Page 176 of 4 Corinthians

“You sure?” Judah said, not letting me go. I knew he heard Cross, but his attention was on me. “I can stay with you if you need me to.”

“I’m sure,” I told him, then kissed his forehead. “I just had a moment, is all. Go on. I’m okay.”

Judah watched me for a second before he backed away and eventually went back to the playroom. Cross took my hand and led me to my room.

“Psalms!” she called out as we passed the living room. When we got to the room, she waited until Psalms was with us before she started talking.

“What’s wrong?” Psalms asked, looking between Cross and me. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Cross answered with a concerned look. “I heard her come in and caught her in the hallway. I was going to tell her we only came because Deuce left his backpack over here and we were about to leave, but then Judah came running to her. As soon as he hugged her, she started crying.”

“Is this about what I texted you about the anniversary shit for church?” Psalms asked. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“This is about your fuck ass baby daddy?” Cross asked. She patted her daughter on the back as she bounced her in the body carrier. “Fuck him and his family. I will kill every one of them right damn now. I know Yale is married to one, but she doesn’t love him. She loves Amethyst. I’ll be doing them a favor.” Cross went back to the door. “I’ll be back. I’m going to ask my husband how upset he’s going to be if I kill a not-so-holy family.” She left, closing the door behind her.

“They did it,” I cried. “They did it because of me.”

“What are you talking about?” Psalms asked me.

“Madea and Granddaddy killed our parents because of me,” I continued to cry. “To protect us. They killed them to protect us.”

“Wait what?” Psalms' face twisted in confusion. “What are you talking about? How do you know that?”

“They told me.” I tried wiping the tears from my face, but it was no use. They wouldn’t stop. “That’s where I was. Not at the shop. I haven’t been there all day. I was meeting with the older generation, then Tulane fuck ass said the grandparents killed our parents.”

“He said what?” Her eyes darkened. “Why the fuck would he say that?”

“Because I stabbed him in the hand,” I told her.

“Then he’s lying. Pain makes niggas say whatever to make it stop.”

I laughed and shook my head. “He’s not. They told me. They did it to protect us. They thought we were being abused. I pointed to them the day they died, and Madea and Granddaddy killed them.”

“Fuck,” Psalms said, then sat on the edge of my bed. “Then they know? Everything?”

“No.” I shook my head and sat next to her. “They just think they were beating us. Nothing about the fighting or you…”

“Fucking,” she finished my sentence. I hated thinking about the thought that my sister was sexually groomed. She’d lost her innocence so young and out of her control. “Okay, so what do you want to do next?”

I stared at the door. I could hear Cross on the phone, more than likely rallying up the cousins to come over. “I don’t know,” I said as my vision blurred again because of my unshed tears. “I don’t know.”

Four

Isat on the steps of my brother's porch, which he shared with his wife, and waited. I didn’t need to call him and let him know I was here. He knew the moment I pulled into his driveway. My sitting here, waiting, was out of respect for his home and marriage. A black Porsche Cayenne drove down the driveway, and I leaned back, resting my elbows on the step behind me. The driver parked, then the car turned off, and the driver's door opened. Trey looked over the hood of the car, his eyes locked on mine.

“We had an agreement,” he said, and I nodded. We did, but it didn’t matter anymore. I needed answers, and he was the only one who could give them to me.

The passenger door opened, and Trey’s wife, Purpose Blackmon, got out of the car. Even though she wore dark sunglasses, I knew that she was watching me. If I had to pick a woman for Trey, it would’ve been Purpose. She was strong, stubborn, smart as fuck, and quick on her feet. Her being in the FBI was also a plus. She closed her door, then walked to the back door and opened it.

A little girl, younger than Judah, got out. She took her time, not rushing, determination on her face, embedded in her eyes. Once she was out, she leaned against the car and caught her breath. Trey walked to the back, popped the trunk, and pulled out a pair of forearm crutches. He brought them to her, but she shook her head and pushed them away.

“Reason, you’re tired,” Trey said. He bent to try and help her put them on, but she pulled her arms away. “Use them. You’ve been strong all day.”

“I got it,” she told him, pushing the crutches away. Her little voice was filled with so much determination that it made me smile. “I can do it, Daddy.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to tire yourself out,” he said, trying to reason with her.

“I’m not tired,” she told him. She turned and looked at Purpose. “Tell him I’m not tired.”