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I climbed back through my window, my arms trembling as I pulled myself inside. The second my feet hit the floor, my body gave out, collapsing in a heap. Every muscle screamed in pain, my chest heaving like I couldn't catch a full breath. I tried to move, to push myself up, but it was useless. I stayed there, slumped on the ground, my hoodie sticky with blood—some mine, some his.
And then it hit me.
Tears slid down my face before I even realized it, hot and relentless. At first, I thought it was the pain—the aches, the bruises, the pounding in my head—but it was deeper than that. I buried my face in my arms, trying to stop it, but I couldn't.
I wept.
Not just for my body, broken and battered. Not just for the way my ribs screamed every time I tried to breathe. But for Trey. For what he did to me. For what I had to do to him.
I would've never guessed he'd do me like that. My boy. My brother. The betrayal cut deeper than any punch or kick those niggas threw at me. His face stayed in my mind, twisted with that smug look like he had no regrets.
But then I saw it again—him on the ground, his body jerking as the bullets hit. The sound of the shots echoed in my head like they were still ringing out. The smell of gunpowder. The way the blood splattered.
I curled tighter into myself, my arms wrapping around my knees as the sobs wracked my body. I was bawling, my tears soaking into the carpet beneath me. I felt so small, so powerless, even though I'd just taken a life.
I don't know if I was crying because of the pain in my body or the emptiness in my chest. I don't know if it was guilt or anger or just the weight of it all crashing down on me.
All I knew was that nothing would ever be the same again.
My door creaked open slowly, and I couldn't even lift my head to see who it was. My whole body hurt too much. The sound of footsteps creeping closer made my heart race until I heard his voice.
"Lil Kee."
It was my dad.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to stop crying, hurriedly wiping my face even though it still felt sticky from tears. "My name is Kyree," I managed to choke out, my voice cracking under the weight of everything. I knew he probably jerked his head back at that, but I didn't care.
Suddenly, I felt his hands grip my hoodie, pulling me up from the floor and setting me against the edge of my bed. I winced, the pain shooting through me like fire. He knelt beside me, his eyes sharp and full of something I couldn't place.
"Who did this?" he asked, poking at my side. I flinched each time his fingers pressed too hard. He noticed and shook his head. "They did real damage, Kyree. They could've killed you."
I sighed, hating how helpless I felt in front of him. "That gang... that gang Trey be with."
His jaw tightened as he eyed me, his gaze stopping on my hoodie. He reached out, grabbing the fabric and tilting it under the light. His expression darkened.
