Page 15

I walked up to the building calmly, watching homeless mutha fuckas scatter seeing my masked 6’2 ass walking down the street with a gas can and a gun. I beat on the door a few times and then stood back.

BAM BAM BAM BAM

“Whoever in this bitch better get the fuck out now!”

The door soon cracked open, and the second the female standing there saw me masked up, she jumped back. She looked familiar, like one of the girls who had been up at the hospital with Jasmine’s baby daddy the day her son first got hurt.

“Who the fuck are you?” she asked, trying to sound tough even though fear was all in her face.

“I’m the nigga telling your ass to get the fuck out of this house before you get cooked like dinner,” I snapped aggressively. “And whoever else is in there needs to get out. I don’t feel like killing anybody today, so just do what the fuck I said. She froze for a second, but that was a second too long.

“Did you not hear me? You must be ready to get flamed along with this piece of house.”

The tone of my voice finally made her move. She turned and started frantically yelling through the house.

“Y’all! Somebody at the door! He is telling us to get out, and he has a fuckin gun!”

I heard yelling and chatter on the inside as I clutched my pistol, making sure no one came out, and I had to flat line them right there.

After only a few seconds, people started scrambling out of the house and running down the street, yelling and crying, while I moved through the place pouring gasoline everywhere to make sure there wouldn’t be much left once the flames started spreading.

Once the scent of gas was so strong it started to burn my nose, I took a piece of paper from the entry table by the door, sparked the lighter, and a fire zipped through the house faster than they had run out.

I turned and walked down the steps, jogging down a back alley, watching the smoke fill the entire block. Before getting too far, I pulled my phone out and snapped one quick picture before hurrying back toward my car. By the time I pulled off, people were everywhere, yelling, recording, and trying to figure out what happened as fire lit up the night behind me.

I grabbed my phone from the passenger seat and pulled up Jasmine’s name before sending her the picture I took as I sped away.

I hope this makes you feel a little better. I burned this shit to the ground for you.

I sent her the photo, and a few seconds later, my phone buzzed with a message from her.

Omg. You are crazy lol but can I see you?

When and where? I replied.

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

I'm at the hospital now, and as soon as you can.

My first thought was that she wasn’t happy about the photo I sent and I’d actually made shit even worse. But I'm sure she would've called instead of texting and the, lol, was telling enough.

Okay, I'm on the way.

I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, put the car in drive, and headed toward the hospital.

By the time I pulled up outside the hospital, Jasmine was already standing near the front entrance in black leggings and an oversized New York Knicks hoodie with her arms folded across herself while the wind pushed pieces of her hair away from her face. She looked tired as hell even from inside the car, but the second she spotted me pulling up, she started walking toward the passenger side.

I leaned across the console and pushed the door open for her before she climbed in beside me.

“I could’ve come up if you didn’t want to leave your son.”

“It’s okay. My mama and Pernelle upstairs with him.” She rubbed underneath her eyes tiredly.

“I just needed air.”

I nodded because, honestly, I understood that feeling completely.

“Let’s just ride then if you're okay with that. I can let the windows down and let the breeze hit you.”