Seize

Going Crazy

Something cold was touching my neck. I didn't know what it was and I couldn't move. I couldn't even open my eyes. I just laid there still hearing voices in the background. Unsure of what was being said in Spanish. I wanted to cry but for some reason I couldn't wake up. Slowly I drifted off again. I silently whimpered to myself.

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"Wake up!" I felt a slap to the right side of my face and tried to open my eyes. I still couldn't. I felt cold water being poured on me and jolted my eyes open. I looked up at a Mexican man standing over me, the same one that had knocked me out. His face torn up into an ugly snarl. I quickly tried to catch my breath and get up from the ground. I looked down at my hands that were chained on either side of my body and so were my legs. Panic slowly crept up my face when I noticed that I lay inside of a cage, on the floor, and with NO CLOTHES on.

The mexican man looked all over my body and I just closed my eyes. It's always me! Maybe I should've been a hoodrat when I was younger. At least I would know what to expect and I would be use to it. Pac was the only man I wanted to ever hump on. As the mexican continued to scowl at me I closed my eyes and started to cry. I kept thinking of Pac with all his tattoos, his beard, and his soft calloused hands.

"What do you want?" I whispered my voice low and cracked. I was thirsty and definitely starving.

He knelt down to me and rubbed his hand across my breast. "You chunky thing . Where is the man Pack at?"

"I don't know! They left me at home." I closed my eyes again and shook my head.

Slap. My face burned and stung from the impact. I cried harder. "I don't know anything. They never told me anything."

"Well you better start to remember everything that they did tell you because if not your not going to enjoy this part very much." A new male voice said. I tried to turn in the direction of the voice, to look at him but could see only some very expensive shoes. His face was covered by the darkness and he was not sitting very far from were I lay. Watching me, roaming his eyes over my body, the right leg propped up over the left one. His head laying on his hand, simply looking bored.

" Curro, get the knives from the wall." His voice was hard, lacking any type of emotion, and strong. He definitely was not one to play with. Curro stood and grabbed the large bloody machete off of the wall. "You know Vase, we've been looking for your family for a long time. Did you know that your father use to work for me?"

I shook my head no as I kept my eyes closed. I cried and then instantly thinking more about my current situation I cried harder.

"Back in the day your father, Jarius Thompson, was a highly respected young man in New Orleans. He'd worked his way up from the slums and always did what was necessary. I found him when he was a kid. Showed him the ropes, got him into slanging dope, and into the streets to make money. Back then he did everything I ever told him to do. " He chuckled a little bit.

"One day after having him go in for an OP mission to kill a rival gang, he did everything that he needed to do but found the mans son. This negro boy was maybe three years old, maybe four, but Jarius brung him to me telling me that everyone else was gone and he needed a home. I told that punta to shoot the little motherfucker." He readjusted his self in the chair to sit up straight and pull lint from his jacket.

"You know what he told me when I told him that, eh?"

I just laid there. On the cold floor in what looked like some medieval torture room, with a big huge mexican asshole standing over me, and listening to a story I could give two fucks about! Hell no, I didn't know what he said because I wasn't there dumb ass! Even though I clearly wanted to scream that out in between my prayers for my death to be swift or for some GI jo type of men to come up in here and smack his ass around and save me. I didn't say anything. I couldn't. At that moment, any words leaving my mouth would have been a direct assault and probably result in a painful death for me.

He wasn't paying any attention and continued on," He told me that he wanted out. He wanted to move on with his life. He'd take the little negro punta and make a new life somewhere else." He busted out laughing. I glanced up at him. I mean full fledge laughing. You know the kind where your eyes water and you bend over slapping your knee, barely able to breathe? Yeah, that kind. Something was wrong with this motherfucka for real.

"He packed up that night ya know? " He wiped the corners of his eyes.

"Packed up and left. I gave him a head start. I let him think he would get rid of me. Let him feel like he got away from us. Hmph, from his family. A couple of days went by and I got a call from one of our other operations in Tennessee. Jarius had come and picked up our shipment early and was to head back with it. Only he was never coming back. I hadn't told anyone that he would need to be killed yet. I guess I treated him more like a son. A son I'd still kill anyway." He chuckled again.

"You know I wasn't all that upset with him at first. He'd never been the type to take more than what was owed to him. But do you know what that MOTHERFUCKA took? He took my $250,000 in cash AND my top sales person. Ya momma. " He laughed again.

"He took the person that was sleeping around with the men that would buy my dope and sell it. I mean he took a hoe, better yet a junkie. Ya momma was a hoe. Did you know that?So the real reason I went after him was because she was my hoe and that was MY money. Anyone who dares steal from me and then turn around and take my woman, eh? That pussy motherfucka had to die. For the longest time though my men couldn't find him. He was smart." He leaned forward, face still covered by the darkness but he used his fingers and tapped on his temple area.

"He lost my men and for a few years I lessened the search. Then out of the blue one day he turns up in my driveway. Yelling, screaming for me to open the door. Mi migos roughed him up a little bit but I came down to ask him what the hell he wanted. He said that if he turned hisself in, he wouldn't be endangering his family anymore. Family...hahah that was funny as hell. Reminds me of a joke ya know? What do you call a dead man, a hoe, and negro punto on the run? Dead, thats what!"

He got up from the chair and walked towards me. I could clearly see his face now. He was only about five ten. His hair black and cut short, his face was average. A grey mustache over his top lip, warm brown eyes, and a chiseled jaw line.

"Guess I'll start with you what I couldn't finish with your mother." I turned my face away from his and cried as I realized I damn sure would not make it out of this unscathed atleast.