A debt has been incurred. And they've come to collect.
Vanessa Cruz is a young black woman, simply trying to survive in a world set up to conspire against her prosperity. Grinding Monday to Friday, and working Friday to Sunday left her no room to h...
ANGELO's MOODLIST What Happened 2 U? - Usher Song Cry - JAY Z Ain't No Sunshine - Bill Withers Sly - Galamatias Pyramids - Frank Ocean Fela Kuti - Lady
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When I touched down I knew something big had happened. Eyes were on me as soon as I set foot on the asphalt.
My knuckles were still healing from the fight I had Vin, but I couldn't help flexing them. I could feel they was about to be on some bullshit and I was not in the mood. I had a very angry woman to get back to.
During my time away, regret replaced every blood cell in my body. There were so many moments I could have, should have stopped. After the argument we had the night before, I shouldn't have even dragged her out, especially after she made it so abundantly clear she didn't want to go.
I shouldn't have drank, and I sure as hell shouldn't have called her out of her name, in front of company nonetheless. That was the biggest sore point for me. I swore to protect her, and yet, she suffered the greatest injustice at my hands.
At this point, I was willing to do anything to make her forgive me.
It was crazy, because I wouldn't have let anyone else smack the fuck out of me, let alone attempt my life twice and then spend a solid ten minutes calling me everything but what my mother named me. But I loved her and I knew I deserved some of it. And there would be no way for us to move forward if she didn't voice her growing resentment of me out. She would need to apologise too; for getting so out of hand, because she did entirely too much. And with enough luck, we'd be able to get past this.
Hours were spent, playing everything she said, over and over again. I wasn't even aware of half of her grievances with me.
Why didn't she tell me?
She did. I just didn't listen.
The part that hurt me the most was her admitting she didn't want a child with me because she didn't want one like me. At first, I was ready to call it quits when those words found my ears. But deep down, I knew I didn't want a child like me either. Whenever I pictured our future, our kids would look like her and have her demeanour and disposition. I didn't recognise the level of cognitive dissonance that was at play here.
If I had been doing the work that she so often implored me to do, I might have stood a chance to recognising the beginnings of deep seated self-loathing. That discovery wouldn't be one I would make for years to come.
Shaking those thoughts away, I focused on the task at hand.
As I approached the bodies of Guido, Vince and Raymond stood around a table, they got bigger, filling more and more of my vision. It contained a map, that was obscured by a piece of luggage.
