BLOGGER TEMPLATES AND TWITTER BACKGROUNDS »

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Choke Back.

'Yo!! Your girls says she sick man! What's up with your bitch?"
I hear, as the bedroom door squeals on it's cheap hinges. Babyface bounding forward violently, his body thin and sharp, the white beater hanging from his torso, like rags on a scare crow. They've been smoking crack and talking for the past half  hour. All the air in my lungs seizes up, and I have no idea what to say. From behind him, I see She coming through the bedroom doorway, and run into the bathroom. Babyface staring at me, eyes wide and yellowed, the crack pipe jutting out from the fist of his hand, lighter in the other.
"Let me go talk to her." I say, standing up to face him, and he gives me the go ahead. I knock on the door three times, before she tells me she'll be out in a minute, keeping it locked. Then suddenly, she starts to dry heave. I can hear it, loudly, from outside the door, and it's clearly an act. This is like, the worst thing she could do. Completely predictable, and embarrassingly unconvincing. I knock on the door one more time, before Babyface loses his temper. It's sharp and intimidating, piercing through her immature theatrics and I can't breathe. His bark is like a vacuum, swiftly inhaling the air from my lungs.
"That bitch better stop playin' sick, and make my money back!" All the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My hands begin to tremble. The mind racing for defense. Overwhelming itself in its hysteria. I knock on the door again, my voice nervously abrupt, and she lets me in this time. Her face is soaked with tears, the eyes swollen and puffed out pink.
"I don't want to do it anymore Ang," she whispers through the teeth that are chewing at her nails. The eyes wide, darting back and forth, from me to the floor, and back again.
" What do you want me to do baby.." I say in frustration. A desperate tone, peppered with anger. " They know your faking it, that was so stupid. They're not dumb, they totally know. What the fuck do you want me to say now? If I tell them your not going out, they're gonna freak the fuck out.."  The tears brim over her lower eye lids, flowing quickly down her red hot cheeks, and she buries her face in her hands. The tips of her fingers vibrating, the pink tears of her cuticles, from the ferocious gnawing. Shes just shaking her head. That kind of tired sobbing, where words are useless, because your already screwed.
" K look, listen to me. Listen to me baby, " Grabbing her bear shoulders with my palms. The knot of the halter top, a tight bow, and it brushes against my fingers. She looks like a child in a hookers costume. Painfully awkward. Like a boy in tube top. " I'm going to tell them, your washing up, and I'm gonna help you get ready. I'll say your feeling better. That your gonna shower, and get dressed. After your done showering, we'll go in the bedroom to get ready, hopefully I can convince them to let me help you. Then we'll take off out the  window." The moment it comes out of my mouth, she recoils. Her eyes wide and skeptical. I grab her hand in mine, and she rips it back.
" There's no way they're gonna let us go in the bedroom alone," her voice travelling into a low whisper. "They already don't trust me Ang," The defeat in her voice irritates me, and I'm getting pissed.
" Look, pretending to be sick all night, and playing bullshit games is only gonna get our asses kicked!! Just do what I say, we'll get out. Please just trust me, and stop with the sick routine. It's just making it worse..okay? I'm gonna go out there and tell them your gonna shower and then we're getting ready.." Before she can protest, a loud knock on the door interrupts us.
"YO!" The two of us, cringing and reeling from the door. The seething whore monger, high on crack behind it.
"YO!! unlock the fucking door! What are you bitches doing?!" I reach out and turn the handle, unlocking the push button with a lame click, and he blows through. Grabs me by the arm with those claw like hands, and jerks me out into the hall.
"What are you doing bitch?" he spits at She. "You know what happens to little bitches that take advantage of my generosity don't chu? I go out of my way, in my good nature to help you, and this is how you play me? You think I'm fucking stupid or something?" He's leaning in the door way like a conniving vulture. The bulbous head, the gaunt neck, protruding Adam's apple. Backing her in that tiny cubicle space. " You know what Im'ma have to do, Im'ma have to fuck you for that money bitch! It's gonna go down. Or you get your ass out on the street, and change my mind, you hear me girl? Do you fucking hear me?"  The blood drains from my face. The muscles of my chest seizing shut, holding in the spastic beating of my panic stricken heart.
Violent red images parade through my mind.
A flood of rage, and hatred engulfs my thoughts.
I see myself stabbing him repeatedly with a kitchen knife.
Coming to a halting defeat, as I remember the other man in the room with me.
The hard corner of the coffee table.
The acknowledgement of my vulnerability next to Lebs prosecuting glare.
Hovering behind me, ready to choke back.
A blast of cold air runs through my spine.
Trapped.

0 comments: