Page 7 of Certified Pressure 4
I looked around the room again. My mama was still cryin’, my pops was quiet, my family was prayin’, and for the first time in a long time, I felt peace. Not numbness, not pain, but just peace.
Yeah, I had holes in me. My body was weak, my arms wrapped up, and my chest was burnin’. But a nigga was alive. I made it.
I looked down at my son, then back at Pluto. “God ain’t done with me yet.”
My mama wiped her face and nodded. “No, baby. He’s not.”
I smiled, barely able to keep my eyes open. “Good, ‘cause I got a lot more life to live.”
The monitor next to me beeped slow and calm, soundin’ like a rhythm I could move to. I closed my eyes, lettin’ that warmth from my baby soak into me, and the love in the room wrap around me like a blanket.
I thought about Kamir again. I saw his smile and heard his laugh. He was gone, but he wasn’t lost. He lived in me in a different way now, and in every breath I took.
I made myself a promise right then, that this second chance God gave me, I wasn’t gon’ waste it.
I’on know how much time passed but nurses and doctors kept runnin’ in and out my room, checkin’ the monitors, writin’ stuff down, changin’ my IV bags, askin’ me how I felt like I was supposed to have an answer. All I knew was pain. My chest felt like it had been cracked open and glued back together wrong. My arms burned like hell. My leg was heavy, sore, and wrappedso tight I couldn’t feel nothin’ but the pressure. Every breath I took came with a sting that reminded me how close I came to not takin’ another one.
They said I was lucky. The word rolled off the doctor’s tongue like it was somethin’ to celebrate. “You’re lucky to be alive,” he said. “You flatlined twice.”
I ain’t even know how to respond. I just blinked slow and stared at the ceilin’.
Lucky…
Nah, I wasn’t lucky. God just wasn’t done with me yet.
One of the doctors came back in later, explainin’ some shit that barely stuck in my head. He said both chest shots missed my heart by inches, and one grazed a lung but didn’t collapse it ‘cause the bullet passed through clean. The ones in my arms missed major arteries, and the one in my leg hit muscle, not bone. He said they worked fast to pull the bullets out and patch me up before I bled out. I had tubes, drains, and stitches holdin’ me together, but he told me I could move a lil’, but not much, just enough to stretch my arms or turn my head if I felt strong enough. He kept stressin’ that I needed to rest, but I already knew I wasn’t built to lay around. As long as I was alive, I was gon’ move and make shit shake.
Every sound around me felt sharp, from the machines beepin’ low, and the soft shuffle of nurses’ shoes on tile. I ain’t even know how long I had been here. It could’ve been hours, or even days. Everything blurred together.
Then I looked to the side. Prestyn was laid out in the clear crib beside me, wrapped in a cream blanket with gold trim. He looked peaceful, with his mouth halfway open, and nose shaped just like mine. Every time his tiny fingers twitched or he made one of them baby sounds, my chest tightened. I almost ain’t make it to be in his life. That thought alone had tears sittin’ in the corners of my eyes.
The door cracked open and I heard my mama’s voice before I even saw her. “You need something baby?”
She walked in with that slow stride, one hand holdin’ her Birkin, and the other brushin’ her hair back like she was tryna hold it together. Her face looked tired, but her eyes was sharp. Pops followed right behind her. He was standin’ tall but I could see his pain showin’ through his silence.
Kay’Lo and Renza had been in earlier. Both them niggas looked rough. Kay’Lo had his hood pulled low, his eyes bloodshot. Renza looked like he hadn’t left the hospital since I got shot. They ain’t say much, but just stood by the bed and said, “We got you, Cuz.”
Now it was just my mama, my pops, and my son.
Pops finally broke the silence. “I need to know who did this to you.”
The words hit me hard. It was like somebody turned the lights on in my head, and all I saw was Kashmere’s face.
It all came back fast—her eyes filled with rage, that gun shakin’ in her hand, and me starin’ right at her, thinkin’ she would never do this shit to me… But she did.
I felt my heart race under the bandages. That was a pain no doctor could fix.
I looked away, tryna calm myself. “I’on even know what to say, Pops.”
Mama’s voice cut in, soft but heavy. “You know something. Was it her?”
I looked at her. She ain’t even have to say no name. We all knew who she meant. Her eyes was steady on me, waitin’.
I couldn’t even look her in the face. I turned my eyes back toward Prestyn. “I just need time,” I said low. “Let me think.”
Pops stepped forward, his voice raisin’ just a lil’. “Time? Son, somebody put five bullets in you. You almost died. We don’t need time— we need answers.”
My mama reached for his arm, rubbin’ his back to calm him down. “Let him talk when he’s ready.” She looked at me again. “But you’re going to tell us, Pressure.”
