19. Ozyris Brentley
Idamn near knocked the hospital doors off the hinges running in there. Security was right behind me, telling me to slow down so they could keep up, but I couldn’t hear none of that. All I could think about was Reesie.
I spotted PB first. He was sitting there with his elbows dug into his knees, his chin resting on his fists.
My chest tightened up looking at him like that. Then I saw Summer, asleep, leaned all the way over onto Paisley’s shoulder. And Paisley—her face was black and blue, swollen up on one side, holding her sleeping son in her arms.
“Where’s King?” I asked before I even got all the way to PB. That was the first thing that came out my mouth. I needed to know my nephew was safe.
“Unc got ‘em,” PB said, not even looking all the way up at me. “He’s good.”
I nodded, and he slowly stood up. He pulled me in for a hug, and I hugged him tight.
“What’s going on? What happened to Paisley?” I asked, nodding toward her.
PB rubbed his hand down his face. “Her baby daddy put his hands on her. We waiting to be seen right now.” He said it flat. “It’s a long story, bruh. I’ll tell you later.”
That’s when I noticed the blood on his shirt. It was dried up across the front of it, dark and crusted over. I looked from the blood to Paisley’s face, already knowing her other baby daddy was probably looking ten times worse than she did right now.
But now wasn’t the time. I was just glad Pais and the kids were straight.
Some fans had already caught wind that I was in the building. A couple girls had their phones up, recording and whispering to each other. My security stepped in front of them.
“Step back! Give them some space,” one of them said, his arm out, blocking the view.
“Y’all can’t be recording right now,” PB snapped, his voice cracking a little on the last word. “Please. Not right now.”
Ky came up beside me quietly, the way she always did when she knew something was serious. I looked at her, and she looked at me, waiting, but my mind was all over the place.
“Ky,” PB said, turning to her, “right now ain’t a good time to keep going with the Ozy Love Weekend Experience. “Can you get in touch with Derez and let him know I have a family emergency?”
“Say less,” Ky said. “I’m on it.” She stepped off to the side, her phone already up to her ear.
I dropped down in the closest chair to me and put my face in my hands.
“This is all my fault,” I mumbled. “Fuck!”
My whole body was shaking.
My brother put his hand on my back, but I shrugged it off, stood up, and paced a few steps, cussing under my breath.
That’s when the doctor walked up, a somber look on his face.
“Are you two family? Relatives of Theresa Brentley?” he asked.
“Yeah,” PB said quickly. “We’re her brothers.”
I stopped pacing and walked over to them, tuning the world around me the fuck out.
The doctor took a breath before speaking.
“I’m very sorry…Your sister suffered severe damage to her brain from the lack of oxygen. We ran multiple tests…and there’s no brain activity. She has been declared brain-dead.”
I felt my knees go weak under me.
PB grabbed my arm to hold me up, even though he was barely holding himself up either.
“Is there… is there anything y’all can do?” PB asked.
The doctor shook his head slowly. “No…I’m so sorry. There’s no chance of recovery.”
PB dropped his head, and I stared at the doctor like maybe if I kept looking at him, he would take the words back.
“You’re both welcome to go in and spend some time with her,” the doctor continued softly. “You can sit with her and talk to her. When you’re ready, someone from the care team will speak with you about the next steps.”
He reached out and patted PB on the shoulder.
“You can come this way.”
We walked down that hallway, and it felt like it went on forever. When we got to the room, I couldn’t hold myself together no more.
I fell into the chair by her bed and grabbed her hand. I broke all the way down.
“I’m so sorry, Reesie,” I said, my voice not even sounding like mine no more. “This my fault. I should’ve never gave you that money. I should’ve… helped more. I should’ve done more.”
I kept saying it over and over, holding her hand to my face, crying into it like if I said sorry enough times, it would change something.
Shit was taking me back to how I felt when Mom and Pops passed.
This was too much.
My fucking sister?
Dead?
PB went around to the other side of the bed. He didn’t say much of nothing, just took her other hand in his and stood there, crying quietly.
Wasn’t nothing left to say between us.
Just the two of us holding onto our sister while the machines kept doing their job a little while longer.