Page 28 of Forbidden Love

The sun hit me like a slap, too bright for the way my insides felt. My Glock was still warm in my hand as my chest heaved. The heat pressed down on me like the guilt I felt for making them niggas do the work that I was tired of doing with my momma. I kept my hopes up with her each time I took her to a facility and begged her several times to make shit right by getting clean.

I stared out at the block like it was a battlefield, niggas cleared the way and was no longer standing on the porch. Even the three pitbulls laid on the porch like they didn’t want to chance getting shot by me. I tucked the gun into my waistband as I walked to my truck. My hands shook and that hadn’t happened in a long as time since I was a kid hiding in the closet, too scared to be left at home by my fuckin’ self.

I slammed my door shut and the silence inside of my car hit like a punch to the gut. I gripped the wheel tight as I stared out the windshield. It felt like I was falling apart inside. My cell phone buzzed, and I knew it was Sol. I ignored it because I didn’t know how to explain to him once again how I let my momma get me out of character, especially in front of niggas that was supposed to respect me.

I blew a nigga brains out and didn’t regret that shit at all. I started the engine to my truck and swallowed down all of the emotions that I kept buried. I wanted to cry but it was no point in crying, it never fixed shit or made my problems go away. I pulled off slowly with the bag of money tucked in the trunk. I thought about pulling up to one of my bitches house and having one of them cook a home-cooked meal for a nigga to make me feel better.

Truth was, nothing made me feel better. Everything was temporary. I joked to make myself laugh, ate to make myself feel worthy. Soon as it passed, I was back feeling fucked up on the inside. My soul was heavy since a kid. Lately I been moving without much of a purpose besides going along with the plan that Sol had set out for the both of us.

I been moving like I got a shadow trailing me. There was so much pressure sitting on my chest. I couldn’t sort my feelings or never knew what my purpose was. I knew the things that gave me temporary happiness, I sought after it and then was still leftfeeling incomplete. The shit that I was feeling on a day-to-day basis wasn’t the type of shit that a person could just say out loud.

When you started talking a certain way, muthafuckas would automatically assume that you was paranoid. Sol wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to express myself, he’d call me dramatic or tell me to man up and get out of my feelings. I couldn’t help but to complain to myself about everything that was bothering me. My joints ached, breath always short. My knees cried when I stood up or sat down. When I smoked weed, it wasn’t enough to keep my self-pity thoughts at bay.

It didn’t matter how many niggas I killed, none of that shit made me feel powerful. I wasn’t suicidal or reckless, but I felt fated, like some clock was ticking somewhere. I didn’t know if it would be a bullet or my heart giving out on me. I felt it in my gut that I didn’t belong. I thought about the conversation that I had with Dr. Toby. Our conversation never left his office because I didn’t go around making excuses for myself.

I didn’t want Sol or my father to feel bad for me and use the medical terms against me. Dr. Toby came into my life as a court ordered therapist back when I caught my first gun charge at the age of eighteen. Back then I had no clue with what was wrong with my thoughts being so fucked up. One moment I could tell myself that I was tripping and then the next, I believed all the negativity that came to mind.

Dr. Toby saw through me; he was quiet and patient, he was never quick to report me to have me committed with all the nutty shit that came out of my mouth. He didn’t flinch when I told him about the blood and the pain. I told him all about the nights my momma disappeared and left me to eat dry cereal and sometimes spoiled ass milk.

He listened when I told him how much I hated my own mind. Three months of Dr. Toby listening to me, he told me…

“You have severe bipolar depression, Rashad. You’ve been living in cycles called manic highs, where you feel unstoppable, then you go to soul crushing lows where you feel like you don’t deserve to live.”

I made a joke and ate my chips when he said that shit to me because I didn’t want to believe it. I was put on meds; I took them only when my thoughts became overbearing. The pills made me feel dull as fuck. Like somebody turned the world’s color into black and white.

“Rashad, don’t ever think that nobody could ever love you through all of your different emotions.”

Although my mind was fucked up, Dr. Toby’s words stuck with me till this day. I let out a few tears then tried to roughly wipe them away. I stopped crying long ago in front of folks because they would only see it as weakness. Dr. Toby’s words played over and over inside of my brain. The familiar ache buried deep behind my ribs held on to hope. Something inside of me starved to be loved.

Not on no bitch feminine shit, but I wanted to feel something other than what bitches made me feel like because I had the money to trick. I wondered if someone would ever see me pass the money and the gold diamond grills and nice ass cars. I had a lot of what ifs about the shit.

I ain’t never believed in fairy tales or thought a woman could save me. But maybe a woman could help me save myself because I was spiraling. I could go home right now and take my medicine to tranquilize my thoughts. What good would that do when I would get right back in the same mood whenever the meds wore off.

Chapter 16

Yeremy

“That peach looks like it has been through somethings.” Larae joked as I took a sip of my wine.

I eyed the terribly lopsided version of a peach on my canvas and giggled, because it definitely looked like a struggle painting.

“I told you that I’m not good at this.” I playfully rolled my eyes.

Larae leaned over toward me, his reading glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he further inspected my painting.

“It’s alright, I guess it’s not that bad.” He smirked.

I covered my mouth to hide my laugh as I leaned into him. I was thankful that he planned this for us tonight. He told me that he wanted to do something together that I had on my bucket list. Since Bianca and Shardae was always busy, I told him that I always wanted to do a sip and paint. He made it happen along with dinner that he cooked. I looked down at his perfectly ironed shirt that had splashes of paint against his Ralph Lauren Tee.

It was definitely the thought and consideration that he put into this that counted.I thought to myself. Larae hadn’t pressed me for any pussy, and we had been talking for a full month. He was very thoughtful and nerdy in an endearing way. They onlything that was hard for me to do was connect with him. I was giving it my all because he really was a sweet guy.

I inhaled his expensive cologne then looked up at his green eyes. Casper would love if I made it work with Larae. He respected his profession, and I enjoyed having chairs pulled out for me before taking a seat. As we talked, I kept telling myself in my head that I was happy, and lucky to be here with Larae until my phone buzzed in my pocket.

My heart dipped because I already knew who the hell it was.

Sol…

I slowly pulled my phone out and shook my head.

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