Chapter 18 Aviana Scott
AVIANA SCOTT
SINCE LEARNING OF Damar and Mia’s deception and Mia’s death, I reverted to my roots and started to lean on God more than ever.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around how two of the people that I loved the most in the world could betray me so savagely.
I had been attending church with my parents every Sunday and praying more than I ever had before.
This Sunday had been no different. After church, I followed my parents back to their house for dinner, which my mother had prepared that morning.
I sat at my parents’ dining table with the appetizing aroma of pot roast wafting through the air.
“So, when are you going to move out of Mythic’s place?”
I sighed heavily as my mother waited for an answer.
During the silence, I could see my parents stealing concerned, worried glances at each other.
They hadn’t wanted to let me out of their sight since the truth came out about Damar’s involvement in Jeremy and Mia’s murders.
Their trust in my judgment was shattered, and I could sense their disapproval, especially when Mythic’s name came up.
I sighed, knowing where this was heading. “I don’t know. After everything that happened, I feel safest there, and he’s been really supportive. I don’t see a reason to leave.”
Mom furrowed her brow as her fork paused mid-air. “Avi, you know how we feel about him. He’s a gangster, and we remember what he was like in high school. You really should be careful spending so much time with him.”
I bit back my irritation. “He’ll never let anything happen to me. He’s been there for me through all of this. I’m not going to push him away because of his past.”
“Baby, it’s not just about his past,” my dad interjected. “It’s about your safety. We want you to make good choices, especially now, after everything that’s happened.”
Their words struck a nerve. I understood their concern, but they didn’t see the side of Mythic that I did.
He had been my rock during this storm, and it hurt that they couldn’t see that.
I swallowed hard, trying to focus on the food in front of me instead of the growing tension in the room.
I wanted to yell that I was a grown woman capable of making my own decisions, but I respectfully held my tongue about that too because I had clearly not been the best judge of character when it came to Damar and Mia.
As I pushed the mashed potatoes around my plate, my dad’s voice broke through the tension. “So, what’s going on with the divorce? How does that process work with Damar being in jail?”
Looking into his eyes, I saw the usual flash of anger that appeared every time Damar’s name came up.
When my parents found out about the affair between Mia and Damar, I had never seen them so furious. I wanted to keep the news from them—to protect them from the chaos—but it was impossible; the story had exploded all over the news and the Internet, and the gossip was relentless.
Our friends and loved ones, even neighbors, were whispering and speculating.
Everyone looked at me with eyes filled with pity.
It felt like I was living in a reality show I never signed up for.
Everyone seemed to think they knew the truth, and the speculation was always the same: Damar had murdered Mia, but he had yet to make a confession, and the investigation was still ongoing.
“Well, since he’s locked up, it’s a bit complicated.
I’ve filed the divorce petition through the court, and it’s different when the spouse is incarcerated.
I’ve been working with a lawyer who specializes in these kinds of cases.
He said I’ll need to serve Damar with the divorce papers, even if he’s in jail. ”
Mom frowned, clearly worried. “But how will you do that? Is he even going to respond?”
I shrugged. “He has a right to respond, but it might not matter. I can still move forward with the divorce if he doesn’t. The lawyer said that as long as I can prove he’s been served, I can request a default judgment since he can’t show up in court.”
“Do you have any idea how long it will take?” Mom asked.
“It could take a few months, depending on how things go. I just have to stay strong and keep pushing through the process. It’s just one more thing I have to handle on top of everything else.”
Their silent support was comforting, but I could still feel their concern. I hated that I was making them worry. I wished I could retreat into my own world, far away from the prying eyes and the constant chatter. I felt suffocated by my parents’ worry and the public scrutiny.
I took a deep breath, both reluctantly and willingly changing the subject.
“I’m going out of town with Mythic.” The moment the words left my mouth, I could sense the immediate shift in my parents’ demeanor.
Their eyes widened, and I braced myself for their reaction.
“He’s taking me on a vacation because I need to relax and clear my mind after everything that has happened. ”
I had been wrestling with the urge to lie about who I was going with. I could have said I was going alone, but I knew that wouldn’t fly. My parents would never let me rest if they thought I was going off by myself, and I had no other friends to lie and say that I was going with.
“Unt-uh. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” my father fussed.
“I really need this vacation right now. I promise I’ll be careful.”
My mom exchanged a worried glance with my dad, and I could see the doubt written all over their faces.
“Avi,” my mother said with the high-pitched tone that always sent chills down my spine, “haven’t you had enough of being connected to the wrong people?”
“Well, we all thought Mia and Damar were good people, and we were clearly wrong about that. So, obviously, none of us are in the position to judge,” I shot back with a hint of frustration creeping into my voice.
My dad raised an eyebrow as a stern expression covered his face. “Watch it.”
“We’re only looking out for you,” my mother quipped. “We don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“I’m sorry,” I quickly told them. “I didn’t mean to get smart. It’s just… It’s been a lot lately, and I really think this trip will help me.”
The tension hung in the air for a moment before my parents nodded. Their expressions were still worried but slightly more understanding.
“We just want what’s best for you, honey.” My mom’s voice was gentler now.
“I know,” I replied, feeling a little calmer.
“And I appreciate it. I really do. I just need some space to figure things out.” I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to tell my parents that I was in love with Mythic, that he was not only being supportive, but he was also putting his dick in me every chance he got.
But I wouldn’t dare give my parents heart attacks.
I couldn’t bear to lose them too after everything else I had already lost.
DAMAR SCOTT
I slouched in a chair in the dayroom, half-heartedly watching some old sitcom on the flickering TV. It was just background noise.
Just months ago, I was a promoter, living the high life, surrounded by the glitz and glamour of the club scene. Bottles popped like fireworks every night. I mingled with the city’s elite. I was living like a king in a world where money and status meant everything.
Now, I was stuck in Cook County Jail, and reality hit me like a punch to the gut every morning when I opened my eyes. This place was far from the vibrant nightlife I once thrived in.
I glanced around at the other inmates. All of them were hardened by their circumstances.
Their faces were etched with lines of suffering and regret.
They wore their misery like a second skin, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of superiority, even if I was locked up with them.
Sure, I had made my share of mistakes, but I did what I had to do for survival.
I didn’t just throw my life away; I made calculated moves, and the only reason I had gotten caught is because it turns out that my son was smarter than I thought.
Every day here felt like a prison within a prison. The food was bland and tasteless, served on trays that reminded me more of a school cafeteria than a place meant to rehabilitate. The stench of every room was a mix of sweat and despair that clung to my clothes.
As I stared aimlessly at the TV, the same crew of 111 Boyz who had jumped me the first day I got locked up strolled in.
Their crew had grown since then as more and more of them got arrested every day.
Their taunting laughter echoed off the walls as they came in.
They were always on the lookout for a chance to make my life hell.
They’d been terrorizing me day in and day out.
It was no longer just about avenging Jeremy’s death; they treated it like a game, and I was their favorite target.
Each time they spotted me, I could see the twisted thrill in their eyes of making me feel small and weak.
They’d throw insults my way, trying to get a rise out of me, laughing at my every flinch.
They’d corner me in the yard or during meals, pushing me around like I was nothing.
Just a few days ago, they’d jumped me again, and I still hadn’t fully healed from the bruises they’d left behind.
Every painful movement I made reminded me of their fists connecting with my skin as their laughter rang in my ears.
I felt the tension building inside me as they closed in.
Fear crept up my spine. Every time we had an altercation, I wondered what if this time was worse.
I wondered what if they decided that particular time to kill me.
The thought made my heart race so intensely that a sharp pain shot through my chest. I was living in a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from.
“Look at this bitch-ass nigga.”
“Weak bitch.”