MYRICK
When I saw Shariece walk out of her apartment, I almost couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked, even with the few pounds she had put on since I had last seen her, which was in a Leon County courtroom, days before I was sentenced. I followed her to an apartment off of Jackson Bluff. “Must be the boyfriend’s crib.” Shariece was at his place for a good long time. “Up in there fucking, I bet.” Rage came over me at the thought of her fucking another man. I clenched the knife in my hand I had pulled from the glove box. My initial thought was to kill them both, but the thought of laying a hand on my Shariece made me sick to my guts. The only way she and I would ever have a chance to reconcile was to get rid of him. I waited for two hours in the parking lot until it got dark when Shariece finally came out, storming down the stairs of the second-level apartment complex. She looked scared. “What the fuck did he do to her?” I watched her drive off before I went up, gripping the knife tightly as I held it out of sight in one of the pockets of my hoodie. I was dressed in black, wearing a cap and dark shades. I made my way up to apartment 2B, the same crib I saw Shariece run out of, and rang the doorbell. He didn’t answer, so I banged on the door.
“Hold the fuck up, damn,” I heard him say. Yeah, he sounded like a pussy. When did she start dating punks? I could hear this motherfucker stomping toward the door from inside his crib. He flung the door open wearing only a pair of ugly-ass purple satin boxers, holding a wet dishcloth up to his face.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I grabbed him by the throat and pushed him back inside and slammed the door behind me with the butt of my left foot.
“So you’re the boyfriend.”
“Man, who the fuck are you?” he asked, attempting to break free from my grip, but the more he struggled, the tighter I made my hold. I could have busted his windpipe if I wanted to, but that would have been too easy, and I like to have a little fun first, and I was going to play with this one like a new action figure. There was a long gash across his chest that ran from the left armpit to the right, so Shariece had already worked his ass over. There was glass and a busted computer on the floor, so I knew whatever had gone down, it was nothing nice.
I pushed him back over one of the end tables, causing a lamp to crash and break to the floor.
“Did you hurt her?”
“Hurt who, man? Who the fuck are you?”
I kneeled down at him as he felt pain in the lower part of his back.
The minute I brandished my knife, I could feel his fear seep in.
“I’m not going to ask you again. What did you do to her?”
“To who?”
“Shariece!” I yelled, as I planted the sharp top of the blade into his leg. He hollered out as blood seeped from the deep gash I had made. I took the knife stained with his blood and held it up to his throat. “Did you hurt her?”
“Man, I didn’t do shit. Look at me. I’m the one bleeding.” I get out of prison only to find that this is who she’s been shacking up with? She replaced me with a twelve-year-old? “You tell that bitch that I’m going to put her ass on blast to anyone who will listen. She’s fucked with the wrong—.” I slashed him across the throat before he finished his threat. He grabbed at his throat, throttling about as he attempted to stop the blood gushing from his neck.
I watched as the last seconds of life drained out of his eyes as blood pooled into the carpet. “You can’t do anything if you’re dead.”