The 'N' Word, Book 1

by Tiana Laveen

  Her damn blood froze within her and her brain felt like it would explode. She ran her hands through her hair, messing up her do, causing it to cascade down, spiral out of control. She shook from the inside out and the outside in; her entire core was falling to pieces.

  “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking out.” She held onto her resolve – all she had left…

  “Jeeeesus Christ! So you’re just gonna keep on lyin’, huh?! Just keep on playin’ me? You think this was a game? It was fun, right?! Aaron Pike is in prison, needs a little company… I’ll fuck wit’ his mind and I have no intentions of really bein’ wit’ the likes of him or worse yet, you knew who I was all along!”

  “Aaron, that’s not true!”

  “He don’t need to know the real me; this is just for fun, for an experiment, right? Get inside a felon’s mind…see what makes him tick. My real name is none of his business. He don’t mean nothin’! I don’t give a shit about him!”

  “Aaron, stop it!”

  “It all makes sense now! You had an excuse as to why you wouldn’t come visit… you had an excuse for everything! You never put your mailing address on the envelopes, Mia. At first I thought it was just you bein’ safe at first, and that made sense. You didn’t know me; I coulda been a lunatic or somethin’. But then you got to know me, and you still kept secrets while I bled the truth about myself all over the place for you. I’ve never kept anything from you, nothin’! Everything you wanted to know, I answered. I never asked you about your address, though I did notice you never offered. I always believed if I asked, you’d give it to me, and I was in here, so what did I need it for anyhow? I only had a P.O. Box but then I got to worryin’ about my letters bein’ read in here by staff, so Dr. Owens agreed to mail them out for me. He had all of the Pen Pal addresses. Dr. Owens was mailin’ out my letters to you for me over the last month or so, I knew he had it, so everything seemed on the up ’nd up. Besides, we were sharin’ so much more, right?!”

  He cackled, an angry, fiendish, demonic laugh that broke her damn heart and dared her to hang up the phone.

  “… I don’t mean shit to you, do I?” His voice was cold as ice.

  “Yes you do, Aaron. Yes you do!” She popped up from the bed and swiped a tear from her eye, not knowing quite what to say or do.

  “Liar! I can’t trust you! I don’t even know who you are. What else have you lied about, huh? Probably every damn thing about you is a lie! What’s fiction and what’s fact?!”

  “Aaron!” she cried, her voice trembling. “I never meant for this to happen, for it to go this far! I love you! My feelings for you are real!”

  “Goodbye, Mia.” The man’s voice shook at least as much as hers. “Don’t write me, don’t call me and don’t even bother bringin’ your ass up here now. I got enough trouble in my life. I don’t need any more.”

  “Don’t push me away Aaron, please!”

  “I didn’t push you away, Mia, and I’m not doin’ it now. You got rid of your own damn self. You did this!”

  And then, she heard the dial tone.

  She stared at the phone in horror; her cell phone blinked the longevity of the call: exactly 7 minutes.

  “No!” she screamed out, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. She fell back on the bed, grabbing at her robe as her chest ached with pure agony. Aaron, I love you! I fell hard for you… and I’m helpless… And the pain she felt drove that truth home. She could handle him being out of her life, but she couldn’t handle him hating her, thinking she never cared for him, never wanted him – and that her words were false, made up tales to lure him into some sadistic game built on the grounds of loneliness and deception.

  “Oh, noooo!” she wailed into the sheets, gripping fistfuls of cotton as her uncontrollable sobbing tormented her soul. The pain was so intense, it took her breath away. Her ribs ached as her body moved about in unnatural ways and the few remaining tendrils of her hair still up fell loose and cascaded all over her arms and back like a dark cloud offering a warm hug and kiss of sweet, broken hearted surrender.

  For several hours, that was where she remained…

  In bed, wrapped in the sheets, eyes becoming puffy from the unrelenting tears. And then, at last, she sat up…

  Sniffing, she looked about her bedroom and slowly got to her feet. She grabbed her cell phone, cleared her throat, and made a call, trying desperately to sound as normal as possible—to keep her tone devoid of evidence of the breakdown she’d just suffered.

  “Yes, uh…” She closed her eyes then pressed her fingers harshly against her lips, gathering her composure once more. “I need to speak to Dr. Owens, please. This is Mia… Mia Armstrong…”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  TROUBLE WAS A woman’s name…

  Machiavellian in spirit, her feminine airs wooed many a man…

  Dr. Owens was no different, and despite a few of his patients’ insistence, he was rather partial to the female gender, even swayed by it and made into a fool a time or two in his not so distant past…

  Simply put, he was a bit of a relational recluse, unable to fit his square behind into the circular shaped peg. His voicemail was filled with another ill-fit sort, causing his vacation to be cut shorter than change from a sly shop owner.

  “Jesus…” he sighed as he waited in his car for the light to change and go onto the onramp of the expressway, back to work. His head filled with various reports and declarations from the administration. One unfortunate announcement was that Mr. Aaron Pike had gotten into a dreadful fight that morning with another inmate.

  He’s been on his best behavior and as soon as I’m gone, he loses complete control! Damn it! I swear sometimes he is like a child set out for complete self-destruction!

  Added to his misery were the one too many rather frantic voicemails from Ms. Mia Armstrong – the one whose perfume lingered behind her, but not in an annoying sort of way. Rather, in a seductive, charming, mistress-of-beauty way…

  He could only decipher her words here and there on the messages – she was speaking far too quickly and far too frantically – but he got the gist of her declarations. He was certain of many things, but he was no longer clear on whom he was dealing with… She’d become an Emma Frost or Mystique. Perhaps she always was, and of that possibility, he wasn’t terribly surprised as he wove together a new understanding. He had not forgotten her; how could he? She was lovely, from the top of her dark, wavy hair, down to her feet.

  Polite, well put together, seemingly intelligent… She had definite poise, smelled like cinnamon and vanilla candy in the flesh, and her smile was slightly seductive yet curiously sweet. He hadn’t missed the intermittent twinkle in the woman’s honey-colored eyes upon their initial meeting and though not taking himself for the empathic sort, he knew the type. Ms. Armstrong wasn’t stuck on herself; that was part of overall appeal, he was certain.

  A woman as beautiful such as she, yet seemingly unaware of her unbelievable presence, was like a magical elixir, undoubtedly attracting a host of admirers. She was confident, yet appeared slightly vulnerable. Open, yet a bit closed and reserved. She walked the line of dichotomy and hypocrisy, an invisible craziness ran through her veins, just below her surface, making her all the more exciting. Yet, she kept this trait hidden, in check, concealed by a love of reading, intellect, a dash of humor, and the love of the Lord. Yes, he could see all of this in her…

  With a beautiful gold crucifix hanging from her neck and a gold bracelet with two halves of a heart as charms – jagged, spaced out, and broken – she’d stood in his office, looking stunning. He remembered every detail. She’d donned a bold thumb ring and her lips were painted in a matte, muted pink shade… not too flashy, not too drab. Despite her appearance and appeal, the woman was humble, but she was far from meek. No, Mia played a role…

  He wasn’t certain if she herself realized that she did; it wasn’t unheard of for one to be unaware of one’s true nature. Authenticity was in the eye of the beholder, and he believed
most human beings did not truly know themselves or what they were capable of; therefore, reality was debatable, as well as self-awareness. Regardless, her confusion was almost palpable. Her beauty and even-tempered voice were an act, too. Mrs. Armstrong shielded her pain with artifacts and niceties, a good deed or two urged by the golden rule, morals, and societal laws. This was the training… this was the civilization administered medical cure to a lady’s broken spirit.

  As with many women that roamed the world, being given a title and living up to another’s ideal of perfection proved a constant juggling act, an unreachable task. Mia was no different in this case; only this woman, based on that twinkle in her eye, perhaps, had a taste for more devious acts, behaviors, and dare he say it, people. She was the type of woman he surmised would be attracted to the dark side of human nature – the person holding the guns, the power, and the badness of a million Buffalo Soldiers…

  Yes, something paramount had happened and he was uncertain as to what explosion and hysteria had taken place when he’d gone on leave. In the jumble of frantic voicemails, Mia stated she’d done something wrong, needed to speak to him, and that everything was falling apart. His most confusing yet intriguing patient was refusing to eat and had attacked another. Aaron, just like the incident that landed him there, had nearly beaten a man to death. His burst of violence that morning was described as “Blood curdling…”

  He did not appear to know his own strength, but more than likely, he did. He simply no longer cared. A collapse in progress had occurred, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  I know Aaron, now. He would not have just done something like this… Something happened, set this in motion, and it had to have been more than a mere threat. No, someone messed with his mind. It is the one thing he guards, keeps protected at all times. Someone must’ve gotten inside, and he came undone… Damn it! What the hell is going on with Holman this week?!

  There were other complaints, too. An attempted suicide by another inmate and patient of his as well, and a case regarding an esteemed female guard who was allegedly pregnant by an inmate. He shook his head in sadness and disgust, these emotions all rolled up into one like a spring roll, only far less tasty and definitely with no duck dipping sauce on the side. As he continued to drive, drawing closer and closer to the prison, he decided to first address Ms. Armstrong. Taking his phone in his hand, he dialed the number she’d called from.

  “Ms. Armstrong, this is—”

  “I know who it is!” Her voice trembled. “I called you at the prison but they said you weren’t there, but gave me your work cellphone. I’m sorry for calling so much… I’m just… never mind. Can you meet me right now? Maybe for coffee somewhere? Can we talk?”

  “Mia, actually I’m on my way to Holman right now. Unfortunately, due to other obligations, I don’t have time to stop for coffee. I told Warden Huckleberry I’d be right in.”

  “Can I meet you there then? At your office? I am not scheduled to come in today, but I need to if that’s where you’ll be.”

  He looked at the time, winced, then sighed.

  “Yes, I suppose that would be fine. I will be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “I can be there in thirty if I leave my house right now. Is that too late?”

  He couldn’t help but notice the way her voice continued to break up, as if they were having interference of some sort. However, they weren’t. There was no static, no background noise. The sounds were familiar, particularly the resonances he’d heard all too often during heavy emotional discussions. No, the woman was breathing erratically, and a new wave of concern came over him.

  She’s going to pass out if she doesn’t calm down…

  “Mia, no, that’s fine. Look, I think you may be hyperventilating. Are you having trouble breathing right now?”

  “…Yes, a little bit…I think, I think it’s the stress of it all.” Her voice continued to quake, as if the words were almost too hard to say. “I’ll be all right, just upset right now.” She sounded a bit more upbeat, as if trying desperately to pull herself together now that her condition was brought to her attention. “I had to call into work today, too. I never call in…”

  “Okay, I want you to get yourself a glass of water and take some deep breaths. Whatever is going on, we can discuss it when you arrive, and please drive carefully.”

  “Okay, thank you Dr. Owens. I will see you shortly.”

  The woman disconnected the call. He placed his cell phone down and tried his damnedest to shake the uneasy feeling growing inside of him. It was as if a tiny, thorny seed had been planted in the pit of his gut, and the damn thing began to sprout snappish things that sliced and leaked painful secretions reminiscent of burning battery acid. Things had fallen apart, a storm had brewed, and it all occurred while he’d enjoyed a quiet and quaint bed and breakfast on the beach.

  He’d needed the time off, the reprieve. There was something that ate away at the soul, bit by bit, by viewing men day in and day out on the verge of despair and giving up altogether.

  There was something about seeing the Aarons of the world, tormented, distressed, and worn-out souls who’d been so emotionally damaged by their environment that they truly believed their internal dial was set on ‘normal’ when it was actually idling on ‘deviant.’

  The problem with Aaron in particular is that, deep down, behind the violence, the misuse of power and energy, lived a genuine soul.

  Notwithstanding, the man’s brain was a thing of beauty but his horrific ways were outlets, symptoms of hellacious torment. Dr. Owens had gotten used to his kind, or so he thought. No one completely got used to being a mere couple of feet away from such an individual… the way their energy sucked all of the love out of the air, and their cold eyes showed no mercy or concern for others. One could be easily fooled, fall prey to the notion that Aaron was simply a henchman for the Devil, a mad man running wild, when nothing could have been further from the truth. And it was this fact that caused him to have to get away for a couple of days, to take care of his own state of mind.

  But then… the calls began to come in…

  It was as if a plug had been pulled, the water drained from his good times. His good times were no longer his concern, though. Aaron, who rarely lost his cool, had come undone. He didn’t dare call the prison and attempt to speak to the man on the phone. No, he needed to be eye to eye with the man, watch him closely. On the phone, Aaron could delve into his arsenal of defense mechanisms, hide his true intent, but in person, well, they were simply beyond that…

  I don’t know what hell is going on, if a full moon has come and made a mess of things, but I hope I can get to the bottom of this before something else around there explodes!

  “I KNOW IT wasn’t your fault.”

  “Then why am I in your office?” Aaron folded his hands over his knee and winced from the bright lights in the place. He chewed his inner jaw, causing the flesh around his lips to twitch and the skin by his eyes to crease.

  “You know the drill. You have to sign some paperwork.” Warden Huckleberry pushed the sheet gruffly before him, then laid down a bent, gnawed up pen before him. “Go on, sign it.”

  He caught the guy looking at him in a curious sort of way. “What?” Aaron slowly picked up the pen, but kept his eye on the man.

  “You need to see the nurse about the cut above your eye,” the man said grimly as he stared at it, seemingly looking at it from various angles. “Regardless, Hank definitely got the worse end of the stick.” He shook his head and turned away.

  “He attacked me first.”

  “I know,” Warden Huckleberry said under his breath. “Everyone knows what happened. But, do you know why?”

  Aaron shrugged his shoulders, though inside, he definitely knew.

  Orders from the higher-ups… But he kept the shit to himself.

  “You know.” Huckleberry leaned back in his seat. “You just won’t tell me. You need to speak up, Aaron. I’m tired of this shit.”
<
br />   “Ain’t nothin’ to tell. Can I go now?”

  “Yeah,” Huckleberry huffed and turned away from him as if once again completely repulsed by his mere presence. “You can go… Clark!” Huckleberry screamed out. “Pike is ready; take him back down.”

  The guard re-entered the room and placed the handcuffs around Aaron’s wrists. He left out of the office, feeling heavy, full of weight he couldn’t carry and wasn’t even his own. The emotional draw and drain was simply too much; he was so far on E, not even fumes remained. Thoughts he didn’t want to think made the rounds of his mind. He tried to push the woman out of that realm, to move on fast and in a hurry, but her goddamn signature perfume was all over his shit! He’d made the mistake of rubbing her letters against things – in his attempt to make the woman live with him in his tiny space, fill up his steel-bar-fenced abode with her inner beauty.

  Now, the smell nauseated him. He wanted her scent to die off, and her memory, too… but she simply wouldn’t, and his heart wouldn’t take no for an answer. His brain had filed for divorce, but his heart refused to sign the papers. He’d meant what he said to her, or at least he thought he did…

  I don’t go back on my word… I just don’t! My word is my honor!

  He regretted telling her to go away, he thought as he paced his cell. At last, the guard left him alone with his beleaguered thoughts.

  She lied to me! Everything she said was probably a damn lie. I just want to know why. Why would she do this, play these games?! But what does it matter?

  He sat down slowly on his cot. A few worn, metal coils poked painfully into his flesh…but he didn’t move. At that moment, he’d rather have felt pain than nothing at all…