Rayzor: Claim What's Mine

1. Rayzor

“It depends on where your scars led me,” she replied.

I cocked my head to the side, fixing my jaw after she’d hit me in it.

“You said you loved a nigga, was that shit conditional?” I questioned.

“Courtland, all I wanna know is… where are the kids?”

“Fuck!” I barked. “You keep asking about them like I’ll fucking hurt them.” I paused. “Those my fuckin’ kids too. I’d never hurt them, E. Fuck kinda nigga you take me for?”

“The article. That’s the kind of man I think you are.”

I glanced down at the screen, which had faded to black.

I saw the article. Saw the headlight. My face. My past. I lived it. Didn’t need to see it.

The floor creaked behind us, which made both Eris and me hide what was happening. Erin came into the light, rubbing her eyes, unaware that some real shit was happening.

Eris glared back at me.

I saw relief wash over her face that Erin stopped what she wanted to do.

“Is everything okay?” Erin groggily asked, squinting her eyes.

“Yeah. Gon’ on back to bed,” Eris directed, keeping her gun tucked away.

The air hung for a second.

“I heard you two arguing.”

Erin stepped around me. I kept my back to Erin to keep her from seeing all this blood on me.

“Where’s Levi?” Eris asked.

“In my bed. Rayzor came over and saved us from Clarissa’s nasty cooking. She tried to make chicken, and it was still bleeding. I don’t know why we can’t stay home alone. I’m old enough to watch Levi.”

The room went quiet.

“I’ll think about it, but gon’ back to bed, okay? I’ll be in there to check on y’all soon.”

Before Erin’s feet drug across the floor, she stopped.

“Rayzor… are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, lil’ bit, I’m good. Listen to your sister. I’ll see y’all in the morning, aiight.”

“Okay,” she responded before shuffling toward the back of the house into the dark.

We listened as her bedroom door closed.

Eris turned back around. “I have a family to protect, and before I let you hurt us, I’ll hurt you first, Courtland. I’m serious,” she threatened.

“Shit, if I hurt y’all, ain’t no me baby.”

Behind her eyes was a twinkle of softness, like my words had gotten to her, but she wasn’t giving in that easily. That’s my fucking wife. That’s right, baby. Believe none of what I say, but everything I do.

My jaw tensed. “Now either you blow that bitch or put it down,” I warned.

She didn’t want to shoot me, but she would, and I respected that; that’s why I even let her point that mothafucka at me. I loved that chocolate, good pussy having ass mothafucka. I knew she was doing the right thing, but she was moving off emotions.

“Why are you covered in blood?” she asked again.

I let it linger and headed into the kitchen. She followed closely as I opened the garage door. I enclosed us.

The night air was still. Heavy– in more than one way.

Her neighborhood was quiet, but I was about to wake shit up.

I popped the trunk, then stepped to the side.

She contemplated coming over, but the truth was, she didn’t have a choice because it was out there.

“Oh my God!” she yelled.

Her eyes watered.

“Trevon and Michael,” she squawked, looking over at the bodies crammed and roped together. Their mouths taped shut, eyelids glued together. They never saw what was coming.

She ran quickly away from my grasp, throwing up on the floor in the trash can near the edge of the garage. I wasn’t about to console her behind other niggas. Something inside me wouldn’t let me. This shit was life. It was me.

I grabbed her by the back of the neck. “I told yo’ ass before not to play with me, E. You put these niggas in harm’s way.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, which further pissed me off because I couldn’t tell if she was crying and apologizing to me or these niggas.

“If you shedding a tear for other niggas in front of me, you might as well put yourself in there wit ’em.”

“Are they dead?” she questioned.

I wasn’t liable to answer that, so I closed it, grabbed her hand that held the gun and took her back inside the house, although she slowly dragged her feet. There was a lot of shit to discuss in a short time, and the clock was ticking. I knew she had questions and I had answers.

When I crossed over into her bedroom, my eyes went over to the bed. A place where I found peace through my own chaos. Whenever I laid my head on her pillows, all the shit from the day washed away. Her presence, her place and space always humbled me.

I made it to the bathroom. Her hand trembled as I dropped her hand. She stood by the door, hugging herself. Like she wasn’t sure what to do in the space with me.

“Strip,” I told her, then turned on the shower.

“You crazy? I need to call the police,” she panicked.

“For what?”

“What do you mean, for what? You got two bodies in the trunk.”

I wouldn’t put it past her to call, but in the meantime, I grabbed her, unzipping the dress she wore to smile in another nigga’s face, watching it fall to the floor. I scanned every piece of her, making sure she didn’t wear have another scent on her home.

“You either gon’ use this mothafucka or put it up before the kids see this shit,” I said, turning on the water.

Her voice almost quivered until it didn’t.

“Not until you tell me why the hell you got two men in the trunk, covered in blood, and why you were arrested for murder.”

“I’ll tell you while you get that nigga’s cologne off you.”

Watching every piece of clothing carefully, her eyes grew bigger at every blood-stained item that fell.

I removed the gun.

I picked her up and placed her under the shower with me.

Silence.

The scent of blood was loud as it perforated the air.

Her eyes fell from me to the stream of red running down the drain. I closed my eyes. She watched quietly. Everything came rushing over me, from Vegas to that flight back home, then everything was a blur.

Her breathing was the only thing that brought me back to life as I opened my eyes. Once I was satisfied with a quick rinse-off, I grabbed my shower gel, hitting my body, wondering if I wanted to let her in, but knew I had to.

“What you wanna know first?”

“Why are they there?”

“They touched what’s mine.”

“So, you kill them because of me? Then show up to my house like you pulled an eight-hour shift to a wife and kids.” She squinted in confusion.

“I mean, I did just get home from work.”

She grabbed the sides of her head. “Don’t do this right now, Courtland. I’m scared shitless.”

I reached for her, pulling her towards me.

That’s when I knew I needed to let her in. It’s either she understands or not.

“I caught that six years ago…” I looked to the ceiling, then back down. “A nigga raped Naya so I made sure he pushed up daisies,” I confessed, trying to push that day to the back of my mind.

Naya had gone out with her friends. City and I were making moves.

I was newly homeless. Had been for a couple months, crashing with City a few nights a week. And if I wasn’t, then I was on the blocks making sure to get my money right.

When I arrived home, Naya was in bed in the dark. I didn’t think shit of it, so I kissed the side of her head and went to take a shower. Did my normal routine. It took me all of thirty minutes before I got in bed with her.

She knew what it was. When I come home don’t ask me about the streets.

The room was quiet as I threw my arm over my face.

Usually, Naya cuddled up to me, but this time she didn’t.

“Aye,” I called out.

She didn’t respond.

“Naya,” I called her name.

“Hmm,” she answered, but it was something about the way she responded.

“You good?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” she said then sniffled.

I sat up and hit the bedside lamp. That’s when I noticed she was laid in the bed with the same fucking clothes she had gone out in.

“What’s up?” I questioned.

Her back was facing me, but I could see the jerking motions, indicating she was crying. I got up, went to her side of the bed, and that’s when I fucking saw red. Literal red. The fucking covers and her clothes were covered in it.

I snatched them off.

“Baby.”

She looked at me, tears rolling off the side of her face onto the pillow. Naya wasn’t herself. This was hurt. I felt that shit within.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You gon’ say something. What the fuck happened?”

She knew not to keep shit from me, but she also did it from time to time because my temper was bad as fuck.

I pulled her hand from under her face to sit her up.

“Me and the girls went to this party.”

“I know. What happened? Did y’all get into it or some shit?”

She shook her head then dropped it into her hands.

“I don’t know what was in my drink, but next thing I know, while I’m in the bathroom, this guy comes in and wouldn’t leave. He killed the lights and everything. And he… he… he…”

My chest swelled thinking about her next words because the evidence was there. Red neck, bruised cheek. Her sleek hair was thrown all over the place. She looked like the battle, and that shit caused a twinge deep inside.

“He what? Fuck! Tell me.”

“Raped me!” she blurted between wails.

The wind was knocked out of my fucking chest.

“I did it…. to protect her,” I trailed off.

Her gasp pulled me back to reality.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have the same empathy for me if it was under different circumstances?”

Her gaze fell. “Maybe.” Something clicked, and she stepped back, putting distance between us. “But that still doesn’t change the fact you have two men roped and caged up in the trunk of a fucking car.”

“It doesn’t change the fact, but it’s got everything to do with who a nigga is today.”

“That’s what my girls were trying to tell me.”

“What?”

“That I couldn’t handle being with someone like you.”

I cupped her chin, knowing those words were truer to the wise, but for me, it felt different in my spirit.

“They’re wrong… You’ve been handling me so far. You’re the only one that can. Don’t give up on me, Pretty Teeth.”