"W-We just t-talked the o-other day bruh." He choked out.
"I know baby."
They had literally just made up.
It was like the universe knew what was to come, what was to be the woman's fate, and wanted them to be on good terms before she left. The night before her death, they had just been laughing over the scrap book that he had been making in the kitchen, eating wings on the table. Sheyaa explained all the pictures he had taken so far, what had been happening at that very moment in the photos. He had been so excited to be documenting the pregnancy and she shared his enthusiasm, almost spilling ranch on the book in the process. And despite her tired work exhausted eyes, she had been so happy, so full of life.
His mind flashed back to her lifeless brown globes that had been covered by white sheets seconds afterwards at the scene of the crime and he buried his head further into Kentrell's thigh, shaking as more tears fell.
They said that God didn't make mistakes, and if he called you back home, it was your time.
But Sheyaa still couldn't help but feel like it wasn't her time.
He needed a drink.
~
When he eventually did muster the courage to go back home, his body led him to the liquor cabinet, which was full and plentiful. When Sheyaa got in these moods, which was rare nowadays, he drunk. Brown eyes looked over which poison he could pick, which drink would make his throat burn the best, make him forget his worries for a couple hours.
The bottle of Jack Daniels looked tempting, and he grabbed it. It wasn't open; his mom didn't even drink, she just liked to keep the choices in the house for when they had people over.
He somberly walked over to the couch, sitting down and opening the bottle. Across from him, a picture frame of the now deceased woman sat on the coffee table, smiling at Sheyaa.
He slowly nursed that whole bottle that night on the chair, tears streaming down his face and mind becoming fuzzy until he blacked out.
~
If people were avoiding him before, they most definitely were doing so now.
He couldn't even be sad about the situation anymore because he was angry. His thoughts were dark and gloomy, his vision was red. Someone was going to pay for his mothers death, and they were going to pay in blood.
Period.
He stalked down the hallways, Kentrell holding his hand, the smaller man bucking at those who dared to look at them.
"I don't wanna be here." He mumbled, turning the corner. The black travel coffee mug in his free hand was warm, and he took a large chug of it, feeling the liquid burn as it went down his throat.
"Lemme have some." Kentrell made grabby hands at the mug and Sheyaa pulled it away from him.
"Nah, you good." The taller man mumbled and he took another swing.
Kentrell raised an eyebrow at him and Sheyaa sighed, twisting the lid off, before holding the cup under the shorter man's nostrils. The man pulled back, shaking his head a little, and holding his nose.
"Damn nigga, what the fuck? How much you put in there?"
"...Half the bottle." That unopened bottle of Henessey had just seemed to be calling his name that morning.
Kentrell frowned and immediately snatched the mug from Sheyaa.
"Kentrell, give me my shit back-"
Chapter 10
Start from the beginning
