Array Ashley - Tale of the Murda Mamas

He checked his rearview, and noticed a white truck that had been behind him for a minute. What the fuck? He thought to himself as he switched lanes, and just as he expected, the truck switched lanes also. He then knew he was being followed. Just to be sure, he made two rights hitting each block with speed, and the truck followed him. Zyir reached under his seat and pulled out his Tech-nine. He set it on his lap and glanced at the truck once again. He wasn’t about to play the “cat and mouse” game, so he decided to see what was happening. He approached a red light, and the white truck was behind him about two car lengths. He tried to look and see who the driver was, but the black tint kept him or her a mystery.

Zyir threw his gear into park and hopped out with his gun in hand. He pointed at the truck as he walked toward it. “What’s good, my nigga?” he yelled as his jaw tightened and he was ready for whatever. He couldn’t see who was behind the glass, so he hesitated to squeeze. The truck burned rubber and sped past him, as Zyir kept his gun on the vehicle. He pointed the Tech at the truck until it was out of sight. He didn’t know who was following him, but they were about to get aired out by his little friend.

Zyir hopped back in his car and headed to Liberty City to pick up the rest of The Cartel’s money. “Whew!” he huffed as he turned up the music and proceeded. “Maybe, I’m tripping,” he said, pulling off.

Carter’s eyes were bloodshot red as he sat near Miamor’s bedside. His worry for her had taken a toll on his body. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since finding her, because he sat in the rocking chair in her room all day and night to make sure that she was okay. He was grateful that she had come out of her coma, but she was still so weak, and he felt that he needed to be strong for her. He wanted to keep her spirits up until she was fully recovered. He leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees as he sighed. He watched her stir in her sleep slightly.

“No… no…!” she groaned while still asleep. She began to struggle and lash out as if she were fighting someone.

Carter stood and approached her bedside. “Miamor,” he said. “Wake up, ma.”

“No!” she screamed as she sat straight up in bed and fought against Carter. It was dark in the room, and Miamor had been dreaming of Mecca killing her. When she awoke and found a man by her bed, she thought that he had come for her again. She was sweating and her breathing was la bored

She was shaking, the terror in her heart paralyzing her while her eyes darted wildly around the room.

“Miamor, it’s me, baby… it’s just me!” Carter said soothingly as he held on to her tightly.

When Miamor heard Carter’s voice she broke down in his arms. “He’s going to kill me!” she sobbed as she held on to him like a frightened little girl clinging to her father.

Concern was written all over Carter’s face. He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look into his eyes. “Who, Miamor? You have to tell me who you’re afraid of,” Carter said. He was determined that when he found out the identity of Miamor’s attacker, he was going to kill him.

Miamor saw the sincerity in his eyes, which only made her cry harder.

He sighed and pulled her to his chest. “Shh. It’s okay, ma. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I almost lost you once. I won’t lose you again,” he promised.

He scooped Miamor into his arms and carried her to the rocking chair. He sat down with her and stroked her hair while he rocked back and forth.

“I can’t stay here, Carter,” she whispered. She gripped the collar of shirt in fear. She was holding on to him for dear life.

“Shh… I got you, ma. I promise you-”

“Carter, no!” Miamor yelled as she sat up shakily and looked at him with sad eyes. She wanted to be a part of this charade. She wanted to live here with him, but with Mecca around, her life would always be at risk. “I can’t live in this house. I don’t feel safe here. I won’t stay here, Carter. If you try to make me, I’ll run. I’m like a sitting fucking duck in this bitch!” she cried. She had never been this emotional, but since coming out of her coma, her fear had rendered her helpless and feeble. All she did lately was cry. “He can touch me here. I have to go to a place where he can’t find me.”

“Who, Miamor? Who the fuck is after you? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” Carter said in frustration. “I’ll handle that nigga. You don’t have to run. You don’t have to worry about it if you just trust me. Give me your burdens, ma,” he whispered as he put his hand gently behind her head and pressed his forehead against hers.

Miamor desperately wanted to give her all to him. She wanted to put her life in his hands, but how could she, when the one man she feared on this earth was Carter’s flesh and blood? She hated Mecca just as much as she loved Carter. If I show him who I really am, I’m going to lose him, she thought as she shook her head and kissed his lips. “I can’t Carter. You would never understand. Just please get me out of here. Right now. I need to feel safe,” Miamor pleaded.

It hurt Carter that after all they had been through, Miamor still didn’t trust him enough to feel secure in his home. He tried to understand where she was coming from. He figured that she was just paranoid from her attack. She was afraid, and he was determined to give her a sense of security. “Alright, ma. Let me get you dressed then we’ll go. We’ll go wherever you want to go,” he assured her. He placed her back in the bed and put a pair of sweat pants on her.

He touched her with such gentleness that it made Miamor yearn for him, not in a sexual way, but in an emotional way. He was so stable. He was always so focused and in control. Every move that he made was calculated concisely. Miamor wanted to depend on him and take his lead, but it could never happen. In the grand scheme of things, they would always be adversaries. Like Romeo and Juliet, their allegiances lay on different sides, while their hearts were in each other’s hands.

“Let me get your pain medication. It’s in the master bedroom. I’ll be right back,” Carter said before kissing the top of her head.

She nodded and watched him disappear into the hallway. This man is my soul mate, but we can never be together, she thought grimly.

She looked over to the nightstand that was beside the rocking chair. A gun lay on top of it. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing in pain as she stood to her feet. Her legs felt like Jell-O, but she used all her energy to make it over to the stand. She leaned against it and took deep breaths as she grabbed the gun. Holding the pistol in her hand caused a wave of relief to wash over her. She gripped it as her head hung on her chest, and she inhaled deeply.

Miamor had been through hell, and she would never be the same woman that she was before. Her body was scarred for life. She would never be able to forget what had happened, because the war wounds would be a constant reminder of her plight. Like a Jew who had been terrorized by Hitler or a slave that had been victimized by their master, Miamor would always remember. She would always feel the pain; she would always harbor fear, resentment, and insecurity… she would never forget. Mecca had changed her life for the worst, and now she had to refocus. She had to retrain her body, and she had to regain composure over her emotions, because she was determined to get back at Mecca. But, she didn’t have a choice but to wait. She had to give herself time to heal.