I woke up to the sound of beeping. Steady, rhythmic beeping that made my head throb. My whole face hurt, no, everything hurt. My jaw, my cheek, my head. I tried to open my eyes, but the light was too bright, so I squeezed them shut again.
"She's waking up." It was Mya's voice,
"Yah-Yah?” Yatta called out. My brother sounded scared, which was rare, because Yatta didn't get scared.
I forced my eyes open, blinking against the fluorescent lights. I was in a hospital room, with an IV in my arm, monitors hooked up to me. Mya was on one side of my bed, her face tight with worry, and Yatta was on the other, his jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might crack.
And in the corner, standing against the wall with her face all fucked up and tears streaming down her cheeks, was Morgan.
The memories came flooding back. With me finding them in bed together, beating Morgan's ass, Rylo's fist connecting with my face, and then… nothing.
"That bitch ass nigga put his hands on you," Yatta said, his voice low and dangerous. "Hoe ass nigga gave you a concussion. The Doctor said you were lucky he ain't break your jaw."
My hand went to my face, and I felt the swelling, the tenderness.
My left eye was swollen damn near shut.
"Where he at?" I asked, my voice was hoarse.
"He dipped," Mya said, and the disgust in her voice was palpable. "Soon as he realized what he did, he got ghost. This bitch right here" she jerked her head toward Morgan, "is the one who called the ambulance."
I looked at Morgan, and the rage that had dulled while I was unconscious came roaring back.
"Get the fuck out," I said, my voice shaking.
"Yasani, I'm so sorry," Morgan started taking a step forward.
"GET THE FUCK OUT!" I screamed, and the monitors started beeping faster. "You SORRY? You fucked my nigga and all you got to say is you sorry?"
"It just happened; I didn't—"
"You didn't what? You didn’t mean to open your legs? Or you didn't mean to betray the one person who had your back through everything?" My voice cracked, and I hated that I was crying in front of her. "I defended you when bitches talked shit about you! I loaned you money when you broke! Hoe, I was there when your own mama kicked you the fuck out and you had nowhere else to go! And this how you do me?"
"Yasani—"
"Nah, fuck that." I sat up in bed, ignoring the way my head spun. "You wanna know the fucked up part? It wasn't even just tonight, was it? Y'all been fucking around behind my back for a minute. HOW LONG?"
Morgan's face crumbled with fresh tears spilling over. "A few months," she whispered.
"A few MONTHS?" I laughed, but it was bitter. "So, every time I called you crying about this nigga, every time I asked you for advice about our relationship, you was already fucking him? You sat in my face and lied to me for MONTHS?"
Yatta stepped forward, and I'd never seen him look so angry. "Yasani, stop talking to this bitch," he said quietly, "Mya, Escort this bitch out right now. Hoe gotta go."
"Wait, Yah-Yah, please—" Morgan tried one more time.
"Don't say my fucking name," I spat. "Don't ever say my name again. You dead to me. DEAD."
Mya grabbed Morgan's arm, yanking her toward the door. "You need to leave before I beat your ass in this hospital. And trust me, I don't give a fuck about getting locked up."
"I'm sorry," Morgan sobbed as Mya pushed her out the door. "I'm so sorry."
The door closed behind them, and the room fell silent except for the beeping of the monitors.
Yatta sat down on the edge of my bed, careful not to jostle me. His jaw was still clenched, a vein throbbing in his forehead. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and controlled—which was somehow worse than if he'd been yelling.
"When I catch that nigga Rylo, I'ma kill him. He put his hands on you and left you on the floor unconscious." He looked at me, and his eyes were filled with rage. "Nah that shit ain’t flying. That hoe ass nigga gotta die for that."
"Yatta—"
