Page 11 of Delirium 2

She listened.

His screams were deafening. British’s too. I’d kind of tuned her out. Was too locked in on Stubbs. Mainly because I hated the way he’d spoken to me before. That… It bothered me tremendously. The tone of his voice when he talked… when he threatened to take her finger. That initial phone call. When he answered it. He was ballsy as hell then, wasn’t he? Today, he was losing them both.

“Off with it, baby doll,” I whispered in Jada’s ear.

She looked over at me. Eyes wide. “Wha⁠—

I scratched my chin. “Come on now, gorgeous. You can hear. Very well. Do that for me. Thank you.”

It took Jada a minute but eventually, she cut the nut off. Went across that left nut back and forth with the scalpel bloodying her pretty little hands. Tears poured from her eyes. She screamed out of frustration, but she kept going. Right up until that left nut fell on the ground.

* * *

Hours later, I was at home. Clean, fresh out of the shower, in my secret place, on my knees in deep prayer. I didn’t ask for forgiveness. Didn’t need it. Instead, I met him with gratitude. Thanked him for giving me the greenlight. Thanked him for sparing me. Showed appreciation for the fact that despite it all, He still loved me. Regardless of what a mafucka thought, I knew He still loved me. I was flawed. Deeply flawed. But a trying man still. I didn’t take it there with Stubbs’ nem. I was chilling. I left people alone but they… despite what they knew about me… wouldn’t leave me be. The way I handled dawg on the block? Twisted his face and all that? That was him. Today… with Stubbs and the bitch British? They did that. I didn’t approach the situation on bullshit. I’d been chilling for years. I prayed, gave thanks, handled my business and kept my head down. It wasn’t until I was provoked that I let the demon out. Yeah, I was a praying nigga. Went to Big G often but the demon… it lived inside of me still. Duality, nigga. I was both a saint a sinner. An angel and a demon.

“Exodus?” Whispered Jada from the door.

I peeled my eyes open, clenched down on my teeth and stared off into the darkness outside of my window. What was she doing here? She didn’t belong here. My secret place was mine and mine alone. Jada was really, truly blowing me.

“Exo—

“Sleep in the guest room tonight,” I muttered, clenching and unclenching my fists.

“I just⁠—”

“Leave me be,” I said through gritted teeth.

A second later, the door closed and my nostrils flared with annoyance. She knew this room was off limits. Why she decided to bring her ass up here was beyond me. I was trying my damnedest. Trying my damnedest to you know… do right by people. Live life on the straight and narrow, repay loyalty with loyalty but I was reaching my wits end. She’d disturbed my peace not once but twice today. Peace… it was of a major currency. You couldn’t pay for it. Had to reach, and pull for it. In the deepest depths of your soul. It was priceless and I would do anything to keep it.

I said a couple of more hushed words to the most high, ended the prayer with Amen, and stood. With my hands clasped in front of me, I walked over to the window. Gazed out at the full moon, closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. A full moon was fitting. I had been on animal shit all day.

Behind my closed lids I thought about Stubbs. Thought about what it was like to take him a part, piece by piece. It didn’t make any sense, really, for me to be standing in my secret place—my prayer room—thinking about committing murder but again… I was who I was. A flawed individual who was trying.

Anyway, I thought about Stubbs.

Thought about the tone of his voice the day before. Knew then that he’d eat those words and he had. He begged for his life. Begged for mercy. Cried out to a God that didn’t hear him. Again… the factory… it wasn't a place for God. Just a place for the devil and he answered. He answered both of their calls. British’s too.

Taking in a deep breath, I thought about how Jada handled her. She had parts in that too. She had parts in it all. Wished, and begged for a suit. Wanted to be covered in something other than blood. But I didn't give a fuck. I wanted her to feel it. Wanted her to sit in it. Wanted her to suffer. She did this. Had she listened… What happened… her helping with the murders… it wouldn’t have happened. She’d never witnessed this side of me. She’d never looked in my eyes and saw the devil himself. Today I introduced her to him. She saw him. In the flesh and by the look of terror in her eyes, she didn’t like it.

Good.

Hopefully she wouldn’t have to see him again.

Hopefully, going forward, I could keep him tucked

* * *

The next morning, I was at the kitchen island, hunched over a bowl of corn flakes. She walked in wearing a silk kimono. Today she didn’t wear the Versace robe. Today she didn’t have her tripod out. She didn’t set her phone up. Today, she was Jada. Real and raw. None of that superficial shit she did for clicks and views. Today she was authentically her. Her head, it was wrapped in a scarf instead of its usual bonnet. Her shoulders were slumped. Spirit heavy. The weight of what happened, wearing her down.

She walked by, wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my back. I let her despite how heavy she was. Jada was Jada. Wounded. Confused. Fragile. A pain in my fuckin’ ass. But harmless. Despite getting her hands dirty last night, she was fucking harmless. Her energy, though frazzled, had absolutely no effect on me. She could rest. She could lay there. I knew what it was. Me. I brought her peace. Last night she didn’t have that. Because last night, her ass slept in the guest room like I told her to.

“Good morning,” she mumbled, her wet lips touching my bare shoulder blade.

I stabbed at the cereal, took in a spoonful and said nothing.

“You still mad at me, Exodus? I didn’t mean to—I was… I needed to talk. I needed to pray.”

Jada didn’t pray.