Page 74 of Kentrell

She said that during our last visit, eyes narrowed, her voice low like she didn’t want the walls to hear.

I agreed with her, because my mind was on a particular person. But standing on this block, snow brushing across my shoulders, wind cutting through my coat like it knew my name... her words felt like prophecy.

The metal railing was cold beneath my palm as I climbed the stairs to the third floor.

Each step sounded louder than the last.

Three knocks of truth.

By the time I reached the top, I already knew something was waiting for me on the other side of that door.

Didn’t know what.

But I felt it.

The key turned with a click that echoed too sharp in the hallway. I stepped inside, and the scent hit first—burnt jasmine incense and stale air freshener, trying too hard to cover up sweat, sex, and secrets.

And then?—

the sound.

Moans.

Loud. Freaky. Familiar.

Unfiltered.

My jaw clenched, and I didn’t move for a second.

I justlistened.

Didn’t need to call out. Didn’t need to ask.

I knew that voice.

“Suck that shit, Danyell!”

Star.

The door to the back room was cracked, just enough for a slice of warm yellow light to spill across the floor.

I didn’t move.

I’d seen so much grimy shit in my life, I was numb to most of it. Thought nothing could really shock me anymore.

But this?

This shit right here?

It fucked me up.

I wanted to yell out, make it stop—just to get the image outta my head. But my voice wouldn’t come. I was too busy trying to piece it all together.

Uncle Yam. And Star.

His own fucking niece.

And Star? She never clung to nobody. Always kept her distance. Detached like sex meant nothing—which, to her, it probably didn’t.

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