a growl and a sob.
“Oh hell nah! You on your own, bro! That girl is possessed!”
Gatez shot Chi a sharp look, silently warning him to tread lightly.
“Come down. I just want to talk.”
Something in the guy Gatez’s voice settled the air—and weirdly, settled me… just a little. My feet moved before my mind agreed. Each step down was slow and shaky, like my legs were deciding whether to run or surrender.
I twitched once… then again. My shoulder jerked like it got shocked.
“D-don’t—don’t hurt me! Please! I didn’t see—fuck—squirrel-dick—damn it!”
“You heard her! She said don’t touch her, and I believe her soul meant that too!”
“Chi,” Gatez warned, his voice low, cold, and unmoved. “Shut up before I shut you up.”
Chi immediately threw his hands up. “Aight.” Then mimed zipping his lips.
In that moment, I could see it clearly: Chi was the constant jokester who tried to diffuse serious situations with humor, even when they were on the brink of turning dangerous. Gatez was something else entirely.
The quiet authority. The storm dressed in silence. The one whose word was law, whether it was spoken gently or not at all.
And now, standing face-to-face with him, every part of me screamed not to look up.
It felt as if I even dared to meet his eyes, it would trigger something I couldn’t come back from.
I kept my eyes on the floor, chest rising in quick, shallow breaths.
My knees wobbled like they were seconds from giving out completely.
“How long you been standing there?” His voice didn’t waver.
“N-N-N-N-Not long!”
My right hand jerked suddenly, twitching at the wrist before I yanked it back to my side like I’d just been caught stealing. I clenched my hands to still it, willing my body to just be still for once.
Gatez just stared—watching, calculating, like every second I stood there was part of some silent equation he was solving.
I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole and vanish before he decided I’d seen too much, said too little, or stood too long. But instead, I stood there—trembling, twitching, and silently praying I’d live long enough to make at least one more pot of tea.
Chi raised both hands like the conversation was a crime scene he didn’t wanna be caught near.
“You know what? I done been cussed out, side-eyed, and seen more twitching than a broken TV remote. I’m finna go pack up them speakers and mind my damn business before I end up glitched into silence too.”
So he’s a killer and a thief, I wanted to say.
“Yeah, you do that,” Gatez replied, his voice steady but his eyes still fixed on me, as if weighing the severity of my distress.
Chi shuffled off toward the small stage like a kid who’d been sent to his room.
“Look at me,” Gatez ordered, calm—too calm.
My head snapped up instantly, like my body responded before my fear had a chance to interfere.
Gatez didn’t speak immediately; he just watched me intently—the way a lion watches a deer after it stumbles into the wrong clearing and decides whether to feast now or toy with it first. His silence was heavier than words, every second stretching like a blade against my throat.
“You saw too much. You caught a glimpse of a world that wasn’t meant for your eyes.
Not just the act, but the faces, the method, the way I move when no one’s supposed to be watching.
That puts you in a category I usually eliminate .
The fact is… you were at the wrong place, at the wrong time, but yet here you stand, unharmed.
That’s not luck; that’s a choice… my choice. ”
I felt the weight of his gaze but refused to look away.
“I don’t know if you’re terrified or just paralyzed,” he went on, his eyes narrowing slightly, “but listen closely—what you decide next will determine everything that follows. Not just for you, but for me and what I’ve built.”
Then… my head snapped once to the side. A strained hum slipped out next, high-pitched and panicked.
“Shit—s-sorry,” I whispered, hand clutching the railing to keep from falling to my knees. “I-I didn’t mean to?—”
Gatez took a slow step forward.
“You think sorry is gonna erase what you saw? You think just because you stutter and twitch, I’m gonna pat you on the head and pretend like this nigga ain’t dead behind me and you didn’t witness that shit?
I don’t give passes, sweetheart. Not for pretty faces.
Not for panic. Not even for bad nerves.”
Gatez looked me up and down like he was assessing how much of a problem I might be.
“You were upstairs. You watched. That makes you a variable.”
My hands clenched at my sides. I wanted to cry, scream, or beg—but none of it would matter. Because in his world, what I saw wasn’t a mistake; it was a problem that demanded erasing, and I was standing on the wrong side of the moment.
Gatez stepped closer—slow, deliberate—until there was barely a breath of space between us.
His voice dropped, low enough that only I could hear it.
“Now you tell me,” he murmured, “are you gonna be a problem?”
I swallowed hard, too scared to lie, too smart to speak.
Gatez’s gaze was steady, piercing through me like a surgeon’s scalpel, and the calmness on his face belied a storm brewing just beneath the surface.
My fingers twitched at my sides—small movements, subtle enough to go unnoticed, but sharp and electric like a jolt of pain. I clenched my fists tightly, trying to suppress the panic that clawed its way up my spine like a feral animal desperate for escape. But inside, I was unraveling.
I wasn’t merely a witness or a girl with a condition anymore; I was a liability, a wild card in a dangerous game, a question that needed an answer, and a variable in a world where unpredictability was dealt with swiftly and without remorse.
I understood with every fiber of my being: men like Gatez didn’t leave loose ends; they tied them up—clean, quiet, and permanent.
“N-No!” I finally said, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to see anything! I—I just woke up! I wanted tea! Peppermint ! I heard voices, and—I was—I was going back upstairs! I swear! I didn’t want to get involved!”
I tried my best to stay calm, but everything in me was shaking—my hands, my breath, my mind.
“I—I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, eyes wide, throat tightening like it was closing in on itself. “I didn’t even know what I was looking at! I just—I heard Blu’s voice and thought maybe he was… I don’t know—talking to someone about the kitchen or some?—”
An outburst forced its way through, like it didn’t care I was begging for my life.
“ S hit—kitchen knives, banana peel! S-sorry,” I apologized again, almost choking on the word.
“I have Tourette’s,” I divulged. “I—I can’t control what I say!
It makes people uncomfortable! Egg salad for Satan’s picnic!
I don’t like being around crowds or strangers!
I keep to myself! I barely talk! I don’t gossip!
Banana bread booty cheeks at a funeral, shut up, Sharon!
So you don’t have to worry about me saying anything to anyone! I promise!”