42. Praise
Chapter Forty-Two
PRAISE
The tears dripped down my face like a faucet being ran too long.
I looked at my mom on top of Michael and almost lost it.
Beast couldn’t deal with being super emotional, and I almost couldn’t either.
I choked back on the sob I was holding back and reached over the white girl that was naked to grab my mom’s arm.
“You have to get off of him, momma. Come on.” She sobbed louder and harder. Once she made it from on top of Michael, she balled her fist and hit me with all her might.
“Save him, Praise! You save your fucking brother now! He’s still got life in him, got dammit!
Don’t you give up on him now!” she cried out, and my chest swelled up with pain as I looked into her eyes.
“Ain’t shit we can fucking do! Make her sit the fuck down!
” Ignoring Beast, I stepped around my mom and used two fingers to check Michael’s pulse just to prove to her that he was gone.
His skin was cold to the touch, so I knew he was done for.
“He’s gone, momma.” I looked down at the stained carpet and wiped my tears as she slapped me hard in the face.
“She’s blaming us! This is why I made her ass come.
We could’ve walked in on any fuckin thing, and she would’ve still blamed us!
Let’s fuckin go!” Beast didn’t mean shit he was saying; he just didn’t know how to deal with his own feelings towards the situation.
I could feel him hurt because all of me hurt badly from this.
“You wanted my baby dead! This is on you, Praise!” she cried hard as she dropped to her knees. Feeling defeated, I watched Stone console her as I turned on the balls of my feet and walked out of the room.
I walked to Stone’s car and twisted me up a blunt.
Connecting my phone to his AUX cord, I blasted Tupac’s “I Ain’t Mad at Cha” as I smoked and reflected on my life with my little brother.
I tried to cross out all the bad things he did and thought about all the fun times we had, all the big bags of cash we blew through when we would hit one of the many clubs I owned.
I wanted nothing but the best for him. I knew he didn’t have what I had in me to be the ruler of the streets, but I still let him in because, the truth was, I hated seeing that disappointed look on his face when I told him no.
He was a fly young nigga, real flashy, always cared what people thought about him.
His jealousy got in the way of the love he had for me.
That’s when signals got crossed, and he stabbed me in the back.
His death made all the wrong shit he’d ever done to me not valid anymore.
I didn’t want him around me, but I still wanted him alive.
It probably was twisted, but that’s just how I felt.
I sat in the car for two hours in my feelings.
I watched Stone step outside as he held my mom up, trying his best to help balance her as the coroners walked out with three body bags.
The last one had to be Michael. She fought the police and all the men around her to try to unzip the black bag and grab onto Michael, causing him to fall to the ground off the gurney.
I wanted to step out of the car and help them, but I didn’t fuck with the pigs.
My mom wasn’t in her right state of mind, and her yelling and saying shit like it was my fault could’ve made me a suspect.
It took everything in me to stay put; her screams and cries moved me.
I knew right then and there, looking at my mother, that without Michael here, shit would never be the same.
I still kept some sort of faith and said a prayer for my mom’s strength and mine.