Chapter 2 – Khaotic
Chapter
Two
KHAOTIC
There was a wave of mixed emotions as I stared down at my girl, Ashanti, in a casket.
I had just buried my nephew, Asir, and his girl two days before, and felt my heart couldn't take it anymore, but I couldn't miss seeing my girl one last time. She was always so breathtaking and looked more beautiful than ever; she appeared as if she were just resting, but the only difference was that this time she wasn’t gonna wake up.
Her family had done her final makeup, and even in death, my baby was still stunning.
Lifting her cold hand, I placed it between my fingers.
“I should’ve held you that day. I was never supposed to leave your side.
I was supposed to protect you, and I failed you.
I'll never stop fighting for you. I pray for the worst to come to the person who did this to you. An enemy of yours is an enemy of mine.” I paused; the energy was mad heavy, and I could feel that I needed a minute to regroup.
“I will always love you; it’s forever us against the world for life.”
After saying my final goodbyes to the person I thought would always be by my side, I leaned forward, kissing her on the lips.
This was my last day seeing her, being in her presence, being able to touch her, our final kiss goodbye.
I felt a mix of emotions. I knew things would get worse before they got better, but this right here felt like rock bottom for me.
It was a hit to the gut that I wasn't expecting. I always believed that my girl would outlive me, especially because of the life that I was living; it was never promised. Never in a million years did a nigga see some bullshit like this coming. Ashanti was supposed to be standing here in my place, saying her final goodbyes to me, but it was the opposite. Long days ahead for us both is something that I always prayed for, but I guess The Most High had other plans. I didn’t fully grieve the loss of my brother and father, and now here I am grieving the loss of my best friend, my soulmate, and the love of my life.
Being in the streets, there have been many times that I imagined we’d die young, but I've always imagined myself lying beside her if shit were to ever come down to this. I knew what came with the game that we played, but no one could ever prepare me for the pain that I was feeling deep down.
“You know you did this to her,” an older voice spoke in a low yet stern tone that carried a lot of authority.
I could immediately tell from the deep voice and strong presence that this was Gator, Ashanti’s notorious grandfather.
His strong Jamaican accent boomed from behind, loud enough for me to hear him, but still low enough to respect the funeral home.
I had never gotten the opportunity to formally meet Gator; he didn’t care for the lifestyle that I chose and had no fear in voicing his dislike for me.
Although he was deeply rooted in the streets, that wasn’t what he wanted for his granddaughter, which was something that I understood and respected.
This put me and the OG at odds from day one.
For years, I had been trying my hardest to get him to agree to a sit-down between him and me so that we could set aside our differences for the sake of Ashanti.
He was the type that didn't care for words; he studied one's actions. I had dedicated myself to protecting Ashanti but had somehow dropped the ball, so his feelings were valid. Gator was an OG, and every dealer in the hood, including me, wanted a piece of the pie. He was living the American dream that niggas, where I came from, died chasing. It would’ve been a boss move to get grandfathered into the game, but it wouldn't feel right without Ashanti.
“I let her down,” I admitted in defeat.
“The medical examiner confirmed to my wife that she was with child at the time of her death.” Gator shared.
Hearing the news for the first time hit me like a ton of bricks.
The words repeated in my head three more times before reality began to set in; this shit was real.
I dropped my head, fighting back my emotions.
Hearing that Ashanti was pregnant with my child hurt me to the core.
Having a family together and raising children of our own was all she ever talked about and everything she had ever wanted.
They took her from me before she even got the chance to fully live out her dreams.
My mother walked up just in time and placed her hand gently on my shoulder.
Only she knew how much I needed her touch right now, and for her to be by my side at this time.
We had both lost our soulmates and a child.
They always said that gangstas like me were not supposed to cry; it was a weakness to shed tears, no matter how raw the tears were.
I was for sure in love with Ashanti, but still had other family and loved ones that I needed to protect and keep safe.
My family had gotten me caught up in a street war that I had little information about, and little to no details.
I was just relying on the strength of my family, and that was causing me more issues and losses than I could afford.
I felt like I had inherited their beef, and now I had to stand on business no matter the cost. Even with the little information that I had, I was never going to stop haunting these niggas down for killing my family and hurting my mother.
Gator and my mom shared a heated exchange. Both eyes locked in on the other. My love for Ashanti was solid, but if this old nigga got out of line with Momma Dukes, it was lights out for this clown-ass nigga.
“Stay away from my son,” my mother growled at Gator.
“Be thankful I allowed your son to breathe long enough to come and pay his final respects,” Gator spoke before making eye contact with me one last time and walking away.
My mother grabbed me by the hand with hers, giving me a concerned look that I knew all too well. I nodded my head in an attempt to assure her that everything was good, but I knew she could see right through me. He was entitled to feel the way that he felt; in a sense, I had deserved it.
“I won't allow anybody to bully you. Trust me, he will take his last breath before another one of mine does.”
“She was his granddaughter whom I failed to protect-”
“It doesn’t matter.” My mother cut me off. “That doesn’t give him the right to threaten my child,” she spat.
“Ma-”
“Son-”
My mother went to speak, but I cut her off this time.
“With all respect, ma, she was pregnant with my child; my actions can't and will not be justified," I finished before saying my final goodbyes to Ashanti.
At the end of the service, I was surprised that Gator had chosen me to be one of the eight men to carry Ashanti's casket.
I stood in front of her grandfather, honored to be chosen for this moment.
Carrying my girl out of the building to be buried in the ground was a mix of feelings and emotions, but it was most definitely not a moment to show any weaknesses; I had to stand strong and tall.
We walked out of the funeral doors and down the steps, where a horse and carriage awaited.
I took this moment as a message to the world that no matter what, I was going to always stand on business for my girl, even in her absence.
It was up and stuck for life behind Ashanti, and the world was going to eventually feel what they had taken from me.
This wasn't the way I had wanted her first horse and carriage ride to be.
It was hard for a tear not to drop. That was my final tear, a gangster's tear, and the minute it landed, so did a barrage of bullets. The entire outside of the funeral home was chaotic; people were screaming, yelling, and doing their best to hide from getting hit with bullets. I watched Ashanti’s three-year-old nephew's father snatch him and Ashanti’s child up, trying desperately to get them to safety.
I tried my hardest not to drop Ashanti's casket.
My eyes watched in horror as Gator took a shot to the chest, followed by a shot to the side of his neck, causing his legs to buckle and the casket to fall with him.
“NOOOOOOOOO!” Several family members and loved ones yelled, racing to his side.
“Fuck it.”
I let the casket go and pulled my .38 from my waist, not hesitating to bust back.
My adrenaline pumped as I moved recklessly through the crowded streets, focusing on my target.
I dropped one and focused my attention on the next.
I didn't care what happened at this point. It felt like deja vu as I chased my opponents down while emptying my clip. I rushed through the crowd of people and ran to Ashanti’s grandfather's side. I watched helplessly as Gator struggled to breathe. Quickly removing my shirt, I placed it against his wound and began to apply pressure. I could hear Ashanti’s family gathering around us in a panic as we tried desperately to keep him alive until the paramedics arrived, which seemed to take ages.
Every moment that passed, Gator grew weaker, his breathing grew faint, causing the crowd to panic even more by the minute.
Police officers arrived on the scene, and even their faces looked as if this was the first time they had witnessed something so brutal.
They tried their best to secure the scene, but Ashanti’s family members were going off.
Some were yelling at the officers, and some were being held back from popping at the officers for not moving fast enough; every emotion was a valid emotion.
We each helped each other to place pressure on Gator's wounds to keep him from bleeding out. Ashanti’s Mother's screams could be heard the loudest, causing me to pace back and forth in an attempt to keep myself busy.
“Y'all have to make room for the ambulance!” officers yelled in a desperate attempt to get the crowd to listen.
They started backing up and forming a path for the paramedics.
As soon as I saw the paramedics, I waved them over as the crowd made more room.
As soon as they began to merge through the thick crowd, Gator took his last breath before closing his eyes for good.
I stood frozen, staring into space as the officers tried desperately to get my attention.
Staring down at Gator's body lying beside his granddaughter's casket was an eerie sight that I knew that I would never forget. These niggas were on demon time and were taking people from me left and right. Everything was happening so fast; lately, my life was feeling more and more like a horror film. A total of six of Ashanti’s family and loved ones were killed that day during her home going.
And still, I wasn't sure who these niggas were that my brother had beef with.
I was still doing my homework, but whoever they were, they were for sure ruthless and reckless, and so was I.