Ghetto Girls Too. Anthony Whyte

       ONE

      He heard multiple explosions and felt his whole body rock. At the same time, bullets hit him with so much force that he was separated from his Timberlands and viciously slammed against a fallen untitled Korean painting. Stunned, he recovered grasping at the hole in his stomach.

      “Ah, what da fuck, bitch? You shot me. A-a-ah-h-h, no you didn’t. You fucking bi-bi-bitches!” Lil’ Long screamed. “You fucking bi-bi-bitches!” he wailed before staring wide-eyed, his mouth gaping in silence when he saw all the blood gushing from his wounds.

      In a last ditch effort, Lil’ Long tried to grip the steel in his hand. His fingers were slow to respond. Instinctively, Lil’ Long twisted his body and tried to roll away when he saw another flash. With three slugs already buried in his body, his motions became sluggish and he labored badly. His reaction time was a lot slower than he thought. He had been given props for reigning terror on the hood so payment by bullet wounds was new to Lil’ Long.

      This wasn’t part of the plan. He was without his main ally, Vulcha, and completely defenseless. Another round crashed into his body leaving him immobile. Slumped over on his backside, his eyes rolled uncontrollably. This is fucked if it’s the end. His mind wouldn’t rest. Lil’ Long could sense the joy in the expressions from those relishing his present demise.

      “Yeah, I think that’s it for ol’ boy,” Eric Ascot shouted looking at Lil’ Long’s body sprawled against the wall.

      I can’t let it end. Fuck death. They gotta pay. He was at his wits end but wouldn’t let go of life. Blood seemed to be everywhere. Some of it splattered across the décor like wallpaper.

      Eric walked over with gun in hand and examined Lil’ Long’s seemingly lifeless carcass.

      “Is everybody all right?” Eric asked then gasped as he saw the gory twisted angle of Kamilla’s body. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed and hurried over to where her crumpled carcass rested, downed by slugs from Lil’ Long’s guns. Eric held his breath hoping but seemed unsure and cautiously moved closer. He felt her cold clammy skin and knew she was fatally wounded. Eric’s touch disturbed the carcass. Kamilla’s once beautiful head shifted awkwardly back revealing a full frontal view. For the first time, Eric could see what she looked like. He took some steps back, visibly shaken. “She’s dead,” he announced. Eric’s voice cracked from the strain of his emotions.

      The grotesque look on one side of her face was enough confirmation. Kamilla was mortally wounded. Eric felt a tremor of relief when he turned and saw Sophia. He hurried to help her to the sofa. “You’re alright? Are you okay, honey?” Eric asked brushing her hair away from her face. He saw the penny sized lump just under her hairline as he attempted to comfort her.

      Eric hurried to get an ice pack and held it against the lump. Sophia pushed him away and rubbed her eyes in disbelief. A worried frown enveloped her face when she saw Coco and Deedee holding guns that were still smoking and pointed at the bloody mess. Sophia surveyed the entire scene with frightening curiosity. It was as if being suddenly awake in someone else’s worst nightmare.

      She saw Eric who had a defiant air about him and he seemed all right. Sophia blinked uneasily. She was still stunned and tried to slow down the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions invading her mind. The whole thing was difficult for her to absorb all at once. Sophia tried to make sense of it. How did the girls get the guns and why was this thug here in the first place? She put her hand to the side of her head and felt the bruise. It was a reminder of an incident that she was slowly trying to put together .

      The whole thing seemed like it happened in a flash, she thought. The ruminations slowed and Sophia remembered the doorbell and the incessant knocking. She had thought that someone was making a delivery so she answered the door and was surprised by a man with a gun. Or were there two guns? Maybe there were two men carrying guns. Her memory was cloudy from there on. Try as she may, Sophia couldn’t remember much more of anything. What was abundantly clear was that the body of one of the intruders was bleeding to death not too far from where she sat. As the cobwebs slowly cleared from her head, Sophia heard Deedee’s eerie cry.

      “Oh my gosh! Kamilla… is she ah… for real Uncle E, what’re we gonna do? Shouldn’t we call the…” Deedee fumbled for the right words but her mouth was dry from fear.

      “What about him? Do you think he’s dead, yo?” Coco casually asked. Deedee sensed no anxiety in Coco’s tone. Her teenaged friend appeared far more composed about the entire incident than her adult counterparts. It was this quality that Deedee wished she had and another thing she admired about the fearless Coco. “He deserved all that shit,” Coco said as she and Deedee turned their gaze on the fallen fighter.

      Deedee felt a rush of adrenaline as if she had accomplished a huge feat. She had defeated an enemy who had raped her. The gun felt cold and heavy against her sweaty palm but she refused to let it go. It was as if she wanted to savor this moment. Deedee wanted to secure it in the same manner that Coco hid her scars after she had been raped. Coco had buried that feeling of being violated somewhere deep down in her soul. Unforgiving, she used the anger to fuel her drive.

      This moment was Deedee’s and it was clear that from this point on there would be no turning back. Deedee knew the police would come. She knew that there would be questions and a criminal investigation. But where was all that when this punk was mauling me? This is my sweet revenge, she thought going from Coco’s chilled demeanor to the look of confusion on Sophia’s face.