After I ate, I made sure Amir got ready for bed while my nigga was blowing up my phone, asking if I wanted anybody to find him, but that nigga was my burden to bury.
After I turned all the lights off in the house and made it to my room, I looked at Islah’s side of the bed, and damn near wanted to cry. I felt like a piece of me was missing.
But instead of crying, a nigga didn’t really let tears fall. I took that anger and bottled it up inside of me, just to make sure that when I catch that nigga—cause with everything in my body, Iknew I was gonna catch that nigga—all that anger he caused me, my people, my girl, he was gonna feel it.
After the move he made, the only choice I had was to make sure he died in the worst way—I wasn’t gonna miss this time.
Chapter 3
Reasoning
Ihad a connecting room in a tucked-off hotel out the way that Jada put me on to. I had the windows covered up, and my niggas knew Islah was not supposed to know where we were at.
I did do my girl right tho’ and let her have a room to herself to sleep with the door open, where me and my niggas could watch her. I took a chance and got Joe to buy a bunch of medical shit, along with some needles and fishing wire, and went into the other room to wake Islah up.
“Aye,” I said, tapping her on her foot.
It took her a lil’ bit to roll over, and I was still tapping her foot when she kicked at me.
“Stop fucking touching me,” she responded low, her voice sounding sleepy and sexy.
I smiled at her. It was a new day, and I wanted us to start over.
“Come on, let’s get this shit done.”
I limped into the other room. The wounds was fuckin’ with me more than before; my niggas was fucked up too. Islah followed behind me slow to the other room and saw that I had everything set up.
I laid some towels on the bed where she could work on us and brought a light over so she could see. I took my shirt off and lay on the towels while I watched her walk further into the room.
“What is all of this?” she asked.
“Everything you need to fix us up,” I responded.
Islah walked over to the bags I had sitting on a lil’ table and looked through them with an attitude. She then walked around, looking at me and my niggas’ wounds, not sayin’ shit to none of us for a few minutes.
“Gio, what the fuck you expect me to do? I am not a fuckin’ surgeon, and this shit that you got is not gonna help with shit. You need a doctor.”
Carlos, Frog, Joe, and Kev all nodded their heads.
“We told him that shit already,” Carlos stated.
I looked over at Carlos and cocked the gun at him.
“Nigga, shut the fuck up.”
I then looked over at Islah, pointing the gun at her.
“This is what you have to work with, so get to work.”
Islah looked at me like I said something that she didn’t understand, but instead of responding, she pulled the shit outta the bag and set it all out on the table.
I tried not to watch her as she cleaned the tweezers and the needles, but it was hard not to. She looked good even when she was mad. I realized that she had been wearing the same clothes for a few days.
I got up, letting her set up, and pulled Carlos off to the side.
“Aye, I’ma send you a list, go to the store and grab Islah some clothes and shit to shower with.”
Carlos looked at her, then back at me.
