Black and Blue: The Storm

3.

If she knows what I know, she'd leave that nigga where he's at. He likes to make babies and leave the mama to raise 'em. Goofy ass nigga.

I furrowed my brows and handed Zena her phone back, "them muthafuckas talking crazy. Talking about I make babies and leave them with the mama. Fuck is they talking about? That's why I don't do that social media bullshit. People can be who they want to be and talk as crazy as they want to talk, because they're hiding behind a screen."

"That's social media for you, babe. Don't let it get to you, they're just trolls."

"It's not getting to me, it's just scary how wild imaginations run on the internet."

———
1:24 AM

I ferociously banged my fist against the locked door, in an attempt to stop the ordeal that was unfolding before. The small area of glass was my only insight as to what was going on, within the four walls. With tears pricking my eyes, I watch Nyla lie helplessly, on what I presumed to be a cold operating table, with her lips quivering and her body trembling. "Mama, you don't have to do this. Open the fucking door," I bellowed, my palm wrecking into the glass, with every ounce of strength I could muster.

The doctor spread Nyla's legs wide, positing himself in between. I dug my fingernails into my scalp, crouching over, grunting with loss of hope. Why can't they hear me? With heavy breathing, my shoulders elevating and descending with rhythm, i cocked my arm back, sending my greatest blows into the glass, repeatedly. The stinging throbs of my bleeding and bruised knuckles were no match to the gut wrenching pain that traveled from the pit of my stomach, to the deepest part of my heart, where my love for Nyla lives.

The doctor grabbed a pair of forceps and my eyes widened, "no, no, no." I shook the door handle with every ounce of strength that I had, panic circulating through every vessel within my body. The door unforgiving, with no trace of mercy. I couldn't hear Nyla but I could read her lips, my name spilling from her mouth, in question of my whereabouts, while tears roamed down her cheeks at an immeasurable pace, mirroring those of my own.

"I'm here, mama, I swear to fucking God, I'm right here." Defeat laced my tone. The nurse stroked Nyla's hair, while the doctor inserted the unswayed and dispassionate instrument inside of her. Her hands clenched the sheet that lie under her and with her mouth dilated, ear piercing screams seep from underneath the door. I fell to my knees and tossed my head back, my heart pounding and my head aching, "I've never asked you for anything. Take it out on me, but please, not my baby, not my fucking woman. I'll lay my life down right here, right now. Just save her. Save them."

The door open, sending my view over my shoulder. "Congratulations, Mr. Davis. It's a baby girl," the doctor turned the baby around. The horrific sight of her missing eyes, disfigured mouth, and underdeveloped nose sent me stumbling back, scurrying into the nearest wall. 

I opened my eyes, sweat dripping down my face. At my left, Zena sleep peacefully, her chest rising up and down with each breath that she took. Tossing the cover off of me, I rose to my feet, and ambled to the bathroom. I looked into the mirror, my reflection starting back at, while I recalled the nightmare that I hadn't had in over a year.

---

7:42 PM

Nyla B.