Page 6 of 4 Corinthians

“Teaching my pet a lesson that will turn into a treat,” Robert answered. He pulled his penis from his boxers and rubbed it. “You will stand there and watch Uri.” He let himself go and pulled Corinthians’ shorts and panties down. “When I am finished, you-“

I’d seen Robert do this to my mother. I’d seen the pain he inflicted, heard her screams. I could feel it in my head, heart, and body. She still had sleepless nights and days when she wouldn’t even talk. I couldn’t let him do Corinthians like that. I couldn’t let him break something in her that would never be whole again. “No!” I yelled, stepping back and shaking my head. “No!”

Logan stood, grabbed me, and placed me next to the desk. He held my arms at my side, but that didn’t stop me from trying to get away from him. “Be still, Uri,” Robert demanded. “Watch and learn how to control your pet.”

“No, Robert, let her go,” I pleaded. I didn’t care if he saw my fear. I wanted him to. I needed him too. If he focused on me, then he would leave her alone. “Please!”

“Be still!” Logan yelled as I pushed against him. “Be fucking still!”

“No!” I pulled away from Logan so hard that I heard something snap in my shoulder, but that didn’t stop me. I needed to get to Corinthians; I needed to protect her. “Robert!

“Be still, or I’ll kill her!” Robert grabbed the letter opener on his desk and pointed it at her spine, right where her shoulders met. Instantly, I stilled, and Robert smiled. “Good boy. Now do as I say.”

“Robert.” I looked down at Corinthians. Her eyes were locked on me. She didn’t say anything, but I could see her fear, her anger, her pain, and a piece of her soul leaving her body. It was one thing to fight; you controlled something.

Corinthians started to move and fight against the restraints. “Watch, learn, and understand. Break her early, and the fight she has will only be in the ring.”

“No!” I yelled, fighting against Logan’s hold. “Let me go!”

“Watch, Uri!” Robert yelled. He grabbed his penis, rubbed it a few more times before bending his legs and moving closer to Corinthians.

“No! No! Let me go! No!” I yelled, fighting against Logan. He was bigger and stronger, but I wasn’t stopping. I couldn’t stop. Not now, not ever. “Let me go! I’ll do whatever you want, Robert! I’ll kill everyone you put me in a ring with! Just stop!”

“Anything?” His eyes widened, and he stood up.

“Everything! I won't run away! I won't fight your men! I won't do anything but kill! Just stop!”

Robert smiled; it almost felt genuine. It was like I was looking at a loving father who was proud of something I’d done, and then it dropped, and he laughed. “That, my boy, is why I say you are almost perfect. It has nothing to do with your inability to feel pain because, for you, it has never been physical. It’s always been mental. You are my son with a touch of your mother embedded in you. But don’t worry, I can break that too.” He stepped away from Corinthians and pulled up his underwear and pants. “You son will be my biggest accomplishment.” He laughed again and shook his head. “My pet, she will be beauty on my arm, while you will be the danger that walks in the shadows.” He picked up the letter opener and flipped it through his fingers. “But for me to mold you into the perfect killing machine, I’m going to have to break you and her.” Without warning, Robert moved closer to Corinthians, and with quickness I didn’t know he had, he stabbed her through the hand with the letter opener.

She never cried, never screamed, never moved. Her eyes stayed locked on me.

Corinthians

“What happened to your hand?” My cousin Mercy asked as she dribbled her basketball. Her daddy made her practice every day, no matter what. He said she would be the first woman in the NBA. Her dark eyes were focused on my hand; the bandage was starting to itch, but I didn’t take it off. I didn’t like the look of the scar that was forming. “Is that one of the things that happened when you got jumped?”

“Yeah,” I said, putting my hand behind my back. That was the story my daddy told everyone I got jumped by some older girls at the park one day. When my family was ready to ride out, my daddy said he would take care of it. That night, he got in his car, drove around the local projects called Turner Row, and shot at a group of people. No one thought twice about it. He was a DeCorte; if he was making moves, it was for a reason. No one besides me, Bug, and our mama knew he was lying, and he expected it to stay that way.

“I still can't believe they did that to you,” Mercy said, shaking her head. “I’m glad Uncle Ruben got them.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled in response. I wasn’t trying to have the same conversations again. The less I talked about it, the better; that way, I didn’t have to remember what I lied about.

The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut made me look up. Our other cousin, Judge, stood by the door, a science book in his hand and a mug on his face. He glared at me, his brow going up as he pushed his big glasses back up his nose. “Krude is in there singing,” he sighed. “I’m tired of listening to the Lion King soundtrack.”

“I thought he broke that tape,” Mercy said with a laugh.

“Madea bought him another one,” he mumbled as he stomped down the steps and walked past us. “All I keep hearing is him singing. My ears hurt.”

Even though I didn’t want to laugh, I did. Judge was a grumpy old man, or at least that’s what Madea called him. He always complained about Krude, but he never let anyone else say anything negative about him. They were opposites: Judge serious, Krude silly. But they were always together; if you saw one, everyone knew that the other wasn’t too far behind.

“I heard he asked Madea for a fanny pack for his birthday,” Mercy said as she went back to dribbling. “His mama is going to get it for him.”

“You think so?” Judge asked with renewed interest. I shrugged, and Mercy nodded. “I’m going to save my money just in case she doesn’t.” Judge pulled out a small notebook and pen from his back pocket, wrote something down, and then put them away. “I have fifty dollars saved up already. That should cover it, but just in case it doesn’t, I’ll save up a little bit more.”

“How did you get fifty dollars?” Mercy asked.

“I beat up the Kilmore brothers,” Judge answered with a smile.

“Why?”