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oles out. He’s in back of me fumblin’ with his buckle. He yanks up my robe. I’m so thankful I ain’t shitted on myself yet. And for once I wish I had on some drawers. Shit, two pairs.
Yes, the niggah got me shook. But I ain’t gonna let him know it. And I ain’t tryna let this nigga just take my ass or cut out my pussy without one last good fight. A hood bitch knows how’ta play possum and she knows how’ta say and do whatever she needs to to stay alive. I still got babies to raise. And I ain’t tryna miss seein’ Da’Quan graduate from college or see Marquelle make it to the NBA. And I need to see how Day’Asia turns out. If she’s gonna end up bein’ a hot trash ho, or a classy one. I need to see how Isaiah, Elijah, Joshua and the twins gonna turn out. And I don’t want they goddamn fahvers raisin’ them, or some other bitches. So, noooo, I gotta do whatever I gotta do to keep this nigga from killin’ me.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
“What bitch?”
I repeat myself. Tell him how this pussy’s always been his. How my ass is his. How my throat is his. I tell the niggah what he wants to hear. Gas the niggah’s head up with a buncha goddamn lies. But what do I care? All I wanna do is get my hand on one of my blades. The ones I have stuffed on both ends of the sofa on the side of each cushion. Or the one under the sofa.
He punches me in the back of the head again. This niggah’s fists are like lead pipes. “I know you are, bitch,” he growls in my ear. The nigga bites me. “Why you make me have’ta fuck you up, yo. I warned ya muthafuckin’ ass. You lucky I don’t blow ya muthafuckin’ head off.”
He starts grindin’ his hard dick on me. I toot my ass up. “Fuck me,” I whisper through bloody lips. I know this niggah’s crazed, but I gotta play along. Darius, where the fuck are you, boo?! I’m hopin’ like hell he gets here before this nigga rapes and kills me.
“Fuck me,” I whisper again, stretchin’ my arms out across the sofa. My right hand slips down along the side of the sofa. “Give me the dick, baby.”
My head is poundin’ and I feel sick to my stomach. But I ain’t tryna get raped. I’d rather give this pussy away; would rather invite the niggah to some ass. Not let this crazy niggah take it. I pump my hips.
“Yeah, that’s right. Beg for this dick, bitch.” He slaps me on the ass, then bites me on both asscheeks, hard. I wince. The niggah thinks it’s a sign that I’m lovin’ the shit. He bites me again. “I’ma fuck you real good, bitch.”
“Yesss, ffffuck mmmeeee . . . ”
I feel for my blade. Panic hits me when I don’t feel it. I keep feelin’ for it. Prayin’. Ohmygod, one of them goddamn kids done moved my shit. If I get outta this shit alive, I’ma fuck ’em up.
I slip my hand under the cushion and there it is. Thank you, Gawd. Darius, where da fuck are you, niggah?! I wind my hips up at him.
“Ffffuck mmmeeee . . . ” I beg him to eat my ass, then feed me the dick. This seems to turn the niggah on more.
“Yeah, I’ma eat that ass out, then fuck da shit outta you. You want me to fuck da shit outta you, bitch?”
“Yessss.” I grip the handle of my blade, slowly pullin’ my hand from under the cushion. He bites me on the ass again. This time breakin’ skin. I gasp.
“Yeah, you like that shit, don’t you, slut?”
“Yessss. Oh, yesss.” It hurts to speak, but I gotta push through the pain. I hear him in back of me fumblin’ with his pants ’til he finally pulls out his hard dick. “You tell anybody ’bout this and I’ma fuckin’ kill you, then have ya muthafuckin’ kids bodied.”
My heart aches. I grip the blade. He punches me. “Bitch, you hear me talkin’ to you?”
“Yes. I-I-I hear you, boo. I ain’t . . . gggonna say nothin’. Eat my ass, baby, then ffffuck me . . . ”
“Yeah, that’s right, bitch! Beg for this shit.”
He pulls open my asscheeks. My stomach rumbles. My head, neck, and back ache. I am sore and goddamn bruised. “Ohh, yesss . . . ”
The niggah puts his face between my booty cheeks. I wait. Count in my head. He is lickin’ the rim of my ass, then stickin’ it in my hole. I moan. He eats my ass like it’s gonna be his last meal and my last time breathin’. Shit splashes outta me. It gets in his mouth, all in his face.
“What da fuck! Aaagh, bit—” I swing my arm backward, plungin’ my knife into his stomach, then knock him off’a me. The niggah gasps, clutchin’ his wound. And I feel a surge of energy rush through me as blood is seepin’ through his fingers. This niggah was gonna do me good. I can barely see outta my eye, but I can see enough to know I got his ass good. Shit is oozin’ outta my ass and runnin’ all down my legs. I got diarrhea, bad. But I don’t give a fuck. I kick him in his chest and he falls backward. I run into my coat closet and grab my baseball bat and start beatin’ him with it. I am swingin’ ’n shittin’ all over myself at the same time.
I grit my teeth and grunt through the pain. I can barely move my mouth. “Nigga-bitch, boom, boom! Thought you was gonna do me, huh, nigga? Whose pussy you gonna cut out now, niggah?” Whack! I crack him in his face. Blood splatters everywhere. “You beat the wrong . . . ” Whack! “ . . . bitch, niggah!” He groans. “You gonna die, niggah! You tried to leave me dead, bitch!” Whack! “I’ma slice ya dick off, coon-niggah-bitch, and send it to ya wife!”
His limp dick is hangin’ there waitin’. I lean over him, then squat over his face and shit all in his face. I ain’t callin’ no goddamn cops. I’ma handle this niggah on my own. This isn’t how shit was ’posed to go down, but the niggah got me flippin’ the script. And the niggah gotta pay no matter which way you look at it. Either way, this coon-niggah-bitch had it comin’. I yank the knife outta his stomach. Blood spurts out. He gasps.
“Nigga, I don’t want you to die. I want you to live without this”—I take his dick in my hand—“this big, floppy dingaling. You tried to take my pussy, niggah! You wanted to do me, bitch!” I slice into his dick. “Now I’ma do you!” He jerks his head up, screamin’. His head falls back when he sees me slicin’ off his shit. He screams louder, then passes out.
“Yo, Ma!” Darius yells, racin’ through the door with Beetle behind him. They see all the blood and shit and this niggah’s dingaling sliced off. “Fuck! What da fuck happen, yo?!” He’s pacin’ the floor like a mad man. “What da fuck this nigga try to do to you, yo?!” He stomps him. “Niggah, what you try to do to my moms, yo?! Answer me, bitch?! You put ya muthafuckin’ hands on my moms, niggah?” He stomps him in his head.
JT ain’t movin’. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive. And I don’t give a fuck. All I know is I gotta get this dickless niggah up outta here and get this blood ’n shit cleaned up before my kids get home. Beetle eyes me as if he’s readin’ my thoughts, grabbin’ Darius.
“Yo, man. We gotta get this niggah up outta here, yo, fast.”
