The One She Loved

Chapter twenty-one,

Dante shook his head, quickly throwing his hands up in defense. "Nothing, I just...I just didn't think she would associate wit' anyone from our family. Surprised the fuck out of me when I found out," he said, scratching the side of his neck. "Are you happy wit' her?"

"Again, what the fuck that gotta do wit' you?"

"Because like you said, I got you into some bullshit and it's fuckin' wit' you. I can see it all over yo' face man, you stressed out. Whether you believe it or not, I care—"

Asanté shot up from his seat, his fists balled up. "Now you fuckin' care!?" his voice boomed off the walls of the small room. The guards stood at the door, but Dante immediately shook his head at them, indicating to them to stay out of it.

"You care now!? Where the fuck was yo' compassion when I was a kid?! When Amira disappeared?! Our family been through so much shit because you, bruh!" Asanté yelled at him, clenching his fists tighter, that his nails were starting to dig into his skin.

"Every other fuckin' day I got folks retaliating against me and wanting to attack me because of shit you did! I get fuckin' triggered when folks ask me if I'm yo' brother—my fight or flight fuckin' kicks in! I shouldn't have to live that fuckin' way!"

"You the one who was out here being a menace to the streets, yet mama treats you like the fuckin' golden child while I'm given the scraps! I'm doing better than you and that's still not enough for her! The one time that Asanté fucked up, I got kicked out wit' no hesitation—you? You got to sleep comfortably at home in yo' bed every time after all yo' fuck ups!"

"All the good I do is overshadow by the fucked up shit you did! Nine years later and now you want to act like you care—let me put something in perspective for you, bro," Asanté paused and placed his hands on the table, leaning forward to get into Dante's face. "You gone be the one responsible if I end up in the dirt. And I pray to God that shit eats at yo' conscience every fuckin' second you in this bitch,"

Dante swallowed hard as he stared into Asanté's dark orbs. The little brother he had left behind as a child had been mentally and emotionally damaged.

His brother was angry, rightfully so.

Witnessing the drained, broken boy in front of him actually troubled Dante. His actions had taken such a toll on Asanté that if it weren't for the guards being around, he probably would have choked him out.

And Asanté wasn't a violent person.

Dante got up and attempted to wrap his arms around Asanté, instead he was shoved back. "Get the fuck off me," Asanté mugged him, his chest heaving up and down. "I came here because my friends—friends I look at as brothers, they told me to come see you about this shit. That maybe—maybe you could be useful for once and help me,"

"I can help you, Tay," Dante offered.

Asanté scoffed a laugh, gesturing his hand at the jumpsuit that Dante wore. "You can't do shit—look what you wearing man, look where you at," he looked around the room, holding one hand out. "How the fuck could you possibly help me from here? Hm?"

"I-" Dante abruptly stopped, exhaling noisily through his nose. He glanced over at the guards that were talking amongst themselves. "I still got pull in the streets, just give me a few days, I'll get you out of this," he spoke lowly enough for Asanté to hear.

"Whatever man," Asanté started to walk away from the table, until Dante grabbed his arm. Again, Asanté snatched away from him, shoving him back. "Put yo' fuckin' hands on me again and I'ma send yo' ass back to yo' cell wit' a bashed in face,"