Wickman •Nardo Wick•

36

Tap in if you trying to hold on 🤍🕊️

"Durk! Vroy," I scream into the phone as Melly speeds to the hospital. I start to get anxious. They don't respond. Maybe it's the fact that Melly is going above the speed limit and I'm pregnant. Or the fact that one of my brothers, or maybe both of them might be shot.

How the fuck do these niggas get guns in the hospital? The police patrols the shit like crazy and there's detectors at the door. It's either they're fake or these niggas Jackie Chan.

"Slow down, Jamel. I got a baby in here," I tell him, smacking his shoulder. He sucks his teeth.

"That lil nigga gon die anyway," he responds, earning another slap.

"Don't say that shit," I cuss, holding tightly to my seatbelt. I didn't realize we were that far away from the hospital.

"You gon die too, jhit," he continues to say. "Imma die, Durk gon die. Von, Wick and all of em. Even up mama gon die one day. We all gon be in caskets, so fuck it."

"Yeah, we all gon die," I say, "but Ian tryna die right now."

He lie. My mama ain't gon die. My mama never gon die. She better not. How im supposed to raise this baby and not know shit? How the hell do you change diapers? Fix a bottle? How tf do I get the milk to come out my breasts? I need my mama. Hell no, she better be here til I die. I'm dying first. She can wait her turn.

"Then you won't," he chuckles taking a fast turn.

"Oh yeah, hit the curb why don't you," I tell him, aggravated.

"Ian hitting the curb," he says while hitting another one.

"Oh so the curb hitting you," I say sarcastically, holding on for dear life.

"Pause," he laughs. Ain't shit funny.

I reach down and pick up my phone that I didn't even respond I dropped. Durk hadn't hung up. Durk may not even be alive.

"Nigga drive," I say, thoughts taking over my mind. I can't lose another brother bro. My heart can't take it. Who will my child have if something happens to me or nardo? Or me and Nardo, depending on how shit is going.

"Ain't you just tell me to slow down," he remarks.

"Oh so you talking back," I say, in a motherly tone.

"No ma'am," he answers quickly, speeding up. I'm surprised we haven't crashed yet. He didn't stop for any stop signs, red lights, or people. Nigga just been zooming past everything. I swear if we get pulled over and he stops imma shoot him my damn self. Save the cop some bullets.

We finally get to the hospital and I practically jump out the window. I rush into the doors.

"How may I help you," the woman at the desks asks. I take a moment to catch my breath. Being pregnant ain't it, sis.

"I'm looking for Dayvon Bennet," I tell her.

"And you are-"

"His fucking sister. Where is he?"

"Upstairs," she answers, typing at her computer. "2nd floor, room 209."

"Thank you," I answer before taking off. The elevator decided to be a bitch ass nigga today, so I run up the stairs. It's only the second floor anyway.

205.

206.

207.

208.

"209," I say and burst in. I see a window broken open. Nobody is in the room. I look down and see a bloody hat.

I reach down to see if it's Vroy's and look under the bed. There's a dead body. I back away, trying my hardest not to scream. I end up tripping and falling down, landing in some more blood. He can't have bled this much. Somebody else got shot. I want to know who he is, but I'm scared.

Melly walks in just in time and stares at me while I'm on the floor. He rushes to me, checking my body for injuries.

"It ain't mine! The blood ain't mine," I say, gripping rightly onto him.

"Then who is it for?"

"Under the bed!"

He looks under the bed.

"Damn, they fucked that nigga up." He laughs. Like it's funny. Of course this is funny to Melly. It's normal for him. He pulls the body out by the man's dreads. It's not Vroy or Durk. I let go of the breath I was unintentionally holding. Thank God. Praise His name, church.

"Who is it," I ask thinking he would know him. He seems to know everybody, or at least know them enough for them to want to kill him. Everybody wanna kill Jamel. Melly. Melvin. Marcus. All of them.

"A dead nigga," he responds and I have to fight the urge to swing at him. No fucking duh.

"You know him," I ask, trying to keep my sass to a minimum.

"Yeah," he says turning the body around to see his face. "Only his face tho."

I see the bullet wounds, all over his body. No wonder there's so much blood.

"Somebody else got shot," Melly says, looking around the room. He isn't phased by the dead man right beside him, who has several bullets in their body. But I am, and I can't take this. Especially pregnant.

I stand up, and throw up in the nearest trash can.

"Weak ass stomach," Melly says with a chuckle.

"Nigga I'm pregnant," I respond, wiping my mouth. Man, I need a fucking toothbrush.

"I forgot that fast," he laughs, standing up. "Let's get outta here before they think we did this shit."

"Right," I say, rushing out the room. "Where you know his face from?"

"I don't know," he responds. "It's Florida, everybody know everybody."

"I wanna get out of Florida," I tell him, taking the elevator down because I can barely walk.

"Look," he says, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Moment we get Wick out, Imma take you out the country. Anywhere you wanna go, it don't matter."

I smile at him as the doors open. "Bet."

"There he is," a police officer says, pointing at Melly. Fuck. There's about 12 officers here. How the fuck do we get out of this one.

"Back upstairs," Melly says, pulling me back into the elevator.

"What are we gonna do," I cry out. I'm not going to jail. And I know for a fact those officers saw me. I think Officer Gates was there too.

"Jump out that window," he responds.

"Nigga, we're not on the first floor. The second floor is high as fuck here," I argue.

"Just think of it as me being Chris Tucker and you being Lee, and this is Rush Hour."

I can't believe I'm really doing this.