"Give her to me and there won't be an issue, man," Ryan barters. I can see the wheels turning in his head. He's plotting and scheming. If he doesn't get me now, he'll find revenge at some point. He's that spiteful and unforgiving. His tone is of someone who is defeated, but it's an act. Ryan doesn't just give up something he thinks belongs to him. For a brief, terrifying moment, I think Rampage might hand me back over to him. I prepare myself to run. I will fight, or I will kill myself before I ever go with him again.
"Let me tell ya how this is gonna go, man. Lala ain't goin' any fuckin' where with you. You stay the fuck away from her. You come near her, I'll kill you. Take your bitch ass off my property. Stay away, or it won't end well for you."
Ryan looks from Rampage to me, and back again. Opening his mouth to argue, he get as far as, "Fuck that … " before his eyes go wide with fear. Without a second thought, Rampage reaches into the waist of his jeans, pulling out a large silver gun. With ease, he takes aim and shoots. One single shot rings out into the quiet of the night.
He shoots one of Ryan's guy's in the face with absolutely no emotion. The guy's head explodes everywhere, blood and brain spilling out in all directions. The violence is so natural and easy.
"What did you do?" My mom starts screaming and crying at me when she opens the front door of our rickety trailer. My hands shake so bad, I drop the gun. No tears. I can't cry, I can't move, and I can't stop staring. A bubble of laughter erupts from my lips before I can stop it.
"Why-why are you laughing, you stupid girl?" She cries. Her movements are frantic and jumpy, her eyes quickly shifting between him and me. "You … you … You're so goddamn stupid, Lailah. Why?" She sobs at me. Black tears from her mascara run down her already smudged and smeared, made up face. I feel like I'm in a bad movie. I listen in a numb silence as she screams and berates me for what I've done. I listen as she tells me what a horrible and sick person I am. The pool of blood around his body grows by the second, finally reaching my bare feet, and the metallic smell of blood and sulfur from the gunpowder permeate every square inch of our trailer. I just look at him with a smile on my face as his eyes stare blankly into the void.
"Why would you do this to me?"
I'm jerked out of my trance when my mom starts shaking my shoulders, screaming and crying in my face. She's so upset, yet I can't seem to feel bad. I have no regrets. I'm going to hell and I don't fucking care. Do I have a soul? A heart? Who knows, but what I do know is that he deserved it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, my soul be damned.
"Why? Why Lailah? He was all I had. He's all that boy had." Why? He gave me no choice. I needed to. There was no other choice for me to make.
Turning to walk to my room, I look over my shoulder one last time and see my bloody foot prints on our green carpet, along with blood and brain matter on the wall and ceiling. I'm actually surprised that he had a brain in that head of his with all the blow and shit that he snorted.
"I had to do it, mom. You chose him over me a long time ago, but I choose me. We can make it look like a drug deal gone bad. There are plenty of ways to make it look that way, don't you think? I'm not stupid and at least I'm sober, so I'll handle this shit. You just snort your coke and I'll set it up and we can disappear, and we can do it without Ryan. Get your shit and let's get ready to go. I'll take care of everything, just like I always do for you."
///
The man's body crumples to the pavement. Ryan is white and shaking as he stares wordlessly at Rampage.
"Last warning," Rampage says quietly to Ryan. I don't move. I stare at that body. I stare and reminisce with my disturbing memories, but I'm not bothered. I can't help but wish that it was Ryan laying there, just like old daddy dearest had been when we left that trailer.
Wrapping a big hand around my arm, Rampage pulls me inside and away from Ryan, his fingers biting into my skin. My mind is numb and my feet are heavy as I'm dragged behind him. No one says anything about the dead guy outside. In fact, no one bats an eye at it. This shit is normal for them, and I'm sure it's not the first, or last time, this shit will happen. I just don't want it to ever happen again because of me.
Leaning down, Rampage looks me in the eyes, getting close to my face, "Go to the fuckin' room," he says in a cold whisper. Giving me a little push toward the hall, he lets me go. I've been dismissed.
Looking over my shoulder, I see the guys standing around talking in deep, hushed voices. No one looks my way, and I can't help but wonder if I'm next?
In a dark haze, I walk back to Rampages room. I know I should be running, getting dressed and getting as far as I can away from Rampage as possible, but for some terrifying reason, I stay. I need to stay. If this is it for me, I would rather it be at the hands of Rampage and his club than give Ryan the satisfaction of having me. I've had enough. I just want it to end, even if it means I have to do it myself.
Sitting down on the bed, I wait. For what? I'm not sure, but I wait because I'm too stupid to do anything else.
After what feels like hours, Rampage comes into the room quietly. I've been sitting here in the same spot, silently waiting for God knows what. I've done nothing but stare at the TV, watching it, but not seeing it.
He stares at me while pulling off his cut and shirt, tossing them onto the dresser. He doesn't say anything to me, he only watches me. His eyes bore into me for long, silent moments. I don't respond or acknowledge him. I just sit, and I wait for what other humiliating shit he can put me through before I try to get out of here.
"Lala?" Looking up into his dark eyes, an unsettling chill creeps down my spine. I let my eyes shift away before he can read my fear and guilt. Pulling that gun from the waist of his pants, I close my eyes, take a deep breath and wait. If this is it, I just want it to be quick.
I sit, body completely stiff, waiting for the pain that may come, only to realize that nothing is happening. Opening my eyes, I see him set the gun on the dresser. Looking between the gun and me, he seems to understand my fear.
"You scared?" he asks me in a deep, gruff whisper. Am I scared?
"Scared of what?" That depends on what he's referring to.
"Of me." Yes. I don't doubt that he's killed before. That was obvious from outside. It shows me how easily it would be for him to kill me, and if he tried, would I have it in me to defend my own life again? Would I be able to save myself from him?
So with that, I answer him honestly, "Yes," but I'm not scared enough to leave. From here on out, what happens, happens.
"I'm not gonna hurt you, Lala." He says tiredly. He says it like we've had this conversation before.
"How do I know that?" For a moment he doesn't answer. The silence stretches while he stares at me thoughtfully. "You don't … You just gotta trust me."
"Should I trust you?" I ask him in return. Trust. Now there's something I don't have much of. And what little I do have, I have no idea what to do with it.
"Should I trust you?" He throws back at me. Would I hurt Rampage? Could I hurt him? I shrug, knowing that's the best answer I can give him. If I had to, I might.
"Yes, Lala. You should trust me."
"Why?" I ask in return.
"Because if I wanted to kill you, I would have. I saw you on that stage tonight ‘n I could have killed you then. You didn't come to me when I called for you at the club. You didn't listen when I told you to go inside. I coulda hurt you for it, but I didn't, ‘n I wouldn't."
"Why didn't you?" There is something so wrong and disturbing about our conversation. I shouldn't need to know why he didn't kill me, or why he didn't hurt me. In fact, this shouldn't even be a topic we discuss. The fact that he could should convince me to leave, but I remain right fucking here.
"Why the fuck would I?" he barks at me. Disturbing memories pop into my mind of being punished for acting out, being taught a lesson for disobeying. Being hurt for saying no, or the repercussions for fighting back.
///
"Because I deserved it."
Pacing back and forth, he tugs at his clothes and grumbles to himself. Looking down at me, he scrubs his face roughly. "Jesus Christ, Lala. I don't wanna fuckin' hurt ya like that. I don't want to kill ya, but that fuckin' asshole is a whole other story." His eyes darken when he talks about Ryan. Shooting me a dark look he tells me, "You stay the fuck away from him. Don't care who ya hang with, but it won't be him. I know he's the asshole who was puttin' hands on you, ‘n I'm still havin' a hard time justifying why I just didn't kill him instead."