Moodlist
Forgive Me - ChloexHalle
DON'T HURT YOURSELF- Beyoncé
Needed Me - Rihanna
Plan B - Megan Thee Stallion
Hood Bitch - Ms Banks
Beyoncé's Lemonade was a masterpiece. A true labour of love, sent in a ribbon that only black girls would open all the way. I cried, profusely, when I first watched the film with Malia. I had heard the music before in passing, but there was something monumental about falling feet first into the universe she created.
I felt like I was her, when she jumped off that building, leap of faith style. Her hands were open, reaching out for God and their guidance. And for her blind faith she was rewarded. As opposed to coming to a pulpy end on the pavement of a busy city, she fell into a body of water and began a rebirth. Coming back into a new phase of life, as an infinitely stronger woman, because the old version died from the impact of the new information she received.
I didn't know it, but she was granting me a glimpse into my immediate future, playing out my fate, frame by frame.
All I could see on the first watch, was my story so far, embedded within the arc of the one she was building. There was layer after layer and it took me almost 20 watches to try and catch them all. The part that stuck out to me immediately though, was the interpolation of Warsaw Shire's How To Wear Your Mother's Lipstick.
The British-Somali woman's words were read to us by the weary voice of Houston's own. It told a story of a girl trying her best to look like her mom. Not knowing that in doing so she world inherit the bad part as well as the beauty.
My relationship with my mom was complicated. Angelo was the only one who truly knew the extent of my turmoil. I understood logically, the sequence of events that led her to become the woman she was today. I understood the emotional manipulation and later violence that was at play.
But on an emotional level, I was hurt. Not only because that couldn't protect me the way she swore to when she laid in bed with my newborn form, whispering little secrets to me that I knew now, but couldn't remember. I was hurt that the flame of a young woman had been snuffed out to the glowing of a candle wick, waiting for a bit of oxygen to reignite.
I swore I wouldn't be like her. I had vision, resilience, and bravery after all. I made a way.
It was easy because I didn't look like her. Although I once desired nothing more than to be her splitting image, when I grew old enough to understand, I stopped trying to form myself in her image, decidedly striving to become my own person. And it almost worked; until I met Angelo.
See the thing is, as hard to believe was it is now, my mom once had all of those things. A girl trying to get the best spot on the hill to get a piece of the view. She had come to the US by herself after all. Not something for the faint of heart. She was good, even great, until she fell into the hands of a man that made her think that being with him was the best her life would get.
I was sat in front of my vanity, putting the final touches on my soft glam look for that godforsaken party. And all I could see was my mothers features, just like the poem, which I had never recognised before.
The disappointment she wore so beautifully, like a complexion. The regret that stained her lips as if she drank it everyday. Eyes, lined with sadness, and cheeks blushed with the remnants of youthful joy. It clicked. I was her.
In fact, I was every woman. Capable of the same greatness and complacency of them all.
Although not related, I caught brief glimpses of Miss Monique too. Her loneliness coated my lashes. Her missed opportunities contoured my bone structure. Time spent waiting filled my brows.
When he spoke to me, the tone implied that this was the best I could do. That being with him was a privilege.
And I agreed.
I never voiced it out but in that moment his face found itself next to mine in the reflection of the mirror, I realised that he had set a ceiling for me. And I was starting to hit it.
I'd set my intention a long time ago, and remained steadfast in achieving it. I never took my eye off it, even when he pushed me to my limit.
I wanted to be his perfect girl.
His complete equal, forged in his image. But while my vision was sharpening, as I willed the tears that found my eyes away, something that was previously invisible came into crystal sharp focus.
The woman he wanted was not me.
I could continue to contort myself; trying to be the wife he so desperately desired, for fear of losing him. Or I could become the truest, most whole iteration of myself yet, and exceed anything he ever thought me capable of, but leave him behind, buried in the skins I would shed to get there.
The thought was terrifying, but it didn't feel like I had long to make my decision.
The options in front on me were narrowing. I was doing what I did when I first got the message about the debt from Nesto. Whittling the possibilities down, trying to settle on the one most likely to occur.
Leaving seemed to be the most probable one.
I didn't want to though. I loved him too much. Almost more than myself at this point. Although he was making it unbearable to stay, the thought of leaving was inconceivable.
It would remain to be seen if the choice would stay in my hands.
Tonight was like Don't Hurt Yourself.
All I was missing was the long, blonde straightbacks and the fur. My energy was the same, dark, unexpected and ominous.
We all congregated in the foyer of his house, having flooded in from various vehicles.
He was still under the influence. Not enough to sway, but enough for thoughts to find their way to the ears they were intended for much easier.
The argument spilled over from the parking lot of the party. Bits and pieces of my private life had been filled in for the men in attendance against my will. My verbal responses were limited; short and clipped words, used to defend myself where I saw fit. I was exhausted at this point, and regretted talking Vince out of taking me to my apartment to let my man sleep off this rage off.
I couldn't help it though. Knowing we were on the outs, because of me and my misgivings made me nauseous with anxiety. I had to make sure we were okay. I couldn't bear the thought of him taking away the love and affection I had come to rely on.
In that moment, I was fed up. My face was stony, not letting my companions in on the anger that was starting to burn my chest cavity with its heat.
Angelo had his was of breaking my walls down, though. And before I knew it, I was engaging more, and we were immobilised by the urge to get the last word. Three sets of worried eyes watched on, waiting for the opportunity to cut in and mediate.
It wouldn't come.
We started getting loud, so I walked away, in search of cold air to alleviate the stress I was feeling.
Then, it happened.
And all of the men I loved were here, to witness my descent into madness.
"Don't fucking walk away from me when I'm speaking to you Vanessa! Remember what you owe me. $100k. You think cause you fucked me good enough to pay your debt that you don't have to do as I say anymore? You belong to me! TO ME, YOU HEAR ME? IF I DONT WANT YOU TALKING TO OTHER MEN, YOU WONT. IF I WANT YOU PREGNANT NEXT WEEK, YOU'LL HAVE THAT GODDAMN SHIT TAKEN OUT AND MAKE IT HAPPEN. DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME?" He roared like thunder, calling dark and heavy clouds to find their place over our heads. Instead of water, they would rain down blades, lacerating every inch of my skin.
The room seemed to darken, although none of the light fixtures had been manipulated.
My motions stilled, humiliation burning my nerve endings.
The heavy muscle in my rib cage started pounding, leaving me breathless without any physical exertion to warrant it.
At first, everything was silent. Then, my ears detected a low humming sound, that was gradually becoming louder. It sounded distant and foreign but a quick scan of the room revealed to me the source wasn't external. Adrenaline was spilled into my bloodstream, preparing me to the battle of my life. That, was the cause of the noise.
All of a sudden, the thin gown I wore felt like too much insulation, as my skin radiated heat from the vitriol I just had thrown at me. I could not believe my ears.
He said it.
He told everyone who's respect I cared about having that I had slept my way out of a six-figure debt. It wouldn't change the way they viewed me, but I was gutted they found anyway.
"What did you just say to me?" The question was quiet, but he heard me. I was secretly willing for him to take it back. He doubled down instead.
"Yeah, you heard me right. You're daddy's good little whor-"
SMACK.
I spun around and my hand flew across his cheek with force, silencing him. He could now see my eyes. They were as dark as usual, but there was a fire that he had ignited that would end up consuming the both of us.
Only 10 seconds had elapsed between the instance the last syllable left his mouth and when I slapped the taste out it. In that time, the current version of me died, falling victim to the fatal wound his words inflicted on me. But I was reborn, and re-emerged as a woman that was about to raise hell.
It was the kind of situation where someone had arsoned a house by pouring petrol around its perimeter, creating a tail to give them distance from the disaster. After dropping the match, they stay put to observe their handy work, and the flames start to engulf them in their inattentiveness.
I simply nodded and started walking backwards, slowly, posture promising he would get his. The smile on my face was not one of happiness. It was one of vengeance . I pointed my finger at him, speaking to myself lowly.
Mutterings of incredulity, and an oath to myself that I. Would. Get. My. Revenge.
You know the vibe, scorned woman.
I made a dash for the kitchen. The boys were paralysed in surprise, but I couldn't see their faces whilst I was moving so quickly.
I was on a mission.
They had only seen us get heated with each other that one time I should have let him kill himself by pressing the Russians. All of the things I did for him, were so easily forgotten. I needed to remind him.
The movements of my limbs were short and slightly uncoordinated. I was patting down the island and counter, looking for it.
Where the fuck is it?
Where the fuck is it?!
Where the fuck is it?!?
My eyes scanned the counters until I found it.
A knife block.
One of us was about to die here today. And wasn't going to be me.
Quickly kicking off my heels for a soundless approach, I grabbed the two largest, sharpest knives, and hid them behind my back, one in each hand. Then I made my way back to him. I'mma get his mothafuckin' ass.
He was currently turned away from me, running his hand down his face. He hadn't meant to say that to me or in front of company but the alcohol allowed an intrusive thought to become part of the record.
When I got close enough I started running, swinging my right arm up, poised to drive a knife through his back, right where his heart was. The same thing he had done to me tonight.
A symphony of chaos ensued.
There were gasps, shouts, shuffling of feet. I was so close, until I felt arms take a hold of my body and cause me to miss my target, instead slicing open the back of his Brioni Tux. He spun around in shock, to see me flailing around in Raymond's arms, demanding to be unhanded in English, then Russian.
He didn't oblige my request but I got free enough to throw the knife in my right hand at Angelo's wide-eyed face. He ducked, barely missing it. The metal of the knife clattered as it broke a decorative vase instead of his skull.
Raymond finally let me go; he had almost been stabbed by the backswing of the first attempt, and then again by my winding arm when I sent the weapon air bound. He wasn't about to risk his life to protect a man he now wanted to see dead or at least severely injured anyway.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING TO ANGELO? HUH?"
I am the dragon, breathing fire. Beautiful mane, I'm the lion.
I sounded like the soundwave of atomic bomb. None of them thought I had it in my body. But I had reached the edge of my sanity. He pushed and pushed and he finally did it. It was unbelievable even to me, that I had produced such a sound.
I was going nuclear.
It was all too much. We were in the last week of January, my birthday having just passed. I had nearly a year of my life stolen by this man.
Tonight he would pay every cent he owed me.
But first, I had a moment of clarity.
He broke the NDA.
I was giddy with excitement. My head tilted back, and mirthless laughter bubbled up my throat, spilling out without abandon. They all knew that wasn't shit funny, though.
But it was. All those months ago, a timid young girl asked for a back door clause in a legal agreement she had no business trying to read without counsel. Her bravery was what set me free.
He had told everyone present about the sexual nature of our relationship and thereby relieved me of my shackles.
And I was about to dance.
"You wanna tell these people I'm a whore? Okay let's tell the full story. Picture this my esteemed colleagues! A fifteen year old boy is in hospital with a Sickle Cell Crisis. He's kept overnight for observations and is awoken in the middle of the night by a man who threatens him about a debt that he had no knowledge of. The boy pees himself and doesn't sleep a wink, telling his 22 year old sister when she visits him the next day." I took a look around. No one could have predicted the way things would go tonight. Vince was especially heated. Hearing all of the shit his brother had committed against me would later drive him to the point of violence.
"The girl musters up all the money she had in cash and the courage she could find and goes and sees the creditor. She knows he's gonna ask her for sex and she's ready. She wants to protect her brother. She goes in and offers the man a number of non-sexual services and $10k as a deposit. He asks for her life and she gives it to him. Instead, he settles for a 100 days of sex and servitude and then fines her another 50 days when she saves him from a 10-15 bid due to his own arrogance." You would get no prizes for guessing the look on Angelo's face. He was humiliated, assignment understood.
He tried to get close, I showed him the other knife I had in my hand. He tried to speak, calling me "Baby" and asking me to calm down, I spit at at his face, missing it by millimetres. He got the message. He had opened this can of worms, and they wouldn't go back into the metal container.
"The part that you won't tell them though is what you refuse to tell me. You fell in love with that whore. If I walked in a circle around you, your head would spin 360° if it could. I MADE YOU BETTER. I MADE THIS WHOLE BITCH BETTER." The sound of my words, echoing through the otherwise empty room was disconcerting. I couldn't believe it was me, saying all of this out loud. But nothing could have made me cease my verbal assault.
"Night after night of endless conversations, my ideas being passed off as your own, tell them about that Lo, why don't you? Tell them about how it was only 'cause of me that you closed Panama, huh? Tell them about how I was the one to fuck you so good you agreed to fund Vince's defence system, since you wanna tell secrets! Huh?! Tell them about how I brought diamonds and emeralds to this organisation!" I was banging my flat hand against my chest.
Then the Caribbean in me slipped outand and I started making gun fingers, tapping them against my temple to emphasise every word.
I had had enough. I didn't care what they thought because I was leaving. Malia's exit strategy was scalable. I would pull the levers, make some calls and move the end date up. What was once an occurrence weeks away would happen in days. I couldn't stay here. I would have murdered him if I had.
"Remember how you were floating. I WAS THE OCEAN!" That much was becoming clear to the occupants of the foyer. I was pacing, knife in hand. He was frozen in place, scared of me for the first time in his life. The fear was delicious, rolling off him in waves. It made me want to turn up even more.
"And the crazy thing is what I've been working on getting Lucas out! That's what's taken up my time. That's why you can't just sit there and suck my titty when you're bored nigga. I MAKE SHIT HAPPEN, UNLIKE YOU!" He was getting incredibly red. Good.
"Tell them how many ideas got thrown out cause I didn't like them. At this point, it doesn't happen unless I say so. I'm the head the neck and the shoulders BITCH!" An overstatement, but it felt good to let it all out.
I was repaying him for every time he made a comment about my appearance, telling me I should change.
For every time he held me back.
For every time he tried to pressure me into getting pregnant.
Every time he had called my intelligence into question.
For every time he put a price on my being.
For when he paraded that bitch in front of me and then came home and fucked me like his life depended on it.
For fucking with my brother.
I was an Uzi, like the one that shot me, letting off round after round.
"Yeah I fucked you for money. I don't give a fuck! You can't shame me for that just like my bum ass daddy can't because I would rather be a 1000 whores than be like either of you."
I just wanted to hurt him.
Months and months of manipulation had been constricting me like a Boa, and I had finally broken free of the grip.
"A man, who instead of collecting a the debt from the nigga that owed him, bullied his kid into a prison. And still, you could have never have done what I did. You can't see past your fat ass nose. I made a way. I played a game longer than your dick!"
My whole body was taut with adrenaline. Every muscle was pulled tight, ready to fight for my life. He was trying to swallow me whole, taking away my pride. My last defence. I couldn't let him take any more. I couldn't take anymore.
I wanted to sever the malignant bond we formed; to make him stop loving me, and to stop returning the feeling. Yet, I knew that there was almost nothing I could utter to do so in that very moment. So I opted to push him away as hard as I could. I had to cut deep.
He wouldn't have even let me get more than the first smack in if he wasn't willing to hear me out and eventually, forgive me. That much I knew. In my enraged state, humiliation was the only way to go. So I said it.
"And the gag is that you'll take me back. Even after everything I have said this evening. Your whole universe is in my pussy. You can't live without me. I am your joie de vivre. I GIVE YOU LIFE!I won't give you a new one though because I would hate to have a son anything like you." His eyes closed like there were sand weights attached to them. Out of everything I said this evening, that hurt the most. It hurt me too.
"So take time Angelo, let the hurt seep away, like I have, time after time. Be prepared to find your way back to my bed. For it's your favourite place on earth, and your body will take you even if your mind won't. But remember this. Remember where you were and what my face looked like. Mark my words or whatever you need to do to commit this to memory." My fingers were still in the form of a gun, tapping against my temple before pointing at him. I wished in that moment that my long, tapered square, high-smile line frenchies were bullets.
"Never speak to me like this again. Because as I said, there's nothing I can say or do to make you leave me. And I will do what I do and look into the future. I'll take you back and time will pass. You'll be on edge at first, sleeping with one eye open. But eventually the paranoia will pass and your body will succumb to the exhaustion. When that happens I'll be there."
I drew the knife's blade across my neck, along the scar my dad gave me. My eyes were void of emotion. I didn't press deep enough to draw blood but he knew what it meant. I was putting this on the life I had worked so hard to keep.
Then, I threw the knife into the foyer, not aiming for anyone but hitting another priceless piece of art with a resounding clatter, damaging it beyond repair. I wanted to show him I didn't need a weapon to put the fear of God into him.
"I'll be there and I will kill you with my bare hands." Chills found their way through the spines of every penis-bearing human being in attendance.
At this point I was right in his face. He didn't speak much Spanish outside of what I had taught him but he understood every world I uttered.
"Y cuando termine, te colgaré en un gancho como el cerdo que eres." And when I finish, I will hang you on a hook like the pig you are.
I didn't stick around to see the looks on their faces. Or the boxing match between brothers that would ensue. I had shit to do.
When my body touched the cold air, condensation came rolling off it in waves, curling into the air, before vanishing. I decided to get out of there and call my play. Not before keying every car he owned, that I encountered in my path though.
All that could be heard from inside, was the sounds of the garage door opening and a car screeching down the drive.
Chapter 24
Whew! That was a hot one. A lot of people should be scared here! A lot of people should be scared! And I'll name'em!
Vanessa went loco! It's been a long time coming. He has crammed her into a mould that just doesn't fit her. And he's been picking and picking at her. His view of her is so one dimensional and he just doesn't see how much holding money over her head has forced her to be agreeable. Not anymore.
It felt good to write. Vanessa needed to have her Don't Hurt Yourself moment.
Big Leo was real quiet. He was scuuurrrrrrrrrrred y'all 💀
What do you think will happen next? Find out on the season finale of AT WHAT COST?
Let me know your favourite moment or insult. Mi wan know!
LOVE YOU LONG TIME - DUCHESS 🤍🤍🤍