Shattered Illusions #2
The picture was a little older. Trippy’s hairline was fuller. And the girl next to him, that barely went to his chest, was beautiful. They both had the same big smile, but that was the only thing they had in common.
She was a ginger, like me.
Not as many freckles, and hers were more faint, but she was bright, and her hair was the color of mud.
“Knowing you, now I know that ginger shit fasho means you more stubborn. But all that means if I’ma go harder protecting you, like I should have protected her. I’ma always come when you call, but I shouldn’t be the only one here, Wyn. Where the fuck is that nigga that was calling you Lady Luney?”
My face pinched more as I shrugged my shoulders. I really couldn’t answer his question, and that made me feel lower than low.
Pathetic, actually.
“Hear me, as a young nigga, Wyn. Young niggas don’t give a shit about nothing but themselves. At sixteen, all I gave a fuck about was Geronimo Street and getting pussy. It’s the same shit at twenty-three, only now I give a fuck about money, too. Niggas are selfish until they hit like thirty-five,
cuz. That nigga out doing whatever he doing and you here, fucked up. It shouldn’t sit right witchu. You got too much going for you to be like them bitches you was with when I first met you, but I’m glad you had the right mind to get rid of the baby instead of having it.”
I licked my lips and nodded. That must have been how it would have felt to have an older brother. Someone to tell you the real unapologetically, so I absorbed everything he said.
A knock sounded on the door; my time was up. Gingerly, I got out of the bed, and Trippy helped steady me, before we slowly walked out of the room. He’d already picked up pain medication, and the nurse already told me they’d call with my results in a week, to make sure I was cleared.
I was ready to go home.
“I’m letting you know now, Pic is in the car. I told him not to say shit though.”
I nodded as I held onto him. PC and Trippy were a package deal, but at least he had enough decency to stay in the car.
I couldn’t handle them both looking disappointed at me.
Thankfully, the protesters were gone when we got onto the street.
“Could you take me to get some ice cream, too?” I squeaked, looking up at him.
He finally cracked a smile as he nodded. “Yeah, cuz. We can get–”
POP! POP! POP-POP! POP!
Trippy shook as red began to bloom in the middle of his white tee. A scream wrenched out of me as we both fell onto the sidewalk. Distantly, I heard tires screech and glass shatter, but I couldn’t look away from Trippy.
His eyes were unseeing. Blood coughed out of his mouth, droplets landing in his beard. I pushed onto the lone bullet wound, but blood just poured around my fingers.
A car pulled onto the sidewalk, and PC hopped out of the driver’s seat, opening the back.
“Get him in!” he yelled, his voice scratching.
Trippy was so big. Bigger than both of us, but we managed to get him in the back seat. I climbed on top of him to keep pressure, and PC drove off.
“What the fuck happened?!” he roared.
“I-I-I dunno! We were just walking and–”
“And niggas just decided to shoot up the abortion clinic?! Do that fuckin’ make sense, cuz?!”
There were protesters that morning, sure. But in California, they were more harmless than anything. Right?
It felt like it had been hours, but it probably was only ten minutes before we pulled into a warehouse in East Kenton.
A team of doctors opened the back doors, and put Trippy onto a gurney. I started with them, but PC grabbed my arm and pushed me into the door, crowding me.
“Let me be very clear, Ice Princess. My nigga dies, and I kill you. My nigga don’t make a full recovery, then whatever’s wrong with him, will be wrong with you, too. And if I find out them niggas was aiming for you, then I’ma aim for you, too.”
He leaned in, bearing his teeth. “And hit someone else.”
I whimpered against his grip. PC had always been the most chill, and the most quiet. Now, he looked like a demon. And I believed every word he said.
He released my arm and nodded to another guy standing there. “Take her home.”
I didn’t want anyone else’s hands on me, so I forced myself to follow the guy to another car.
As soon as I sat in the backseat, a cramp hit me out of nowhere. When I looked down, I saw blood soaking out of my jeans, mixing with Trippy’s blood that covered me.
My stomach was knotted up completely. Even when I hugged myself, the pressure wouldn’t go away.
As soon as the car stopped in front of my house, I jumped out, snatching my canvas bag and shutting the door. There weren’t any lights on in my house, but I didn’t dare breathe easier.
Not when the silence greeted me on the other side of the threshold.
Not when I went to my room and locked the door behind me.
My eyes locked onto my desk chair. Moreso, the person rising from it.
His dead gaze flicked all over my body before settling on my face again. A gun hung loosely at his side, finger poised on the trigger, something Pops always taught us not to do.
Unless we were about to shoot.
“Something you wanna tell me, Snow?”