I opened the door.
“Goodbye, Baba. I hope the rest of your life is very long. And very painful.”
I walked out and didn’t look back.
Mehar was gonewhen I got to the hallway. Probably went to the cafeteria or bathroom to pull herself together before heading home to make dinner for that sorry excuse for a husband.
I’d meant what I said. When she was ready, I’d be there.
The parking garage was cold and quiet. My footsteps echoed off the concrete as I walked to the car. I sat behind the wheel for a minute, just breathing.
I’d done it.
Faced the monster. Said what I’d been carrying for twelve years. Showed him everything he’d lost. Everything he’d never have.
And I felt…
Light.
Like something heavy had been lifted off my chest. Something I’d been carrying so long I forgot it was even there.
I pulled out my phone.
Me:Done. On my way home.
Prime:How you feel?
I thought about it. Really thought.
Me:Free.
Prime:That’s my girl. Drive safe. I love you.
Me:I love you too.
I started the car and pulled out of the garage. Baltimore disappeared in my rearview mirror, getting smaller and smaller until it was gone.
I was never coming back.
And for the first time in twelve years, that thought didn’t scare me.
Freedom.
16
ZOO
The cops ain’t do shit. Knew that already. Known it since day one when they showed up at the crime scene with their little notepads and their bored-ass faces, looking at my son’s body like it was just another dead nigga in Southeast. Asked a few questions. Took some pictures. Told Brandi they’d “be in touch” and then bounced like they had somewhere better to be.
A few weeks later and ain’t nobody been in touch about a goddamn thing.
So I did what I always do when the system fails. I handled that shit myself.
Started at the school. I waited outside the gates at dismissal, watching the kids pour out in their little cliques. The athletes. The nerds. The corner boys in training who thought they was hard because they stole candy from the bodega. I remembered being that age. Remembered thinking I knew everything when I ain’t know shit.
Found a group of boys I recognized from Nigel’s pics on his phone. His crew. The ones he ran with when he wasn’t at home eating up everything in Brandi’s fridge.
“Yo.” I stepped to them, and they all tensed up. Could see them calculating—cop? Opp? Somebody’s pissed-off daddy? “Relax. I’m Nigel’s father.”
