Page 288 of Kentrell

His fist cracked across my mouth so fast I ain’t even see it coming.

“You back talking me, nigga?”

Blood hit my tongue. I stumbled a step but caught myself.

“No—”

“No what?”

I swallowed hard. Felt that sting building behind my eyes but kept it down. “No, sir.”

That made him grin. The ugly kind. The one that let me know he wasn’t done yet.

“Nah, nah… stand up straight. Lemme see you like a man.”

I squared my shoulders, staring him down without meaning to.

“Oh, you got some bass in your chest now, huh? Got a little hair on your dick, and you think you grown?”

He shoved me hard in the chest.

I stumbled back, bumped into the coffee table, knocking over some old magazines and an ashtray.

“Kenny, stop it!” My mama called from the back, but her voice was too soft, too tired to matter.

“You want me to stop?” He laughed, pulling his shirt off like he had something to prove. “Then do something, lil nigga. Go on. Swing on me.”

I shook my head, heart racing. “I don’t wanna fight you.”

“Oh, but you gon’ fight me.” He lunged. Hit me in the ribs. Then the shoulder. Then my jaw again.

I covered up best I could, but he kept coming. Laughing with every shot like this was a game to him.

Somewhere between the second punch and the third, something in me snapped.

I swung back.

Caught him right in the side of the face.

He stumbled, but it only made him madder.

Next thing I knew, he tackled me. We hit the floor hard. Furniture scraping, shit falling off shelves.

My breath caught… fear and rage mixing into something hot and dangerous in my chest.

And then… like my body moved on its own…

My hand went straight for my waistband.

Fingers wrapped around the grip of that .380.

I yanked it out.

Stood up fast.

Aimed it dead at him.

My hands shaking so bad I could barely keep it steady.

---