I woke up to death. Grandpa and Grandma was in the living room discussing all the people who recently died or was about to die.
"People dropping out like flies," Grandma said.
"Soon it'll be my time," Grandpa said.
I stayed in bed a little longer, willing myself to sleep. Sometimes, I wished someone would only wake me up when grandpa gets better or after grandpa dies or maybe not at all.
Reluctantly, I got out of bed. I walked as quietly as I could but Grandma noticed me before I even entered the living room.I swore she had a 7th sense. I already established that she had a 6th one years ago.
"Good morning, Sandy."
"Good morning," I replied as I entered the living room,trying to hastily exit into the kitchen.
"Good morning, did you hear that Pan died from cancer?"
Darn, I was too slow.
"No," I replied. I knew I couldn't just walk out of the living room now. Grandma continued
"Yuh know di big body woman whey live with Ms.Jackson husband and dem sey shi obeah ...."
I cut her short,knowing no matter what she said I would never remember who she's speaking of.
"I don't know her."
"Di same one wid di bulby eye," Grandma started up again.
"Mi soon drop out tuh," Grandpa cut in.
A dead minute passed among us.
"Will you miss us,grandpa? Or are we a part of this earthly torture? Do you care that we'll cry? Do you think we want you to die?" My tongue wouldn't relent.This tongue never listened to my mind when I most needed it to.
"Where's the grandpa I knew?" I almost shouted.
All that remained was a ghost of grandpa.His clothes were now too big, his eyes were sunk in.
"Sas Criss, you only have Diabetes 2.It is not the end of the bomboclaat world.It is manageable. You can live with it for as long as non-diabetic people do, even longer," I finally finished my rant.
Grandma always said "Misery loves company". Right now, Misery and I were sipping Sorrel Tea.
My grandparents for the first time in my entire 18 years of living on this little big world, were speechless. I would have gotten away with this type of talk when I was younger but they vow to spare the rod when I turned 16. I was, in the words of Vybz Kartel 'untouchable' and my mouth was now a 'runaway train'.
"Ahhhh!" Someone screamed. A commotion started outside. The din killed the elephant in the room.
"Pepper har," someone bellowed.
"She a ho," another said.
We all sprinted outside. A girl who seems to be 3 years my junior was being carried by two men. One held her arms, another her feet like cuffs.
She struggled but could not break free. She was screaming and crying. In no time, we got wind of why she was being carried like a slave.
She had sex with a 21 year old man. They caught them in the romping shop.They already dragged and beat the man with a shovel. Now, it was her time for trial.
The jury have already condemned her.
"Di bitch affi open har legs like clothes pin," Shirly who had 7 kids and 7 baby daddies said.
"Teach har a lesson," a bleachas chimed in. No one person was for this little girl.
They pinned her to a light pole,pulled her legs apart and poured the Pickle Pepper in her vagina. She cried until no tears remained.The jury kept cheering.
If I had a gun, I would shoot them but that would mean killing my family too.
I walked away from the scene and looked at my feeble hands. Where was our superhero when we needed one?
