Page 22 of The Love of Priest

Priest had to admit, although he'd only known Britain for a little while, he was letting his guard down quicker than usual. He caught a vibe of peace from her. He didn't feel the need to be on his toes constantly or to be ready to off her before she offed him.

"Keep telling me your story." Britain turned the television off, sitting up so she was at attention.

Priest nodded. "Where did we leave off?"

Britain held her finger up, signaling him to halt. She got up from the couch and went to retrieve her journal. Priest chuckled at the fact that she managed to jot all these things down. She returned and reclaimed her seat beside Priest, flipping a few pages in the journal.

"You left off on the part where you came home, and the house was empty." She clicked her pen and positioned it so she would be able to begin jotting things down once he started speaking.

"Right, so after I got kicked off campus, I came home, and the house was empty. I took the back way in ‘cause I ain't want our nosy-ass neighbor to tell my ma I was home way earlier than I was supposed to be," Priest chuckled. "We had this big window where the couch was. It basically gave us a view of the front of the building. I remember looking through it and seeing all our shit outside. Our couch was so damaged, looked like it was thrown from our fourth -floor window. My moms had this cherrywood dresser her grandma left her when she passed, and all the drawers were missing. All our clothes were scattered along the yard in broad daylight.

“I was only fourteen and ain't know what the fuck to do, so I just sat on the floor until my mom showed up around five. It was evident that we had gotten evicted, but I was a little in denial. To me, there was no way she wasn’t paying the bills. We were living the best we'd ever lived. She got me nice things, kept herself looking good, and dude—" Dude was the term he used to refer to his mother's husband, Terrence. "He stayed looking sharp. I was confused about how we all managed to look like we were living good, but we ended up being put out like shit. The more I sat, the angrier I got. I'd always been an angry kid since I was being lied to from day one, so when I clicked out, there was no calming me down. I started fucking up the apartment as much as I could. In my mind, this was all just some big-ass misunderstanding. There was no way we were getting put out. My mom looked at me with the guiltiest set of eyes I'd ever seen before and told me there was no use and that I shouldn't spend my time being angry like an ignorant child. Instead, she claimed I should have spent my time going downstairs to gather all my good and expensive shit before people started snatching it." Priest chuckled with a shake of his head.

Thus far into his story, Britain wasn't much of a fan of Sylvia. She would never discredit someone's parenting, but Sylvia sucked at being an adult and a mother. It was clear that Sylvia was too selfish to ever need children, but she had them anyway. All she cared about was herself.

"That night, I remember my mom giving me enough money to take the bus to J'Ru's house. I asked where she and dude were gonna lay their heads, and she told me to stay in a child's place. I got on the bus with a big black trash bag full of the few of my clothes that remained downstairs. When I got to J'Ru's, his mom accepted me in with open arms. I remember just sobbing while she held me. At that point, I felt like I was too old to be crying, but I really couldn't hold it in. I remember my mom disappearing for like two months after that. I found out that my little sister Jazzy was living with my auntie Evette and her crooked-ass husband, Mike. Me and J'Ru took the bus over to where they stayed after school one day, and I remember seeing Jazzy sitting on the steps in front of their building. She was five at the time and only in kindergarten. When she saw me, she got so happy. She ran up to me and J'Ru, giving us a big hug. I remember asking her why she was outside, and she told me she usually had to wait until Mike got home from work so she could get into the apartment. I was hot when I heard that. She was only five, and they had her sitting on the steps alone for four hours. I blamed myself for that a lot. If I would’ve tried harder to figure out where she was, she could have been with me at J'Ru's house." He sighed before running a hand down his face.

Britain realized whenever Priest mentioned his sister Jazzy, he spoke with so much love and conviction. It was evident his younger sister meant a lot to him, despite the fact that half of her creation was thanks to the man he hated with his entire being.

"Jazzy ended up coming with me that night. No one called for her or even looked for her, and that caused my blood to boil. Jazzy was innocent, way more innocent than I was, and no one attempted to figure out where she was." He shook his head. The way his face was contorted made it evident that he still hadn't come to terms with everything. It didn't matter how long ago it happened; he was still angered by it.

Priest halted the story for a moment, something he did when he just needed time to recollect himself. Britain didn't mind. Even she needed a moment.

"J'Ru's mom made sure me and Jazzy were comfortable on the couches she had in the living room. One night, Jazzy ended up wetting the couch she was sleeping on. She woke me up to help her, and I did. Jazzy wasn't a bed wetter at all, so I was confused by it. When I got her into the bathroom, I started the water for her, and I remember asking why she was sleeping with no bottoms on. She looked up at me and told me that—" Priest cleared his throat as he looked straight ahead instead of giving Britain eye contact like he often would.

"She told me that Uncle Mike told her she had to sleep with no bottoms on to make things easier for the both of them. Jazzy was only five. She was naive and impressionable, and Mike took complete advantage of that. The son of a bitch had been molesting my five-year-old little sister since the first night my mom carelessly dropped her off at his house. At that point, my anger turned into rage. I didn't know what to do. I was fucking lost. Here I was, fourteen years old, helping my sister after she had an accident in bed, only to hear that she'd been getting molested for two whole months. I'd never had an urge to kill until then, if I'm being honest. I wanted Mike, Evette, my mother— everyone who had anything to do with the abuse Jazzy went through while at the hands of that sick-ass nigga— dead.

"Jazzy was confused at my anger. Mike had manipulated her into thinking what he was doing to her was normal and that she should be happy because it made her a big girl."

Britain was disgusted. She wanted to throw up everything that was brewing in her stomach. Swiftly, she shut her journal, sitting her pen down. At the sound of the journal shutting, Priest snapped out of his reminiscent thoughts and averted his attention onto Britain.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, wondering why she stopped jotting things down.

Britain shook her head. "I-I can't hear any more."

She had never heard something so vile and sinister. She couldn't bear to listen to Priest go into detail about what Mike did to Jazzy. Her stomach, mind, and heart simply weren’t built for it. If he went any further, Britain was sure she would regurgitate all she had eaten that day.

"I'm sorry," Priest apologized. "It's my first time ever telling anyone. I should have been mindful."

"It's not your fault," Britain assured him. "None of it was your fault."

"Thank you," Priest expressed his gratitude. The look in his dark orbs assured Britain he was appreciative of the moment.

Britain nodded her head. She wasn't sure whether she wanted Priest to continue with the rest of his story. She remembered the first night they went to the diner, he gave her a full disclaimer that the story of his life was an inclining progression of hell. At the time, Britain just thought Priest was trying to scare her off because he truly had nothing interesting in his life aside from the criminal charges he was facing. After hearing the anecdote of Jazzy within his overall life story, she was beginning to regret ever doubting him.

Britain wasn't sure where to proceed from there. The story left a cold and disturbed atmosphere surrounding them.

"Go get dressed," Priest instructed as he rotated his head in her direction. A questioning look masked her face, but he quickly answered her unspoken question. "I'm taking you out."

"Was that an order or a polite request?" Britain raised her arched brow.

Priest let out a chuckle, followed with a sigh. "My fault. May I take you out?" he corrected himself.

Britain sat beside him acting as if she was in deep thought and trying to make a decision. "Depends on where we're going."

Priest sighed at how much of a pain in the ass she could be. "Just go get dressed," he insisted.

She eyed him skeptically before getting up. She trashed her pint of ice cream before she drifted off into her bedroom. "I'm gonna head out to go to my place. You'll be ready in an hour or two?" Priest stood up as he read a text message from J'Ru.

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