Delirium

Chapter 1

SEREIA

“What time you comin’ back?” I asked my brother Meech, standing in the doorway of his bedroom, with my arms crossed over my chest, watching as he got ready to leave.

Meech looked down at his iPhone before looking over his shoulder at me. “You know how shit go. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning fa sho. As usual.”

“With breakfast?”

“Hell yeah. Cheese eggs, bacon and hash browns,” he tossed over his shoulder as he pulled his black hoodie down over his head.

“Hash browns with what?” I asked, testing him.

“Squeeze cheese,” he said, his voice muffled by the hoodie sliding down over his face. “I got you. I remember, Sereia.”

I went quiet for a second, watching him closely.

He had on plain black joggers, a black hoodie with a black tee underneath it, and black Air Force Ones.

On his neck was his usual pendant chain.

The one with momma in the middle. He wore his long locs dangling in his face.

But the way he wore his hair wouldn’t matter once he pulled his black shiesty down over his face.

He was dressed the way he always dressed when he left the house at this time of night. Low key.

I looked down at my cracked iPhone 12 Pro Max, checking the time.

It was going on eleven. He told me not to wait up for him, but I would.

I always did. He just didn’t know. Whenever he’d come home, I’d watch him from the couch, one eye cracked open, happy as hell.

And then, that morning, usually hours later, I’d ask him what time he got home, as we sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast he picked up before he got here.

It was what we did.

At least three times a week.

Four if the week before that one was rough and we had a couple of shut off notices.

Demetrius and I were close. Very close. It was just the two of us. He was five years older than me and took the big brother role seriously. He took care of me and home. We didn’t have parents. I mean, we had them, but momma died years ago and daddy was in prison.

“What?” Meech asked, questioning my silence.

I took a deep breath, pushed away from the wall and walked into the bedroom. With my hands out, I approached him. He extended his and we held hands. I didn’t have to tell him to bow his head. He followed my lead.

“Dear God, you know what I need. You know what Meech needs. Protection. We don’t just need you to protect him—we need help from the ancestors, too. Watch over him. Guide him. Help him keep his intuition sharp and his awareness on point. Amen.”

“Amen,” Meech mumbled before releasing my hands. He lifted the bottom of his hoodie, brandishing the handle of his gun. “This all the protection I need.”

I turned the corners of my mouth up, frowning. “Now you know that’s a lie.”

“It and the bullets in this bitch,” he joked.

“Yeah, okay, Demetrius,” I chastised. “Stop playing with me.”

“Aight, aight. I hear you sis. I appreciate you. I just don’t think God listens to the prayers coming from The Woods.”

We lived in Brickhaven, MI., in one of the largest housing projects on the east side.

Ironwood Estates—The Woods. The only thing that came out of The Woods were drug dealers, dope fiends, scammers, thieves, hood rats, prostitutes, single moms (and dads), and the unlucky ones—like me—who were forced to live here because of financial circumstances.

The Woods had been a part of my life for as long as I could remember.

I was born and raised here. Meech too. It was our life.

The only time we moved was when we changed apartments because momma wanted to ‘upgrade’.

It wasn’t much of an upgrade though. The only difference between this apartment and the one we moved from was the flooring and the paint color.

It still had the same small ass bedrooms, the same low water pressure, and the same loud ass rowdy ass, ghetto ass fucking neighbors.

Oh. It had the same roaches and mice too.

Luckily we didn’t have rats. Not like our cousins, on the other side of the community.

I was grateful for that. Could handle a couple of mice here and there.

Well, shit, I didn’t handle them—Meech did.

He handled everything. I just lived here and went to work every now and then, pitching in on bills whenever I could.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Here you go with that.”

“Not just from The Woods. Shit, from me. From us.” He paused and gestured towards himself. “Look at me. Look at us. Look at where we at. How long you been prayin’? Before you… how long was ma prayin’?”

Meech and I were different. In many ways.

Being the girl, I was sheltered mostly. I didn’t hang out much and I kept my head in the books for the most part.

Growing up, I was accustomed to my living environment, but I hated it.

I wanted out. Because I knew money wouldn’t get me out, I focused heavily on education.

As if the education system in Brickhaven was worth a damn.

Still, I kept my head in the books. I was determined to use my intelligence to get me up out of the hood.

I graduated high school three years ago. You see how far that got me?

Aside from being sheltered and heavy in the books, Meech and I had two completely different views when it came to how we looked at life.

I felt like the way we were brought up played a major role in that.

Like I said, he was outside. He’d seen more than I had.

It was hard for him to be positive because there was so much negativity around him.

I mean, that same negativity surrounded me too.

But if there was one thing my mother instilled in me before she died, it was the importance of gratitude, prayer and positivity.

“How many nights we eat?” I asked him. “How many mornings you come home? Stop talking crazy. Don’t leave with that negative ass spirit. You want me to sage your ass down?”

I kept hope. I knew in my spirit that I wouldn’t die in The Woods.

Neither of us would. I was determined to get Meech out too.

There was a lot more to the world than just The Woods.

Hell, Brickhaven period. I didn’t know where I wanted to go exactly but I knew I wanted to leave.

Anywhere in the world would be better than here. I was sure of it.

I might’ve hated my circumstances, but I was grateful for a roof.

Sure, it leaked sometimes, but at least I had one.

At least we had one. After momma died and daddy went to prison, I didn’t know where we would wind up.

I was fourteen—Meech was nineteen. He was a corner boy, selling weed for one of the niggas in the hood, barely making ends meet.

That didn’t last long though. After everything changed, Meech did too.

He went from selling weed for Khaos to making money with the Christ brothers.

He laughed and mushed me in the forehead. “Nah, don’t bring that stankin’ shit out.”

“Shut up, then,” I said with a smile, pushing him in the chest. “Don’t forget to get cheese on my hashbrowns, nigga. I want extra this time, too.”

“I got you. Shoot me a text and remind me. You know my head fucked up.”

Meech’s head was fucked up.

When we were kids, he got into a fight in the yard with this big nigga named Erick.

Erick used to run around The Woods tormenting everybody, bullying them, talking shit, just being an overall asshole.

He used to fuck with Meech a lot. For the most part, my brother ignored him, paying him dust. But Erick went from talking shit to trying to push him around since Meech was little and scrawny.

That didn’t last long. Erick caught Meech on a bad day and despite Erick being taller and bigger, Meech beat the shit out of him.

However, at the end of the fight, when Meech was walking away, Erick got up, grabbed him from behind, picked him up and slammed him on the concrete, knocking him out.

Everybody thought he was dead. My brother lost so much blood.

The paramedics took forever to come, as usual.

When they did, they got him on the stretcher and rushed him to Brickhaven Medical Center where he was diagnosed with a massive concussion that could’ve killed him.

After that, his memory was never the same.

So, I didn’t fault him when he forgot my cheese the last time.

It was a blessing that he remembered breakfast at all. Every single time, too.

“Okay. I’ll text you,” I said as Meech slid through the doorway, past me.

I eyed him, fiddling with the black onyx crystal dangling from my neck, my anxiety starting to rise.

I should’ve been okay. The prayer? It should have been enough.

But my nerves were starting to get the best of me.

Meech was big on protecting me in the physical—I was big on protecting him in the spiritual.

“Meech,” I called out as I reached back to unclasp the necklace from my neck. “Wait.”

He stopped walking and looked over his shoulder at me. “What up?”

“Here,” I said, pushing the crystal towards him.

He looked down at it, his thick eyebrows furrowed, unmoving. With the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight frown, he locked eyes with me. I raised my brows at him and eyed him up and down, silently telling him to take it.

Meech took a deep breath, grabbed the crystal from me and stuffed it into the pocket of his joggers, shaking his head. Once the crystal was tucked safely in his pocket, I extended my hand to him, and we did our usual handshake. Clap, clap, grip.

We said our I love you’s, he walked out and I made sure to lock up when he did.