41. Beast
Chapter Forty-One
BEAST
I let my mom knock on the door as the rest of us stood back.
I got super anxious to see the look on Michael’s face.
I wasn’t here to baby that nigga. I only brought my mom, so she could do the baby shit with him.
Once he opened this door, my size eleven foot was going up his ass.
I was gon’ politely ask my mom to make her way to the car and wait for us to carry his ass out so he could check in the rehab facility I found him in West Hollywood.
She knocked a couple more times, and we stood there for two minutes, too long for me.
I stepped up to the door and turned the door handle, and not even to my surprise, the shit opened right up.
Michael really was on some strong-ass drugs.
It couldn’t be just cocaine. A lot of niggas that I did business with were high-functioning crackheads and never let the shit get in the way of them making money.
Michael was on some heavy shit to be living like this.
We were not even raised like this. Michael’s spoiled ass was used to luxury, so I knew he couldn’t be content in this shithole, which is why he felt desperate to rob our mom.
A strong ass odor hit me before it hit anyone, and my stomach tightened.
The smell was familiar. Besides the piss and the smell of cigarettes, I smelled death before we even stepped in all the way.
I’d been around plenty of dead people to know the familiar stench, and something hit me that Michael had probably robbed and killed someone and was probably too high to get rid of the body. I hoped like hell that was what it was.
Once we entered the front room, there was condoms, bottles of liquor, and all type of bullshit lying around that we had to step over.
The worn couch had stains on it, but besides that, I spotted an MCM backpack that my mom walked up to that had money spilling out onto the couch area.
Turning to Brick and Dion, they had their guns out.
I nodded my head towards the door, and they took their position on guard.
My gut was telling me something was wrong.
I was about to find something I didn’t want to find.
That tight feeling in my stomach just wouldn’t subside.
I didn’t have to say anything. I walked away from my mom, counting the money.
I walked on the fucked up stained carpet until I reached a room.
The door was almost off the hinges, so it hung open slightly.
Opening it up all the way, I laid eyes on Michael, a white chick and a nigga who looked to be twenty.
Michael was in the middle with his eyes wide open, a needle still stuck in his arms. The white chick and the nigga had needles of their own still stuck in their arms as well.
The only difference was their eyes were closed, but white foam was dried up all-around their lips.
I stood there and couldn’t move; flashbacks of me showing Michael how to tie his shoes and all the times I gave a helping hand came to mind.
I remember when he had nightmares, and even though I battled my own with the voices and everything else, I pushed my shit to the side to tend to him. “My baby brother!” Praise cried. I felt my heart pounding and breaking at the same time.
I tried my hardest to never really show Michael my imperfections.
I didn’t want him weighed down with my burdens.
All I ever wanted to do was be the best big brother I could be to him, even though, at times, that was hard as fuck.
Before I knew it, I dropped down to my knees.
I could feel the pain from my knee replacement and the way I hit the ground.
I ignored the pain because the pain in my chest and heart hurt worse.
My baby brother lay with his eyes wide-open, dead.
It was unreal. It felt better saying I was gon’ kill him.
Saying that shit only made me feel better from all the pain he cost me by betraying me.
Now, it was reality, and it felt like I spoke that shit to life.
Like females always hollering about manifestation, I hope I didn’t speak on killing him that much that it really happened.
"Ohhhh NOOOO!" my mom screamed loud, shattering my heart even more.
"Praise, save my baby! Call an ambulance! Michael! Michael, get up, baby! Praise and I are about to take you to get some help.”
My shoulders dropped as I watched my mom in a daze.
She walked towards the bed and covered Michael's body with the thick cover. She tried to move the bodies, but they were too heavy. Crawling over them, I couldn’t find my voice to tell her to stop.
I was always the strongest out of all of us, and right now, I just couldn't find my strength.
I watched my mom as she tried to do CPR.
She ignored the needle that was still stuck in his arm.
"He got a hold of some bad dope. I got a baggie of that shit, even though we never served heroin. I got a homie that used to serve that shit. I can look at this shit and tell it was laced with some other shit,” Stone spoke low.
I kept my eyes fixed on my mom, she desperately repeated CPR on Michael, but I knew it was useless.
He was gone. His eyes already started to cloud up.
Standing to my feet, I wiped the tears that didn’t fall from my eye sockets and told Stone to call the police to get the coroners here.
Each step I made towards my mom and the bodies that lay before me was hard.
“Ma,” I spoke with a lump of pain in my throat that I forced to swallow down.
Each time I laid eyes on Michael, the flashbacks of when we were kids kept coming to mind.
It felt like a thousand voices were speaking to me at once.
I couldn’t get them to tone it down, and my heart started to do some funny shit.
I had to will myself not to have a panic attack because I had to be strong for my mom.
Praise kept saying that to me. I somehow closed my eyes and let him take over, something I hadn’t done in a while because I was trying to merge us as one.