This chapter is kinda iffy. Sorry.
"I walk alone—I miss lil Dave. I think about dying everyday."
The day after that felt like an eternity to Kentrell. The night before, him and Ivette had talked all night about his pinned up rage. She suggested he see somebody about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Telling him to go to the doctor would usually be like a slug to the face, but Eve was quite gentle with it. She didn't make him feel like he was crazy.
But him walking down the summer streets of Baton Rouge in the middle of the night with all black on had made passerby's think he was.
Mental. Crazy. Insane.
The words buzzed around his head like bees. Aggressive, annoying, shaming bees. It was three times worse now.
He dug his hands in his deep pockets as he walked along the yellow lines in the road. The neighborhood he was passing through was quiet. Not a porch light on in sight. He was fully aware of his labored breathing as his feet hit the tarred pavement with a crackling tap.
He hadn't talked to Ivette all day. He wasn't mad, neither was she. They just hadn't contacted each other since he left her hotel room. Giving each other a little space? Alone time? Kentrell wasn't really sure. He just knew it didn't sit too nice with him.
He didn't like being alone.
That's what him and Jania had in common.
But of course, he didn't wanna think of Jania's cheating ass. He never wanted to see her again.
He couldn't help but think of how disloyal she was to him, even though he was in no way a saint. All he asked of her was to not make him look stupid. But with her pictures and videos being leaked to a thousand shaderooms, he couldn't look any more dumb. Unless he went back to her.
He shook Jania from his thoughts as he turned the corner onto a darker street he was familiar with. This street was more livelier than the last, old porch lights flickering as high school boys played and gambled on some and older women gossiped on others.
Kentrell stepped up onto the creaking wooden porch with a smile on his face. His little cousin, Malik, was posted up with his friends shooting dice.
"Waddup lil nigga." His raspy voice could barely be heard above the shouts from the boys. Malik dapped up his big cousin and looked back at the game. "Where Auntie?"
"Kitchen, I think." This late? Kentrell shrugged his shoulders and clicked open the screen door, stepping into the warm house. Reporters droned on about the fire that burned a house on Cherry St. to a crisp, grease bubbled loudly, and pots hit the stove with clangs as his aunt hummed Life and Favor...or maybe Karma. They sounded too much alike.
Kentrell's footsteps echoed through the house, mixing with a slosh on the hardwood from when he stepped in a ground puddle. He walked into the old kitchen, smiling brightly.
"Auntie." His voice cracked a little for no reason. She jumped a little as she turned away from the stove.
"Aw boy, you scared me. Hey baby..." Her soft voice soothes his ears as she stepped closer to offer him a hug. And offer which he would never refuse. He wrapped his long arms around her neck as she did the same with his torso. "What brings you by, baby?" She asked, a little concerned at his demeanor.
"I wanted to clear my head and it led hea'. Mind if I sit?" She shook her head.
"Don't mind one bit, I need to see you for a while. Catch you when I can. You hungry?" He nodded, smiling as she brought the fried chicken out of the grease. She reminded him so much of his late grandmother.
"Why you cookin so late, it's bout one o'clock in the mornin?" He asked as she pulled out a glass plate.
"I messed around and fell asleep when I got off, and Malik can barely boil water." She stopped to look at him, putting a hand on her hip with a faint smile. "You know what I woke up to, boy?" She was already chuckling, it tickled her so. This made Kentrell's face brighten.
"What's that, Auntie?"
"The boy dern near burnt my house down. I woke up and I was like 'I smell some burnin' and I come in the kitchen and the boy forgot to put his noodles in water—tryna rush out and get back to them boys. They been out thea forever." Kentrell laughed a little loud, opening his eyes and having them lead straight to the orange pill bottle in his eyesight.
His stomach turned as he thought about that night again.
He wanted to run, run away from his thoughts—but he sat. He thanked his auntie for the plate and ate. He talked with her, kept her company, until her soft eyes complained out of exhaustion. But somehow, they still smiled at him.
"Okay Auntie. Imma let you lay down." Her face twisted into a sad one.
"You sure, baby? I ain't too tired, now. Even if you want me to gone on, you can stay the night, know that?" Kentrell nodded.
"I know, Auntie. Can I come back? I got some' to see to before I go to sleep."
"You promise you coming back?" He nodded.
"Promise." He lowered his voice as he stood.
"Be safe, now. You know where the key is." He headed out the door and back into the unforgiving night. It felt like his head was spinning as he walked down the street. He kept his calm until he turned on an empty street, his mission to get his car out of the driveway so he could drive in the morning, along with some clothes among other things.
Images of Dave flashed through his head like brutal stop motion, and it seemed like the only thing he could hear was the pounding of his heart and his voice in his ears.
Say, Trell.
Kentrell didn't respond to the voice.
You rap about me like you didn't kill me.
What?
You let them kill me. You knew they were coming.
"I tried to warn him." Kentrell's strangled phrase came out on accident.
You knew they were coming. You didn't try hard enough.
"Shut up." He was telling more to himself than to 'Dave'. He knew it was all inside his head. A guilty conscious. For what?
Why you let me die, Trell? I bled out because of you. You ain't even come back to help.
'Dave's voice got louder, stronger. Kentrell's palms began to sweat. His feet started to work on auto pilot.
I DIED CUZ OF YOU. YOU KILLED ME.
Kentrell's breathing got heavier, complete with soft sobs. Tears slid from his cheek and slipped onto his lips.
That day, he was scared. He was afraid of death, who pulled at his shoelaces. He didn't want the same fate. Maybe the shooter would circle around while he tried to keep Dave alive. He just couldn't.
Before he knew it, Dave was screaming and he was standing in the middle of a paved bridge with a creek under it. It was rocky, but deep. By now, he was full on crying, his lips trembled as he struggled to breathe.
"I tried to tell you." He whimpered to the voice, but it didn't stop. "I'm sorry." He said loud enough for someone to hear. He yelled it a second time, tears continuing to flow like a never ending river. He could barely shut his mouth. He dry heaved, feeling like he was going to vomit. He breathed deeply and turned around.
He sat on the railing of the bridge, back facing the creek and the wild brush. He swallowed hard, pulling out his phone. He thought about Ivette, he thought about his brother, he thought about the promise he made his aunt. Dave was quiet now, and he put his feet back on the pavement. His chest still jumped as he caught his breath.
He slowly walked away from the railing, shaking the thoughts of "falling" over the edge as he began to break into a run towards where he car was. What was happening to him? He could usually keep himself under control. Before tonight he felt like he had so much to live for.
But now, the guilt that shouldn't even be with him was eating him alive. Why didn't he go stop Dave from bleeding out? Why didn't he go see his grandmother more? Why didn't he stop Dump from going out that night.
Everything was his fault.
He missed them so much, especially Dave. He wanted to see them so bad. But not now.
Eventually, he made it to his car, but he didn't even feel like going inside. He just wanted to be in a bed. He rushed back over to his aunt's house where the boys were still rowdy on the porch.
"Mane, y'all folks gone keep my auntie up all night with that yellin'. Malik, take this shit somewhere else." One if his friends sucked his teeth, but they all got up.
"You lucky yo mom's cool." A light skin boy said.
"Nigga please, you just scared of that nigga."
"As he should be! Yeen heard bout what that nigga be doing? I wanna make it home tonight." Kentrell just chuckled and shook his head. He went in the hallway and grabbed a blanket from the linen closet. With a sigh, he plopped down onto the soft sofa and wrapped up in the cover. Shutting his eyes, he tried to think about anything but dead people as his phone rang continuously.
_______
@ C/O 2019: if you're going to college, where have you applied?
@ Everybody else: What's your dream school? If you have one.