by De'Kari
**** N. D. ****
The thought of moving literally terrified him. He was in that much pain. Every time he took a breath it felt like he was being stabbed in the chest by hella knives at the same time.
The days and nights ran into each other. He didn’t know how long he had been here because he constantly faded in and out. The sweat pouring off his body by the buckets was proof of his high fever.
Only God knew how many of his ribs were broken. But, it felt like all of the were to him. Mothafuckas were going to pay in the worst motha-fucking way imaginable. Once he got back on his feet.
All he could do is smile about what he had in store for the mothafuckas who were responsible for his fucking pain!
4 days later
There was nervous tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. The waiting room was packed tighter than a fat broad in a pair of Seven jeans. The look on the faces of everybody spoke volumes. There had been two altercations and stand-offs with the police already. Both times it nearly erupted into violence. The authorities wanted the waiting area cleared out.
That’s what caused the second altercation because the visitors in the waiting area made it clear that they weren’t leaving. When the police tried to force the issue, they wouldn’t back down. Hospital security had to get between them and the police. The first incident came when police detectives came into the room while Clarkola, French Tip and their mother sat watching over Voorheeze. He’d lost a lot of blood from the gunshot wounds and there were complications with the surgery, resulting in the coma that he was in.
One of the bullets hit an artery which accounted for a lot of blood loss. They were grateful that the doctors were able to remove the bullets from his chest and repair the damaged artery. Due to the amount of damage, he would possibly need a ventilator for the rest of his life, if he came out of the coma. That was the doctor’s prediction at least.
His mother took the news very hard. For years Voorheeze didn’t think his mother loved him because of the way she treated him. But if he could see how she was now, he would know that she did. She refused to leave his bedside at all not even to eat. French Tip had to finally bring her some food.
When the police detectives came with the handcuffs and a warrant stating that he was under arrest for murder, it was his mom that got Gangsta! She got all up in one detectives face, cursing and ranting that her name was Bernice and he better recognize. Just as he was getting ready to put the handcuffs on her, Clark stepped in and pulled her back.
Word of the interaction between his mom and the detective got out to the family and immediately the Wolf-Pack and She-Wolves stormed into Stanford Hospital ready to get it popping. Murda, Styles and Double G came as well. If the police thought shit was going to be sweet, they had another thing coming. Matters only worsened the next day when A.J. showed up ready to show out.
Though they hated to admit it, there was nothing any of them could do about the murder charge. He couldn’t just say that he was a bystander that got shot because the police had found gun powder residue on his hands.
Clark was lost. He wanted to ride down on Y.N.M. and make mothafuckas pay. But he didn’t want any more shit that could lead back to them and make things worse for his brother. He wanted them mothafuckas so bad. Standing there looking at his little brother with all those fuckin tubes sticking out of him, hanging onto life by a limb, made Clark want to turn it up. Deep down his anger stemmed from regret and guilt. He was wishing he had of spent more time with his baby brother, but he was busy running the streets, chasing females and making money. Neither of which could bring his little brother back.
French Tip sat in the corner by the window silently crying. The doctors said that there wasn’t a guarantee that her brother would come out of the comma. She prayed and prayed. She didn’t’ just want her big brother to pull through, she needed him to. Tip would be lost without her big brother. He was her protector. Voorheeze was the one that came to the school when the bullies used to mess with her. He’s the one that always made sure her birthday was special. Like the time when they were kids, he was a teenager on the run from the Feds and even though their apartment was under surveillance, he still managed to get inside to wake her up and sneak her out. They ended up at the taco truck, then played video games and shot some pool. She needed her brother.
Somebody knocked on the door, “Umm some young Hispanic dude is out here, he claims he’s a Pastor and that you know him Frenchie”, Nina stated in a hostile manner. Nina was one of the twins, she was on fire and ready to pop off.
“Yeah that’s Pastor Juan, I called him”. French Tip was wondering how Nina didn’t recognize Pastor Juan from the funeral, but it really didn’t matter.
Pastor Juan came into the room. Nina closed the door behind him. The atmosphere in the room was too gloomy. He knew he needed to give them some hope.
“Hello Everybody”, he spoke.
The two women spoke, Clark just nodded his head.
Father Juan walked over to Bernice. “Ma’am I’ve come today not just for your son, but for all of you”. As he talked to her, he took both of her hands into his and got down on his knees.
He looked her directly in her eyes. “I promise you that God can make miracles! You just must believe. I know you hear that a lot but I’m telling you the truth of what I know from experience. Two years ago, I was in a street gang, banging and killing people. Today, not only do I no longer gang bang, but I’m a Pastor!” This revelation shocked all of them.
“Pastor I believe in God. I just don’t know if he wanna help”. The truth of her feelings bringing more tears to her eyes. “I’m tired! I’m so tired! These kids are driving me crazy. They out there trynna be like their uncles and it’s just killing me!” The tears just poured down her face.
“I know, I know. You just got to give it to God. Let go and let God. He’s waiting to do something here. You just got to let Him.” He patted her hand and stood up.
As he turned away from Bernice, he looked at Clark. “Brotha God is telling me to tell you that vengeance is his and that going tit for tat is not the answer”. Clark wasn’t trynna hear nothin this Mexican mothafucka was talking about. If God had something to tell him then He better come tell him Himself, that’s the way Clark felt.
He continued toward French Tip, giving her a hug. “How are you holding up, sister?” He asked her with a voice full of concern.
“Pastor I’m not ready to break down. I’m just trying to be strong for my mother”, she spoke truthfully.
“Just hang on in there sister, God is God!” He squeezed her hands gently and let them go.
Next, he walked over to Voorheeze. He looked down at a lost soul. He mumbled some words in Spanish. Every one of them was watching him intently. Whatever he was chanting, he started mumbling a little louder.
Suddenly Voorheeze body jerked. Pastor Juan switched over to English then. It was clear now that he was mumbling a prayer. He spoke softly, yet with conviction. He was telling God if Voorheeze soul was indeed bought by Him, then he was indeed His child. And if he was His child, then to help His child. He was telling God that saving Voorheeze would ultimately save many lives.
Pastor Juan was speaking like he knew things that God didn’t, about Voorheeze changing and saving lives himself. What they didn’t know was Pastor Juan only knew this because God told him. Pastor Juan knew sometimes we had to remind God, so He would know, but more importantly so he would know we remembered.
“Heavenly Father in Luke 7:14 you told the widow’s dead son to get up! And he did! You told Lazarus in John 11:43 to come out! And he woke form the dead and came out. Father in John 14:13 You tell us that You will do whatever is asked in Your name so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. Well Heavenly Father, Lord Jehovah, I ask you in Jesus’ name, be glorified and show your Love, your Mercy and your Strength and awaken this man!” At that moment, he reached out and took Voorheeze’s hand.
**** N. D. ****
Milpitas
“Uuunnch!” Clink!
“Uuuurgh!” Clink!
“Uuuurgh! Aaaaw!”
Clink! After his twelfth rep. Batman let the dumbbells fall onto the rubber mat. That was his fifth set of dumbbell presses. He stood up and checked himself out in the mirror. Batman was nowhere near being a big muscle-bound nigga, but he had size to him. He stayed in the gym. Batman didn’t work out to be huge and buffed up. He worked out to stay strong and fit.
“Say man I’ve been watching you. Man, you drive pretty hard! Are you training for something?” The guy who was on the next bench over walked up to him and asked.
“Oh! Thank you. Uh no guy, sorry no training. I uh just normally workout with my pal and this is how we workout”. Batman responded trying to sound as preppy as possible.
“Wow! I wish I had a partner. The guys at the station always want to use the station gym but it just doesn’t do it for me.” The white guy told him.
“I know what you mean. It just isn’t the same without a partner”. Batman paused and looked around. “I tell you what guy. I’m barely halfway through. If you’re not done how about we finish together?”
“That’ll be swell. I’m Benjamin by the way”, as he extended his hand for a shake.
“Robert, Benjamin nice to meet you”. Batman took his hand and shook it.
They were at 24 Hour Fitness at the Great Mall in Milpitas. It was one of the gyms that usually had a big crowd. Batman has a membership, but he didn’t swipe in tonight. The white guy was just a tad bit shorter than Batman, but he was just as fit. He had a lot more muscle than Batman but surprisingly he wasn’t as strong as him. He drove just as hard on the weights. They ended up driving for two more hours, they were so into it.
At the end Benjamin was worn out, “Whew! Now that was a good workout”.
“Yeah, I’m beat, thanks for the push. I hope I don’t pass out at the wheel.” Batman began gathering his things.
“You’re not going to hit the shower?” Benjamin asked him.
“Oh no, I soak in the tub at home”.
“Oh, okay.” They shook hands and Batman headed out.
When he got to his car, he drove around the building, parking by a door that was slightly ajar. He took his time putting some gloves on. Next, he grabbed the brass knuckles and a plastic bag. He got out the car and walked in the door. He headed to the locker room, which was empty thankfully, except for Benjamin.
He was singing in the shower. Batman slipped on the pair of brass knuckles and made his way towards the back toward the showers. He stopped at the stall Benjamin was in and opened the door. Benjamin’s back was turned, he was soaping and singing away. Batman stepped inside the shower.
“How you doing Sgt. Costa?” Costa turned around alarmed. Whap! A right hook from Batman with those knuckles, knocked Costa on his ass!
Batman pulled out the plastic bag taking his time to enjoy it. He didn’t give a fuck if anyone came in or not. He’d kill them too. He placed the bag around the sergeant’s head and tied it. Being unconscious, he would die soon. With the water running, he wouldn’t be found for a while. Satisfied with his work, he left out, made it to his stolen car and drove off.
“That’s for you Robin.” He mumbled as he pulled off.
He didn’t know how to deal with what was happening with Voorheeze. He hadn’t been to see him because he was scared to lose his brother and he was angry because he was scared. At least that’s what they say. For now, he’d just keep up with what his brother asked him to do. Shit, Batman & Robin was for real! Neva mind that they both were a little crazy!
**** N. D. ****
Stanford Hospital
Everything was pitch black. A darkness like no darkness he had ever known. His movements were fluid, he felt weightless. The weirdest thing of all is he could feel his thoughts. Almost as if his thoughts were actually real actions. Like he could be or was his thoughts. What the fuck was this he wondered. Where am I? Why is it so fucking dark? He tried to open his mouth to tell somebody to turn on the lights, but he couldn’t figure out how to work his mouth. Shit he couldn’t feel his mouth or the rest of his body for that matter! Now he began to worry, what the fuck was really up!
“It’s okay Baby.” That was Aunt Pat’s voice He knew it. He knew her voice, but he couldn’t see her.
“Auntie where you at?” How did he do that? He didn’t speak he just thought it and it was.
“It’s okay nephew, I’m here with you, we all are”, Aunt Pat told him.
“Who’s we all? And what’s here?” He needed to know.
“Hey
Since I lost you… I can’t explain it. You were the only one who knew what happened to me.”
“It’s okay cousin, I’ve always been there”, Trisha tells him.
But I’ve let yall down. I’ve messed up so much in life, this time I’m scared. I think it’s over”. He knows that he is crying but he can’t feel any tears.
“It’s going to be okay son. Church! Sunday School!” Grandma says.
“I love you! Grandma.” Voorheeze feels so much love and warmth right now.
“Grandma, I need you. I know a piece of my mind was lost, when I lost you.” When he hears his comments, it’s not his voice. He sounds like a little kid.
“You’re lost cause you aint in the Church”, a man’s voice says.
“Who are you?” He asked the strange voice.
“I’m your grandfather son.
“Hey!... Hey”! Voorheeze calls out.
“He doesn’t know how, but he can sense that they are gone. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. It’s starting to get lighter.
Somehow, he could see. He was visioning his thoughts. His thoughts were his dreams. His dreams were real.
She was real. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her chocolate brownie skin and alluring eyes. She was smiling so beautifully. Her body was banging so hard, she could start her own gang.
She was the woman in his dreams. The one he compared all other women to. She was the one he wanted but couldn’t have. The one he’d been in love with since childhood. She was a good girl and he was all fucked up. She was dedicated to helping those in need and supporting the community.
He did dope, guns, violence and murder.
But look at her, fuck! Doesn’t she understand I didn’t ask for this shit? Can’t she see the good in me? If only I could talk to her, get her to understand. “Hey Li. . .!”
“I know what I did was wrong, but you didn’t have to kill me Voorheeze.” Who was that? Where did she go?
“Yeah! I didn’t even do anything to you. That shit was between me and Tasha blood. Who the fuck was you to kill me? Nigga you killed me over a broad!”
I’m tired of these damn voices all in a nigga
head. In my dreams.
“Voorheeze you bitch ass nigga, I wish I was alive bitch ass nigga, I’d do it again, fuck you! And you had to sneak up on me to do it. Yo little bitch ass couldn’t even face me! Nigga fuck you and Belinda.”
“Fuck! Make it stop! Every last one of them sick fucks got what they deserve!
“Aye youngsta, man I was just playing with you in the cell. Man, I wasn’t really gonna rape you. I was just testing yo gangsta. You didn’t have to stab me up like that Cuz. Aye Cuz, you hear me? Say Cuz! Alright fuck you then, O’ Bitch ass nigga! You lucky Cuz, I was gonna have yo chocolate ass sucking my dick bitch!”
“I miss you granny! It’s lonely here. I’m scared. Voorheeze you tried to help, but you messed up. He didn’t die and when he got out the hospital, he said it was all my fault for telling you what he did to me. He told me he was gonna teach me a lesson for running my mouth. I’ve been here ever since.” Damn little Lamar I’m sorry brah. When you told me what he did I just wanted to end your pain, but you can’t even hear me.”
Voorheeze didn’t realize he was in a coma. He’s been hearing the voices for so long in his sleep that he didn’t know that the voices are really h
is conscience fucking with him. He justifies everyone he’s ever killed. That’s how he copes. But his conscious doesn’t buy his justifications. So, his thoughts and dreams are haunted!
Now he can hear his mom but doesn’t know why he can hear her.
“Pastor I believe in God. I just don’t know if he wanna help.”
What? What the fuck is she talking about? God help for what? Who is she talking to?
“Mama! Mama!” She can’t hear him cause he’s not talking but he doesn’t realize that. “Chocolate what’s wrong?”
Who the fuck is that talking to her? What’s the fuck wrong with me? Voorheeze can hear everything that everybody is saying but he can’t say shit. He can’t move his body. He hears the guy saying something in Spanish. Who the fuck is that nigga?
“He’s my vessel and now isn’t your time my son.” The voice sounded like nothing he had ever heard. Like thunder or something.
“LaMont, wake up!”
**** N. D. ****
Pastor Juan was praying.
“Well Heavenly Father, Lord Jehovah. I ask you Jesus. In the name of the Heavenly Father! Be glorified and show your Love and Mercy and your Strength. And awaken this Man!” At that moment, he reached out and took Voorheeze’s hand.
The moment he touched him, Voorheeze’s body jerked like he had been electrocuted. He raised his torso off the hospital bed sitting straight up. At the same time, he opened his eyes and took a deep breath.
His mother jumped out of the chair. She ran over and hugged Pastor Juan thanking him. He told her it wasn’t him, that it was God. But she didn’t hear anything he said.
“I need some water”, Voorheeze whispered.
French Tip was crying. She was glad her brother was okay. Clark wasn’t feeling that God shit or whatever little magic trick the Migo cooked up.
Voorheeze’s chest was on fire. The pain was a bitch. The last thing he remembered was the shootout at the funeral. He asked them what happened. French and his Mama filled him in on everything, even his charges.
