“Aaaahhh!”
Her screams only excited Black. He continued to beat her until he drew blood and like magic, long welt marks appeared across her face, neck, chest, back, thighs, buttocks and legs.
Next door, Peaches straddled Tone and began riding him like a wild bronco. Up and down, around and around, she moved her hips rapidly, whipping it on him. Then suddenly, she came to a grinding halt. She thought she heard a scream.
“Aaaahhh!”
There it was again. Now, she was sure. Underneath her, Tone was puzzled by her lack of movement. He gently smacked Peaches on her big butt and began grinding her back in an attempt to remind her what they were doing and why they were there.
“P, why you stop? Come on, baby. I was just about to bust a nut. Whatchoo doing?”
Peaches didn’t even respond. Her full attention was focused on the wall in front of her and what was behind it in the next room.
“Did you hear that?” she asked. Her eyebrows frowned with her finger at her lips, telling Tone to be quiet. Somebody’s getting the shit beat outta them next door!”
No sooner than those words left her mouth, another ear-piercing scream penetrated through the walls. Peaches looked down at Tone.
“I know you heard that, yo!”
Jumping off of him, she ran naked around the bed and up to the wall to get a better listen.
Mad as all hell, Tone reluctantly got out of the bed to join her. With their ears pressed to the wall, all they could hear was a muffled male voice cursing somebody out. Bits and pieces of what he was yelling could be heard.
“…Bitch, you sorry now, ain’t ya… You should have never crossed me, bitch! You sorry ain’t ya? Well, don’t be sorry now, motherfucker….”
“You taking this thing a little too far. Yo, ma, what the fuck ae you doing?” Tone asked as he watched Peaches get a glass and put it up to the wall in order to hear better.
“What the fuck do it look like I’m doing?” she asked sarcastically.
“It looks like you’re being nosey,” Tone replied. “You supposed to be over here sucking my dick and fucking me. What the fuck do I pay you for? You’re supposed to be paying me the attention,” he said mumbling to himself, not really meaning it but still not understanding her.
Unbeknownst to Tone, Peaches herself was a victim of domestic violence. A short time ago, Peaches was brutally beaten by her boyfriend on a regular basis, eventually needing emergency room treatment. She remembered all the times people would just walk by as if nothing was happening to her. Peaches had promised herself, like every other woman of domestic violence, that if she ever saw anything like that happening to somebody else, she’d do what she could to stop it.
“Peaches, you need to mind your business. That’s a man and a woman’s business. They not bothering you,” Tone said, as Peaches rolled her eyes and ignored him.
Continuing his torture, Black beat and stomped Netta until she lost consciousness.
“Now look what you made Black do,” he said. The entire time he was beating her, he was also scolding her. “I bet you won’t take nothing else from Black, will you bitch?”
He asked, waiting for an answer that would never come. Taking her silence as disrespect, Black repeatedly lashed her again and again for ignoring him.
“Oh, you don’t got nothing to say? You want to play sleep, do you? Well, Black got something that’ll wake your ass right up.”
He threw down his bloody weapon and unzipped his pants. Pulling out his penis, he urinated on her head, further degrading her. Even after that, he wasn’t finished. He continued to methodically beat and taunt her mercilessly until he heard someone banking on the next wall.
“Yo, Peaches, calm the fuck down!” Tone said after watching her beat on the wall. Peaches stopped and quickly began to put on her clothes.
“Where the fuck are you going?” asked Tone.
“Next door,” she said with defiance.
This is un-fucking-believable. This just ain’t my night. I came here to get my shit off and now we playing save the day.
“Man, I’m not getting in the middle of no boyfriend/girlfriend disputes. The peacemaker always gets hurt. Yo, I’m not risking my life for somebody I don’t even know,” he said, trying to convince her with logical reasoning.
“Awe, nigga, you just scared!” Peaches said, challenging his manhood.
Just to prove her wrong, Tone rushed and got dressed following her out the door. The thumps on the wall had brought Black back to his senses. Paranoid that someone might have called the police, he grabbed his things and hastily left. He’d finish her off some other time, but right now, he had to go.
With Peaches leading the way, they went next door, narrowly missing Black fleeing the scene of the crime. Noticing the door was ajar, Tone pulled Peaches back and he stepped forward, taking charge of the situation. He knocked on the door firmly and waited for a response from inside. When none came, he knocked again. This time, the force of his knock pushed the door open wider. There, in the middle of the floor, was a body. An unrecognizable nude black female lay sprawled out in a pool of blood and urine. Her long hair covered her face.
Standing behind Tone, Peaches peeked around him looking and searching the room, as her eyes found the body. Hollering and screaming, she began to cry and ran back into their room to call 911. Cautiously, Tone walked toward the body, his eyes darted back and forth alert for any signs of danger. Finding none, he bent down and checked the woman’s wrist for vital signs. He found a weak pulse. He put his hand over her mouth.
Good, she’s still breathing, he thought.
He pulled out his cell phone and called 911. The smell and odor from the room was putrid. Tone could barely stand it. He felt like he was about to throw up. Her shirt, her body, the blood; it all made his stomach sick. While his eyes secured the room, he saw a purse on the night table. Curiosity of identity led him to the table. With the condition she was in, he wanted to notify her family of what happened. Digging around in her purse, Tone came across a wallet. He pulled it out and turned on the lamp to get a good look at the driver’s license. It read “Shanetta Jackson.” His mouth dropped as he looked at the DMV photo.
“Oh shit. This is Netta.”
A strange twist of fate had brought them together. They were destined to be together this night after all. Tone had no idea of the capacity. With Netta fighting for her life, Tone never left her side. He accompanied her to the hospital inside the ambulance, holding her hand the entire time. It was Tone that notified the Pussy Pound of the brutal assault. Like a concerned lover, Tone waited around with Mimi, Rasheeda, Fila and Petey, while Netta underwent emergency surgery to stop the internal bleeding. It was Tone who the doctor told the extent of her injuries to.
“The operation we performed was successful. We were able to stop the hemorrhaging, which is good news. The bad news is she hasn’t regained consciousness and she went into shock, but her vitals are rapidly improving. I believe she will make it. She’s a strong young lady,” the doctor reported back.
They all collectively breathed a sigh of relief. As they huddled around the doctor, their prayers had been answered.
“Now, let me ask you a question. Who in the hell did that to her and why?” the doctor asked, ready to help aid the police in any way possible.
That question weighed heavily on everybody’s mind. Who could have done this? And why? The only person that could tell them was Netta.
Chapter 21
The sanitized smell of hospitals always made Tone a little nauseous. It reminded him of his short stay in the hospital as a kid when a car hit him. However, everyday like clockwork, Tone stopped by Maryland General Hospital to check on Netta. She still hadn’t regained consciousness and was confined to the intensive care unit. Besides him, Tina was the most consistent visitor. Often, they’d run into each other and he’d stop and chat, then go about his business.
Since the first night Netta arrived at the hospital, Mimi hadn’t been back.
The rest of the Pound only dropped by once in a while. They were too busy doing their thing and them niggas. Tone looked down on them for that. They wasn’t keeping it real with Netta. When he learned about Netta’s tragic family situation from Tina, her dead mother and unknown father, he was determined to be there for her as much as he could. Nobody should be left alone like this. His thoughts were just as true as his intentions.
Over the course of the next three weeks, Netta’s condition steadily progressed. She went from critical condition to serious condition, until one day she opened her eyes. Dazed, she came to, even though she was disoriented. For a minute she thought she was dead, she didn’t know where she was. It was so quiet, except for the steady hiss of the respirator and other life support machines. She touched cold steel guardrails still not realizing where she was. She squinted her eyes, trying to adjust her pupils to the bright lights. She looked around, seeing fellow patients lined up in beds to the left and right of her. Then, and only then, did she realize she was in a hospital.
Every inch of her body ached. Her head was wrapped in white gauze like a mummy. She had intravenous tubes running into her arm, and when she tried to call for help, her voice sounds died in her throat. Her vocal cords were weak from lack of use. She noticed a buzzer by her right side. She grabbed it and pushed the button activating a light outside her room. Netta vaguely remembered Black, the rape or the beating. She was so confused and in need of some answers.
Nurse McNeil was a big-boned black woman with a large bosom. She was assigned to the ICU and it was her who responded to Netta’s call. At first, she assumed that this was some family member requesting her presence. Entering the room, Nurse McNeil was shocked to see Netta, wide-eyed and conscious. A spiritual woman, she took this miraculous recovery as a sign from God.
“Sweet Jesus, praise the Lord!” she said, joyfully making the sign of the cross with her hand over her chest.
“What hospital am I in? How did I get here? How long have I been here? Who brought me here? What’s wrong with me?” Netta had a hundred and one questions to ask Nurse McNeil.
Answering as best she could, Nurse McNeil gently spoke to her like she was family. She told Netta she had been raped and beaten within inches of death. Over the last few weeks, it was Nurse McNeil who had become emotionally attached to Netta, tending to her personal needs. She had done everything for Netta, and for Nurse McNeil, it was more than a job or a paycheck, it was her reason for living. Nothing in life gave her more satisfaction than helping another human being.
“But, how… how… who brought me here?”
By now, Nurse McNeil was sitting on Netta’s bed, looking her directly in the eye.
“Calm down, chile. I told you all that I know,” she said, gently touching her hand. “Lay back and take it easy. I’ll get the doctor for you. He’ll be able to tell you anything else that you want to know.”
Before Nurse McNeil could get out the door, Netta asked her one more question. “Who left me all these balloons and roses?”
“Your boyfriend. He comes by here to sit with you every day.”
My boyfriend? I ain’t got no man, she thought.
“You got a good man there. He must love you an awful lot. He’s got a little accent, sounds like he’s from New York.”
So, it was Tone. It had to be. She didn’t know any other New Yorkers. But how did he find me? Netta wondered.
Making his rounds as usual, dropping off drugs and picking up money, Tone’s last stop was the hospital. Armed with a dozen red roses as usual, he came strolling into Netta’s room and boy was he surprised to find her awake and functioning.
“Oh, snap! Yo, when you come out of the coma?” he couldn’t believe his eyes. He had become so used to seeing Netta incapacitated and heavily medicated.
“Dang, don’t I get a hello,” she said, giving him her brightest smile. She was trying her best to look pretty, even though she felt ugly. Not even looking in a mirror, she was self-conscious of her appearance. She could feel the cuts and bruises on her lips and head.
“Yo, sleepyhead, what’s up?”
For the first time in weeks, Netta laughed and it hurt like hell. Her ribs were fractured, and she didn’t even know it. Seeing her wince from the pain, Tone rushed to her side.
“Yo, you alright? Want me to get the doctor?” he asked.
“I’m okay, my side hurts,” she said, shaking her head no.
Tone sat down in a chair next to her bed. He stared in her face. Damn she still looks good, even though dude did a number on her, he thought.
“The doctor told me that if you had gotten me here a minute later, I might be dead. Thank you,” she said, feeling like a little kid.
“Yo, don’t give me that charge. I ain’t no hero. The doctors are the ones you should be thanking.”
“Whatever Clark Kent. I’m still thankful for everything you did.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“Tone, tell me something. How did you find me to bring me here?”
This was the million-dollar question that Netta needed the answer to. Everything else added up, except the role he played.
“Well, I waited at the restaurant for you over an hour. When you didn’t show…” Tone went on to recount every last detail that led to their paths crossing that dreadful night. From the strip joint to Peaches and the hotel, to hearing the screams, to him and Peaches discovering her bloody body, Tone told her the entire story, overlooking nothing. For the first time in his life he came clean to a female. Yes, he was in the next room fucking Peaches and he let her know that. Why shouldn’t he? She was in the next room, right?
Everything he was saying made her stomach shrink and her breath a little short. She hoped he couldn’t see it from the look on her face. Netta had been hoping, more like praying, that he hadn’t found her. She could only imagine how she looked. It was then that Netta realized what an angel he was. The average man wouldn’t have helped. The average man wouldn’t be sitting here right now.
Tone, however, had some questions of his own that he wanted some answers to, but he kept them to himself. He figured in time he’d know, and he didn’t want to upset her or pressure her, so he changed the subject.
“Yo, you know Mimi is messing with my cousin, Mann, right? I bumped into Petey, Fila and Rasheeda once or twice coming to visit you. But, I don’t think Mimi’s been back since the night we brought you here. I thought she was your girl?” he inquired.
She’s only been to check on me once?
Netta felt kind of funny that Mimi wasn’t there by her side. For sure, Mimi should be seated where Tone was right now. But where was Mimi when she needed her? Netta was always there for Mimi in her times of need. She desperately tried to push the bad thoughts of Mimi out her mind, but something had to be going on with her. Besides, what could be more important that this?
Chapter 22
“Die, you bitch ass nigga! Die!” Netta screamed as she plunged the large hunting knife into Black’s chest over and over again. “What goes around comes around motherfucker!”
Popping out of her sleep she realized she was dreaming again. She looked up at the hospital ceiling; Black was nowhere in the room, only in her dream. This was the same recurring dream she’d been having for the past few nights.
“What’s the matter, Netta? You had another bad dream about that bad boy?” asked Nurse McNeil rushing to her side.
Damn, she must have heard me again talking in my sleep
“Yeah,” Netta admitted a little embarrassed.
“I know what the boy did to you was wrong. He hurt you real bad baby, I know, but you got to let it go. It’s human nature to seek revenge, but just remember the Ten Commandments, ‘Thou shall not kill.’ The Bible says, vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord! Everything has its time and right now, it’s time for you to heal. Not only your body, but also your mind, live and let live. God will handle this for you if you put it in his hands. I promise you, God will punish him. Don’t you even wor
ry about it,” Nurse McNeil said, feeling Netta’s pulse while she fed Netta some of her Christian doctrines.
“But Nurse McNeil, he tried to kill me. How am I wrong for wanting revenge?” Netta asked, her street mentality alive and well. She lived by the code of the streets, an eye for an eye. See, old habits die hard.
“Chile, you youngins are so violent these days. Y’all only have faith in what you can see. God will punish that boy on the Day of Judgment for the sin he’s committed against you. God is the judge of all judges,” Nurse McNeil preached. “Remember, Jesus turned the other cheek. Let him be your example, because if you fight fire with fire, you’ll only create a big blaze, and everybody will get burned. Everything bad that happens, something good must come out of it. You got to turn the negative into a positive.”
What good could possibly come from this?
By far, this was the worst situation that life had ever placed her in. Up until now, no matter how life had tossed her, she always managed to land on her feet, like a cat with nine lives.
With the help of modern medicine her injuries would eventually heal. Her psychological well-being was what was at stake. It was up to Netta to cure what ailed her mentally, but she was bent on revenge.
For weeks while she was recovering, Netta retraced the steps of her life, her struggles and successes. Even though she grew up with less than most, Netta still felt blessed to be alive, to have survived.
Netta’s first step to getting her act together was to let it go, like Nurse McNeil said. All the hatred she had in her heart for Black was consuming her. Netta forgave, but she didn’t forget. In order to move on, Netta knew it was time for a change. Time for her to make some decisions in order to take her life in a different direction. She had to break away from the streets, the street life and the life she was so familiar with. She’d have to break away from the game.
For the first time in her life, Netta decided to make a conscious effort to do the right thing, but she feared change. She didn’t know how to go about changing herself. Change represented the unknown and the unknown was out of her realm of thought. But she knew there was nothing right about her life. It certainly wasn’t right the way she used her body to get in a man’s pockets either. She didn’t even know their last names, just that they had a couple of dollars. There was nothing right about being a thief and a whore and Netta didn’t want to be neither of those things anymore.
B-More Careful Page 22
