Clouded Soul

21

It was weird being in the same room as Marcus and Dominic. I was pretty sure Dominic knew about me and Marcus. He wouldn't look at Marcus and he barely looked over at me. Was he not going to ever look at me the same again? Was he mad?

"You know Isaiah was way out of line," Dominic said looking over at me finally.

"He was right though." I sigh.

"No because he called you out of your name on some shit he didn't even know about. Honestly I don't care what you and Marcus did, were not dating. You ain't call me a hoe on my birthday did you?" He eyed me and folded his arms across his chest.

I shook my head remembering Iyanna from the bar.

"Okay then. I'm not mad so stop looking like you're about to cry, crybaby ass," he joked.

I rolled my eyes at him.

"So what about Isaiah?"

"We left him to get his head straight," Marcus said.

I looked at Marcus. He was on his phone texting away. I was curious as to what he was texting. I still felt awkward about the situation.

"I'm going to go shower," I say getting up.

"I gotta head out also. My brother needs help watching our other siblings. See ya," Marcus said waving goodbye to both me and Dominic.

I waved back and Dominic nodded his head laying down on the couch. As I made my way up the stairs, Dominic called my name.

"How'd your dad get in jail," Dominic asked randomly.

I frowned and turned to look at him.

"I...I'm going to go shower," I say avoiding his question.

"Look it can't be that bad if you go to visit him. Why not just tell me," he asked.

"I might be a while..." I said skipping up the stairs.

He let out a heavy sigh and I just kept walking until I got upstairs to his room. I grabbed some underwear, sweats, and my old field day shirt from elementary. I'm so small I can still wear my elementary clothes.

I walked into the bathroom and started stripping.

...

I hadn't been on my period but I felt like I was on it. My stomach was killing me and it didn't make any sense. Dominic was downstairs cooking, but I was in so much pain that I had to call him.

"DOM!"

He came running into the room looking around for some type of danger. I groaned and held my hand out towards him. When he saw me, he rushed over concerned.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying, Mercy," he asked pulling me over into his chest.

"My stomach hurts really bad," I mumble.

"You want me to rub your stomach," he asked unsure of what to do.

I nodded. He rubbed my stomach and I sighed. The pain didn't go away but it wasn't as bad as before. As he kept rubbing my stomach,he ran his finger over a scar near my chest. I flinched and he looked at me confused.

"What's that," he asked trying to lift my shirt.

I swat his hand away and get up, hunching over, holding my stomach. The pain came back almost immediately. He started rubbing my stomach again sighing.

"Alright I'm sorry. You want to try and go eat," he asked.

"I guess," I groan.

He walks over and picks me up, carrying me to the kitchen. When he sat me down he went fixed our plates and sat down in front of me.

Like before with the sandwich, he watched me as I took my first bite of everything. I didn't care because the food was helping my stomach.

"You like it," he asked rubbing his neck.

"Mhm it's really good. Thank you, Dominic."

He scoffed which made me look at him in confusion.

"You can't call me that no more. You gotta keep calling me Dom from now on," he said smirking.

"But why?"

"It sounds cute when you call me Dom. Makes me feel like a real nigga," he said causing us both to bust out laughing.

"Stop using that word," I said after I stopped laughing.

"Why?" He wipes the sides if his mouth.

"Look it's complicated," I sigh.

"Like the story about your dad," he said slyly.

I roll my eyes and stuff my mouth with food so I won't have to talk. Why does he want to know about my dad so much? Why couldn't he just drop it?

"My dad is none of your business," I snap.

"Wow. I told you about mines when I've never talked about him with anyone else," he said glaring at me.

He stood from the table. I start feeling guilty again.

"Where are you going," I ask pouting a little.

"To my room. Is there a problem?"