Wickman •Nardo Wick•

24•

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"Nardo," I say, slowly trailing behind him. My hands shaking. I don't know where it went, but my confidence done disappeared on me.

"Yes baby," he responds, gripping onto my hand and yanking me to him.

"I'm scared," I say, and he stops.

"Ight, lemme take you back to the room," he says, walking the opposite way. I pull him back.

"I'm scared but I have to do this," I say, looking up at him. "Let me."

"You sure?"

"I am," I respond, nodding.

"You know you safe with me," he states, pressing his lips against my forehead. "When evil come you know I shoot."

"Wait, before we go down there," I say, stepping back. "Who is Nina?"

"You," he says, and shots go off. "Let's go."

I should've known that. But I don't know what it means. What's a Nina? How you get Nina from Alex? Or Alexandra? Niggas so creative now days.

I follow behind him, holding my gun like Morgan did in Criminal minds. I wish I was the cops, going down to take out the bad guys. But I'm a murderer, going down to take down murderers.

"Melly," I hear a voice yell. I look down and see a man that reminds me of Vroy. Huge forehead, dreads. He's just a lot darker. He looks at me and then Wick, and walks towards us, placing his gun in his pants.

"Wick," he says, dapping up the guy.

"Fuck going down out here," he says.

"Ran into some entanglements," he says, laughing evilly. Nardo walks us to the kitchen, the alien head following behind us.

"Explain," Nardo says, placing his gun down on the counter. He sits down on one of the chairs by the island, and pulls me into his lap. "Tired of motherfuckas shooting up my crib. Keep them niggas away bruh, Nina be here."

"My bad Wick. Them ex grizzley niggas followed me here. I got em all, so I betta leave to go get rid of they car," he grins, proud of himself.

"You killed all of them by yourself," I ask.

"Yes ma'am. One of the best shootas in flordia," he smiles again. He just looks evil, in a Damon Salvatore kinda way.

"Nina here got her first body. Shot down that nigga on 5th," Nardo says proudly.

"Heard that nigga got shot in the head," the guy responds, shocked.

"Bullseyed the fuck outta that bitch," Nardo chuckles, rubbing my stomach.

"Bet you proud," alien says.

"Damn right." He kisses my cheek.

"There's plenty more where that come from jhit. Hope yo ass ain't trigger happy like Wickman," he chuckles, leaning on the counter.

He just killed who knows how many people, and he's chilling like ain't shit happened. I can't talk. I killed somebody and had sex the same day. But still, one compared to more, I'm safe. There's a difference between a murderer and a killer. Murderers have a reason, killers don't. I don't know which one I am yet.

I wish I wouldn't have to be either.

"How many niggas you killed?"

"Bout 6," he responds, "maybe 7. I was just shooting."

"Since you wanna be all big and brave," Nardo turns my face to him. "Help Melly clean the house. Keep an eye on her, Ight? Finna go check up on Vroy anem."

"I gotchu. Come on jhit," the big forehead man says, stretching his arm out. His name is Melly.

I look at Nardo. I know he don't expect me to clean up blood and carry bodies. Oh hell no. He can kiss my black ass with that one. I could barely handle a dead body I wasn't even near. I'm not carrying one.

"You funny," I say, faking a laugh. Nardo looks at me and pushes me off his lap. "Nigga I am not touching no dead body!"

"You killed a Nigga in broad daylight, and left his ass there. Ain't clean shit. Feds found the body and looking for my car. You owe me," Nardo says. "Pay your dues and get it over with."

"Man, fuck you," I respond, walking past Melly.

"I ain't get to finish," he yells back, and I hear him laugh. Ain't shit funny. He act like he wasn't shooting at him too.

I enter the living room and I see two bodies, dripping with blood. I hear the front door shut, which means Nardo left. That bitch.

"Youn gotta do nothing, jhit. I got it," Melly says, placing his arm around my shoulder. "Ion want you getting blood between your fingernails."

He laughs.

Ain't shit to laugh about. Niggas think I'm weak. Imma show they asses.

"Imma help," I say, pushing his hand off of me.

"Well before you start 'helping' me," he says, putting and emphasis on helping. "Lemme introduce myself. I'm Jamel, most people call me Melly."

"I'm Alexandra, niggas call me Alex."

"Wick call you Nina," he states, getting on his knees in front of the body. He pulls out the wallets and the iPhone. He takes his watch, his gun, and digs in his sock and finds bullets. He places all of them I'm a big pile on the floor, and moves to the next body.

"Why?"

"Why what," he asks, taking the keys out of the man's pocket.

"Why he call me Nina," I respond. He digs in the man's socks and even strips him of his belt. He been doing this for a while

"Nina what they call a gun. You his Nina. You his gun," he explains. I understand but I don't at the same time. How can I be someone's gun?

"You got a Nina?"

"Had one."

"What happened," I ask as I sr thin place everything in a pile on the floor.

"You ask a lot of questions, jhit," he chuckles, grabbing the phone. Somehow he unlocks it and starts to go through the call log.

"Just making conversation," I respond as he grabs what I'm assuming is his phone out his pocket and dialing the number into his own, saving it under 'oppa' and then handing me his phone.

"Place ya number in here. Since Reg and Tony gon, you gon be wit me when Wick busy."

I type my number in and hand it back. He takes it and saves it under 'lil jhit'.

I smile at the nickname. I hadn't really heard anyone call anybody a jhit. I miss being called Thug and Thugga. I miss that shit so much. I realize how bad thugs have it, losing their friends everyday. Just because they chose that life doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

"One thing about me tho, is that I'm not just one person," he tells me, handing me a chain. I look at him confused for two reasons. One, how you not just one person? And two, why you handing me a dead nigga chain?

"Huh?"

"I got a split personality disorder," he explains, picking everything up and placing it on a table.

"Elaborate," I say and he goes quiet. That word was too big for Elmo. "Oh, that mean like explain or describe."

"Girl Ian dumb," he responds, unlocking the other phone. "You know how much money I make for this? I make thousands everyday from taking these dead niggas phones. In high school, I used to cell locked phones and they'd have to give it back and pay me to get it unlocked. I'd just take off with it and do it over again."

That's lowkey smart.

"Mariah, my Nina. I tried that shit with her and she beat my ass."

"Where is she now?"

"In hell, probably. Waiting for me," he responds, in a weaker, sad voice. I place my hand on his back.

"How'd it happen?"

"Nigga named Kentrell killed her."

Okay, maybe my brother is kind of dangerous. Shit.