Ch. 7
CHEYONNE
The disrespect from the sun rays resting on my flesh had me waking up with a scrunched face.
My left hand quickly rose to block the bright light from hitting me so hard.
I was able to peel my eyes open and take in my surroundings.
From what I gathered, I was home and had somehow slept through the night.
Pressing my hands into the mattress, I groaned as I pulled myself up and placed my back against the headboard.
I was slightly confused on how I even got home, to be honest. The last thing I remembered was enjoying my shopping spree with Nesh in Chanel.
I wore a smile each time I asked the worker to add a bag to the tab.
So many purses were bought, and I didn’t regret a thing.
Anything from there was a fuzz. It just simply couldn’t be recalled.
Pain coursed through my canvas alerting me of the episode I’d entered. I couldn’t lie; it caught me by surprise. Normally, I’d flare before getting to this point, but for some odd reason, I couldn’t recall what got me to this point. It could’ve been that weird ass dream I had that got me here.
The dream left off exactly where me and Toneshia did.
We spent more money than intended but came to a halt when chaos broke out.
Me and my bestie got the heck out of there, and I just so happened to run into the shooter.
He was a handsome little thing, but I couldn’t focus on his features because he had a gun to my head.
The rest of the dream was a blur, but I was pretty sure some the guy told me his name was Black somewhere in the mist of it all. I woke up shortly after.
It’s crazy ‘cause everything that happened in my dream felt so real.
Like, I had this feeling as if the cold steel was still pressed to my dome.
The feeling of being kidnapped sent a shiver through my entire body.
That was probably why I was in an episode now.
The fear, uncomfortableness, as well as anxiety spike from the dream was too much.
I had to call Nesh and tell her about it.
She had to hear this shit and get a good laugh out of it.
I reached over for my phone that I always put on the nightstand before sleeping.
When it wasn’t there, I released a deep breath and went to check the other nightstand but quickly came to a stop.
The frame of someone else rested on the right side of me.
Throwing the covers back, I released a scream that echoed throughout the room. My hands flew over my mouth as soon as my eyes landed on the gun he held against my leg. Cold steel being pressed against me was no longer just a feeling but a fact. He cocked it with his thumb and stirred in his sleep.
What the fuck Cheyonne? Is this the nigga from your dream?
I kept still until he came to a comfortable stop and drifted back into his sleep.
Once I felt like he couldn’t detect my movements, I had the bright idea to remove the gun from his hands.
It was only right for me to have the upper hand in my own home.
I wasn’t able to lay but a finger on him before he threatened me.
“If you wanted to play with a nigga tool, you should’ve asked me to turn over so you can stroke that muthafucka. What the fuck you think you doing, Brat?”
Who is Brat?
I was at a loss for words. He spoke to me like we were cool with one another, and this was something we indulged in often.
I was visibly shaking out of fear which caused more pain to surface.
Him being here wasn’t good for my health.
I needed him and whatever else he had in mind to get the fuck away from me and out of my home.
Everything that happened in the mall and here seemed to hit me like a ton of bricks.
That was far from a dream Cheyonne.
“Black…” I was testing the waters to make sure what I thought I dreamed was indeed reality.
“I’m trying to fuckin’ sleep and you trying to hold conversation. What?” he questioned in an annoyed tone.
“I need to use the bathroom. Move your gun so I can.” I really did have to use the bathroom but that wasn’t what I wanted to go to the bathroom to do. My phone wasn’t around, but I had an Alexa that I could use to call for help in there.
“Go piss then. The hell you telling me for? Don’t tell me I got to wipe yo’ ass,” he uttered refusing to open his eyes or move his gun.
“Waking up being an asshole is far from cute. I need to use the bathroom, Black.”
“Didn’t I just tell yo’ ass to go? The fuck you still here for.” He rolled over onto his back and his gun rolled with him.
Aside from me being disgruntled with him, I still had eyes that tended to take in his features at the oddest times.
He’d come up out of the clothes he wore from the day before.
Every tattoo was on display, and it seemed as if no part of him wasn’t inked.
From his right cheek on down, there was something new to explore.
His frame wasn’t the biggest, but he held some muscle, almost like an athlete of some sort.
The name Adele was etched across the left side of his chest, and I rolled my eyes at the thought that he was laying in my bed while having a woman at home.
Men would be men. My gaze traveled to his face and lingered on his mouth area.
His full lips and perfectly lined up goatee complimented each other.
With his thick eyebrows and lashes being stacked on one another, that too was a place my gaze stopped and admired.
Black was an attractive young man, but his actions made him lose all respect from me.
“Stop staring at me like some damn creep. I don’t fuck with the cripple no matter how fine they are,” he said opening his brown eyes to me.
Sighing deeply, I rolled my eyes and turned to get out the bed.
I should’ve had more movement by now. The pain in my hips was bearable now so I was hoping I could make it to the bathroom by myself honestly.
Slowly bending down, I reached for the crutch I kept underneath my bed.
For some reason, I was having a hard time laying hands on it.
Usually, it would be right there for me to grab.
“Come on. Where is it?” I asked aloud.
“Where is what?” Black followed up with a question of his own.
“None of your business.”
I bent down a little further and still couldn’t locate it.
Instead of asking for help, I decided to bluff like everything was fine.
This wasn’t something I let others see and he’d invaded his way into my personal life and space.
The least I could do was show that this disorder didn’t give anyone room to take advantage of me.
Another deep breath was taken as I slowly stood.
I used the headboard to help gather balance.
Only a few steps were taken before my knees buckled and I was calling timber.
The weight of my body was heavy on my knees even though I didn’t weigh more than a Stephen King novel.
Black’s arm snaked around my waist pulling me up before I could touch the floor.
“See where that stubborn shit get you? If you couldn’t move yesterday, what the fuck made you think you could today? Come on man,” he said scooping me up and walking me to the bathroom.
Black talked a lot of shit but truthfully speaking, he’d been a gentleman as well. Everything I needed, he’d accommodated. I guess this devil had a side of him no one was supposed to see. He placed me on my feet near the toilet and walked out. He gave me privacy and I was glad of it.
Once I felt like he was far enough away, I lowly called out to Alexa.
“Alexa, call 9-1-1.” When she didn’t say anything back, I said it again while keeping my eyes locked on the door.
“Alexa, call 9-1-1.” It was the same quietness from before.
I looked to where I normally kept my Alexa, and it was no longer there.
Suddenly, I remembered him collecting the devices from my room and removing them. “Dammit!” I uttered in defeat.
Slow pacing to the toilet, I took a seat and relieved my bladder.
There was nothing I could do at the moment.
I was a sitting duck in my own home with a stranger being my caregiver.
This wasn’t how I expected to spend my next few days.
I still had a job to do and the new family I took on was supposed to be getting back to me with questions.
Black was making my simple and dull life, complicated.
I finished up and immediately wanted to shower.
Showering while in this state was torture.
It hurt to move and bending down was the most challenging.
However, I designed my home and put a bench along the walls in my shower.
My shower was also motion detected with my water streaming from overhead as an option.
It came in handy when my fibromyalgia was in unbearable states.
I went all out for this custom bathroom and spared no expense.
My pants were already at my ankles, so I stepped out of them completely leaving only my panties to cover my goodies.
Standing, I pulled them up as I called out to Black for help.
I would need it after all. The shower was nowhere near the toilet and the walk was too long for me to take by myself.
I was going to have to swallow my pride and lean on him momentarily.
“Black. Black!” I shouted.
Walking back into the bathroom, he carried an irritated expression. “Aye, didn’t I tell you to stop calling on me like I’m yo’ nigga or something? What?”
“Can you help me to the shower? The walk is too far, and I don’t know where I placed my crutch.”