Chapter 18
My breath came in rapid bursts as I charged up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Each step echoed like thunder in my ears. Yet nothing broke the silence behind me, and somehow that made my nerves worse.
“Giani!” I called, each shout tinged with a growing desperation. “Open the fucking door!”
Every second it stayed closed, my nerves fired off harder.
“Hurry up,” I hissed, pacing in front of the door before beating on it again. “Please hurry the fuck up.”
I glanced over my shoulder as a vehicle crept into view.
Its tires crunched over gravel as I pressed myself flat against the wall beside Giani’s window, heart hammering in my chest. When it was out of sight, I turned back toward her door, and a few moments later, the locks finally started clicking from the other side.
The door swung open, and the moment Giani saw me, her brow furrowed. Confusion flashed across her face, but fear was right behind it.
“Koko? What’s happening?”
I rushed inside so quickly I nearly slammed into her.
“Lock the door,” I breathed, glancing back. “Please, lock the fucking door.
Giani shut the door in a flurry, hurriedly securing the locks as I pressed my back against the wall, my heart pounding in my ears. My hands were clammy around the grip of my gun, the cold metal grounding me in the chaos swirling in my mind.
“What’s wrong, Koko?”
She rushed around me and went straight for the blinds. Her brow furrowed as her eyes swept across the parking lot, her movements growing more frantic with each second.
“Why do you look like you saw a ghost?”
I dropped my head into my hands and paced across the living room, my heart still racing as my mind flipped through everything I’d learned about my life up to this point.
“Talk to me, friend.” Giani stepped closer, her hands raised cautiously as her eyes searched mine for answers. “What happened?”
I swallowed hard and sank onto the couch, rubbing the barrel of my gun against my forehead as I thought things through.
“A lot, and I don’t know if I like the person I used to be.”
“What do you mean?” Giani pressed, concern etching lines across her forehead.
I let out a shaky laugh, the sound small and brittle. “I mean, I’m starting to understand why people want me dead.”
Giani’s face tightened, but she remained silent, her gaze unwavering.
I rubbed my hand over my mouth, diverting my eyes to the floor as I felt the weight of the moment. “I remembered something last night. Actually, a few things.” My grip on the gun intensified.
“What all did you remember?” she asked, her tone cautious.
I lifted my eyes, finally meeting her gaze. “Rich.”
“Rich.” She frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. “That name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Remember the night in my apartments when someone tried to run me over?” I studied her closely, searching for signs of recognition.
“Yeah. How could I forget?” she replied, but her tone remained careful.
I shook my head slowly. “It was him. He’s also the same person who threatened me the day I remembered when I met Booda.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re this scared. Was he after you just now?” Giani stepped back to the window, glancing out as if looking for a threat.
“No. I remembered what I did to him. That’s what scared me.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice, as if the walls could hear me. “Or at least part of it.”
Giani turned, her curiosity piqued. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t just know Rich,” I continued, forcing my expression to remain steady. “Me and Booda followed him to his home in Dallas, broke in, and tied him up. I remember him bleeding. Him begging. Then I remember pulling the trigger.”
Giani blinked at me, her mouth falling open in disbelief.
“I shot him. More than once. I thought I killed him.” I looked down at the gun resting on my lap. “I left him there to die.”
“Koko…” she whispered, the concern in her voice heightening.
“But he lived.” I laughed again. “That nigga lived, and now he’s hunting me.”
“Are you sure your memory isn’t mixing things up?” she asked quickly, concern blossoming in her eyes. “You’ve been remembering stuff in pieces. Maybe it didn’t happen the way you think.”
“No,” I shook my head, my tone firm. “I know what I saw, and that’s what happened. I’m sure of that.”
The image surged through my mind again—Rich choking on his own blood, his body jerking against the floor, the gun kicking in my hand every time I fired.
“What I couldn’t remember was why I would do something like that.” I went still, my expression hardening into stone. “You wanna know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“I probably still wouldn’t have known had I not been fucking up shit around the city. I had to get him before he got me. I didn’t get a second chance in life only for me to let a muthafucka like Rich take me out.”
“What do you mean you’ve been fucking shit up around the city?”
“Just what I said,” I replied with a smile as I crossed one leg over the other and leaned back against the sofa pillows. “I’ve done a few things.”
“Such as?” Her voice quivered as she asked.
“Such as, the night I left your little celebration, I chased a man on the highway until he crashed. Unfortunately for him, his girlfriend died in the wreck. But… fortunately, he lived. God had to be on my side that night,” I said with a shake of my head.
“Because if not, I wouldn’t have learned the few things I did before I killed him. ”
Giani’s lips parted slightly.
“You killed him?” she whispered, tears clouding her vision.
“I killed a few people,” I corrected calmly. “Or at least I think I did. Some of this shit’s still blurry.”
The color started draining from her face.
I noticed and smiled wider.
“The crazy part is I don’t even feel bad about it,” I admitted, rubbing my thumb along the side of the gun. “That’s what’s been fucking with me the most. I thought remembering my past would make me feel human again, but all it did was remind me that I’ve always been capable of.”
“Koko…” Giani laughed nervously. “Maybe you should calm down before you say too much.”
“Too much?” I tilted my head. “Girl, I haven’t even started.”
She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“I found out Rich wasn’t the only person looking for me either.” My eyes stayed locked on hers. “Everybody connected to that night started surfacing one by one after I grabbed that man from the wreck.”
“What man?”
“The person I told you survived the wreck.” I shrugged. “Your cousin—G5.”
“G5?” she repeated, almost under her breath, as tears spilled down her cheeks.
She looked away from me, but not before I caught the grief written across her face.
“Yeah.”
She swallowed hard, her eyes flicking away from mine for a second.
“And he talked?” she asked carefully.
“Oh, eventually.” I smiled again. “Everybody talks eventually.”
The room fell silent after that, and I slowly looked around the apartment again while Giani sat there trying not to react too hard to anything coming out of my mouth.
That was when my attention shifted away from Giani and landed on the living room around us.
The mirrored coffee table. The cream-colored throw folded neatly across the couch. The glittering rhinestone coasters that sat beneath candles that smelled faintly sweet.
Vanilla.
My brows pulled together, and a strange feeling crept over me as my eyes moved slowly across the apartment again. The soft colors. The glass decor. The oversized wall art.
Something about it felt too familiar.
Then my mind drifted back to the first night I came there.
The bedroom. The piles of clothes tossed across the bed. The heels lined neatly against the wall. The perfume bottles spread across the dresser.
Vanilla again.
“That used to be your favorite.”
I looked down at the bottle in my hand. “For real?”
“Girl, yes,” Giani nodded. “You used to wear vanilla everything.”
I stared down at the bottle for a second longer before setting it back in its place. “Sounds like I had good taste then too,” I joked lightly.
“You definitely did,” Giani replied, tossing another dress onto the bed before finally settling on the black one she’d handed me first.
I remembered the things she’d said to me that night, and my stomach dropped. Then, another memory slammed into me so suddenly it nearly snatched the air from my lungs.
My bedroom in my old house. The mirrored furniture. The cream bedding. My heels lined up against the wall the exact same way. The perfume bottles covering my dresser.
Vanilla.
I slowly looked around Giani’s apartment again, but this time, I wasn’t seeing her in it anymore. I was seeing myself.
My breath caught in my throat as the realization settled over me like ice water. Everything in this apartment, the colors, the aesthetic, the whole damn vibe, was mine.
“Giani,” I said slowly, my voice dripping with ice. “When exactly did you move into this place?”
She blinked, caught off guard by the shift in my tone. “Almost two years ago. Why?”
Right around the time of my accident.
I nodded. “That’s interesting,” I said, standing up from the couch. The gun felt heavier in my hand now. “Because I need to tell you something crazy.”
“I killed Rich.”
Giani visibly started shaking as she asked, “You did?”
“I did.” I giggled. “And do you wanna know what his wife gave me after I decided to let her live?”
“His wife?” Giani’s voice pitched higher, but I caught the tremor beneath it.
“Yes. His wife. Did you not know about her?”
She quickly shook her head. “How would I? I don’t even know Rich.”
“Rightttt.” I nodded. “Anywho, she gave me a flash drive.” I stepped closer to her, watching her finally start to realize how bad this really was. “You know what was on it?”
I didn’t wait for an answer.
“Everything from the fucking night I shot Rich in Dallas.” I let the silence stretch between us before smiling coldly. “And guess who else was in it?” I sneered. “You.”
Giani opened her mouth and closed it, her hands trembling as she tucked them into her armpits.