by Deja King
Daquan was so caught up in the lashing he had been putting on his wife that he didn't even notice Genesis retrieving the gun he left on the kitchen counter until he had it raised and pointed in his direction. "Lil' fuck, you un lost yo' damn mind! You gon' make me beat you with the tip of my gun."
Daquan reached his hand out to grab the gun out of Genesis's hand, and when he moved his leg forward, it would be the last step he'd ever take in his life. The single shot fired ripped through Daquan's heart and he collapsed on the kitchen floor, dying instantly.
Genesis was frozen and his mother began crying hysterically.
"Oh dear God!" Teresa moaned, trying to gasp for air. "Oh, Genesis baby, what have you done?" She stared at Daquan, who laid face up with his eyes wide open in shock. He died not believing until it was too late that his own son would be the one to take him out this world.
It wasn't until they heard the pounding on the front door that Genesis snapped back to the severity of the situation at hand.
"Is everything alright in there?" they heard the older lady from across the hall ask.
Genesis walked to the door still gripping the .380-caliber semi-automatic. He opened the door and said in a serene voice, "No, Ms. Johnson, everything is not alright. I just killed my father."
Two months later, Teresa cried as she watched her son being taking away to spend a minimum of two years in a juvenile facility in Pemberton, New Jersey.
Although it was obvious by the bruises on both Teresa and Genesis that he acted in self defense, the judge felt that the young boy having to live with the guilt of murdering his own father wasn't punishment enough. He concluded that if Genesis didn't get a hard wake up call, he would be headed on a path of self destruction. He first ordered him to stay at the juvenile facility until he was eighteen. But after pleas from his mother, neighbors and his teacher, who testified that Genesis had the ability to accomplish whatever he wanted in life because of how smart and gifted he was, the judge reduced it to two years, but only if he demonstrated excellent behavior during his time there. Those two years turned into four and four turned into seven. At the age of eighteen when Genesis was finally released he was no longer a young boy, he was now a criminal minded man.
"Get the fuck outta my house!" Teresa screamed, as she stood in the entrance of the bedroom door. Teresa's initial reaction was to drag the woman lying on her back out of the bed, but seeing the horrific shock on the woman's face made her quickly reassess that decision. Teresa and the other woman both seemed to be stuck on pause, and the only person being on fast forward was the man who continued getting his stroke on as if nothing was going to stop him from busting a nutt.
"Oh shit! I'm almost there!" the man moaned, speeding up his pace as if oblivious to the fact that he had a viewing audience.
Teresa couldn't believe she was watching as her husband fucked another woman right in front of her face. Immediately, flashback images consumed her. She thought back to all the bullshit she had been enduring for the last six years.
In the beginning, Kevon seemed to be Teresa's saving grace. She had a baby girl, who was just over a year old, had no money, no job and a bleak future. The landlord had given her an eviction notice, and Teresa was going to have to go live with her mother so she and her baby wouldn't be homeless. But that never happened, because Kevon swooped in and took on the role as her man, and a father to her daughter, Genevieve. Teresa was so enamored, that when Kevon asked that she and the baby come back to live with him at his crib in Charlotte, she packed up and left Philly, the only place she had ever called home.
Teresa felt like she had died and gone to suburban heaven, when she first arrived at the handsome two-story brick house on the tree-lined street. She had grown accustomed to living in drug infested project buildings with hallways smelling like piss, and where trash replaced grass as landscaping. Inhaling the fresh, clean air in the south seemed like a life she would only daydream about, not actually live.
But Teresa's daydreaming quickly turned into a never-ending nightmare after marrying Kevon. He was no longer her saving grace, but instead the cause of her demise.
"What the fuck is you doing here? I thought you wasn't gonna be home for another hour," Kevon spit, after finally busting a nutt and pulling himself out of the stiffened woman.
Teresa's mind was so far gone with reflecting on the horrors of the past, that at first she didn't hear her husband.
"Bitch, don't you hear me talking to you?" Kevon continued.
"Nigga, fuck you!" Teresa barked, coming out her daze. "You so damn trifling, you gon' bring another woman in my house and fuck her in my bed? I'm so sick of your disrespectful bullshit, I don't know what to do!"
"I swear I had no idea he was married, or that this was your home!" the fear stricken girl who looked no more than eighteen said, pleading her case to Teresa. She jumped out of bed, scrambling to get her clothes on, in an attempt to escape without the ass whooping she assumed his wife was about to put on her.
But unbeknownst to the teeny hopper, Teresa was beginning to grow so immune to her husband's revolting behavior, that she refused to waste her energy on beating any of his women down. Plus, she believed the girl when she said she was clueless to Kevon's marital status. This here situation needed to be handled with one person-her husband.
"You ain't got to explain shit to her! This any house. It ain't my fault she brought her ass back home early."
Teresa stood with her eyes twitching. This nigga is determined to have a throw-down up in this mutherfucka, andl'magive it to him! "Little girl, I think it's best you go. I need to deal with my husband."
The girl nodded her head in agreement with Teresa's request, and leaped up to make an exit.
"I'll call you later on," Kevon said, casually, making it clear he wasn't pressed about how pissed Teresa was.
"Ma, who was that woman that just ran up out of here?"
Teresa looked down at her seven-year-old daughter. With all the anger consuming her, she had forgotten she was there. "Genevieve, baby, she was nobody. You go to your bedroom and close the door. I got some things to handle with your father."
Genevieve looked over at her father as he stood in only his boxer shorts, before asking, "Daddy, is everything okay?"
"I'm good," he answered, pulling out a box of cigarettes from his pants pocket and grabbing a pack of matches off the dresser to light up.
"Genevieve, g'on to your room and color or something. I'll be there in a minute."
"But I'm hungry."
Teresa slit her eyes at her daughter, not in the mood for no whining. "I'ma tell you one more time to go to your room," Teresa said, in a threatening tone that Genevieve knew all too well. "I'ma make you something to eat when I'm done in here. Now g'on!"
Genevieve looked back at her daddy, then her mom, before walking out their room. But instead of going to her bedroom like she was told, she sat down in the hallway corner, determined to find out what had her mother so angry.
"Teresa, I don't feel like hearing whateva bullshit `bout to come out yo' mouth," Kevon said, slipping on his jeans.
"You should'a thought about that before you brought some young ass girl up in this house!"
"Oh, would it make you feel better if I would'a brought some old ass woman up in here to fuck? I mean, I'm just saying..."
"You know what, Kevon? Why don't you pack up your shit and get the fuck out. Clearly this ain't where you wanna be no more, so I think it's best you leave."
Kevon gave a low chuckle before taking a pull off the cigarette and laying it down in the ashtray. "I hope you ain't been dabbling in my stash, because only some powerful yang can have you speaking out the side of your neck like that. `Cause I ain't going no motherfuckin' where."
"Well, you won't be staying up in here with me with this disrespectful bullshit. I'm tired, Kevon. From you getting other bitches pregnant, having ho's stashed up in apartments, to them blowing up my phone looking for you. Now, you so sloppy wit' yo' shit, you bring
ing broads to the place I lay my head. I can't live like this! I won't live like this!"
"Bitch, have you forgotten where I found your busted ass at? You was a broke-down ho, with not even one dollar to your name. You didn't even have enough money to buy milk or pampers for your baby. If it wasn't for me, you and Genevieve would still be in Philly, struggling just to get by. So save all that `you can't live like this'. You better be happy you gotta place to live."
"Oh really? You don't want to leave? Then I'll leave, `cause anything is better than this." Teresa turned to walk away, facing the fact that she was fighting a useless cause.
"Where the fuck you think you going?" Kevon yanked Teresa's arm, stopping her from walking away.
"Get the fuck off of me! I told you I'm done wit' this shit."
"Nah, we ain't done until I say we done. I been taking care of you and a child that ain't even mine, and you think you gon' just leave me? You fuckin' crazy! That's not how this shit work. I pulled you out of those projects and made an honest woman outta you, so you owe me your life just for that."
"I don't owe you shit! And if I did, I've paid my debt in full having to deal wit' all your drama over the years. Now, get the fuck off of me! I'm taking my daughter and getting the fuck outta here."
The next thing Teresa knew, she was hitting the floor from the impact of the punch Kevon landed on her face. This nigga been cheating on me for all these years, now he wanna put his hands on me too! Aahh, hell no! Teresa thought as she lay on the floor staring up at the man she once believed was the best thing that ever happened to her.
"You see what you made me do? I've been nothing but a provider for you and Genevieve, and this is the respect I get. That's why you gotta treat women like hos and tricks, `cause ya' don't `predate nothing. But you my wife, and you will respect me."
"Kevon, get away from me! I promised myself I would neva let another man put their hands on me, and I meant that shit!"
Kevon grabbed Teresa by her hair and dragged her over near the dresser. Teresa was swinging her arms and kicking her legs, irate and scared, not knowing what Kevon was going to do next. But Kevon was undeterred.
"You think you gon' talk shit to me in my house where I pay the bills? I don't give a fuck if you caught me up in this crib everyday wit' a different bitch, you show me respect. But just like you gotta beat obedience in your children, I'ma put the fear of God in you," he said, grabbing the still lit cigarette from the ashtray.
"Kevon, no-o-o-o-o-o!" Teresa screamed out as little pieces of ashes were falling down, barely missing her exposed skin.
"Ain't no use in screaming now. You should'a thought about that shit before running off at the mouth." Kevon lifted Teresa up off the floor like a rag doll. Her petite frame dangled in the air as Kevon pointed the cigarette towards her face. "Now, where shall I leave my mark? Some place where you can constantly look at, as a reminder that you'll always be my bitch."
All anyone could hear were the gut wrenching cries of pain as Kevon mashed the cigarette into the upper right side of Teresa's left breast.
Before he released her hair and Teresa dropped to the floor, she caught a glimpse of the devilish smirk on Kevon's face. The pain was overwhelmingly excruciating, but seeing the gratified look on her husband's mug as he was leaving her there to suffer gave Teresa the strength to fight back. With his back turned, believing she was in no condition to defend herself, Teresa grabbed the marble lamp off the nightstand, and with all her might, slammed it over Kevon's head, not once, not twice, but three times.
Exhausted from using all her strength, Teresa let the lamp drop out of her hands, and when she looked up, she saw her daughter, Genevieve standing only feet away with a blank stare on her face. Teresa then looked down at Kevon, and blood was pouring from the open gash on his head.
"Oh shit, he's dead!" Teresa mumbled, as she shook his rigid body, looking for any sign of life.
"Ma, is Daddy dead? Did you kill Daddy?"
"This man here, ain't none of your Daddy," Teresa said, firmly latching onto her daughter's arm.
Genevieve's eyes filled with tears. She heard the harsh words exchanged between her parents, but didn't want to believe they were true. Kevon was the only father she'd known, and although he didn't treat her mother well all the time, for the most part, he had been decent towards her. But now her mother was affirming the worst; Kevon wasn't her father, and now he was dead.
"I can't believe you killed my Daddy!" Genevieve said, under sniffles, still unable to call him anything else.
"Didn't you hear what I said? That man ain't none of your Daddy!" Teresa screamed, pointing to the dead body. "Now hush up with that crying! I need to think." Teresa's hands were shaking and her head throbbing. She wanted to get away from Kevon and leave him with some of the pain he had caused her, but murder was never part of the equation.
"Ma, what you gon' do?"
"You mean what we gon' do? We getting the hell outta here. Go to your room and pack up as much stuff you can fit in here," Teresa ordered, opening the closet door and handing her daughter a suitcase.
"But I don't wanna leave Daddy like this!" The tears were now flowing down Genevieve's face.
"Look at me. I said, look at me!" Teresa yelled, holding her daughter tightly. She knelt down on the floor so she could be eye level with Genevieve. "I know you scared, baby, so am I. But mommy had to defend herself. I didn't mean to kill Kevon, it was an accident, but the police probably wouldn't believe me. I would go to jail and they would send you away to some foster home. I don't want to lose you, baby, so we have to leave."
"And go where, Ma?"
"I'm not sure, but somewhere far away, where nobody knows us or can find us. All we have is each other now, so please, baby, don't fight me. Do what Mommy says. Go to your room and pack up your things. I'll come get you when it's time to go."
Genevieve looked over at Kevon and back into the eyes of her mother. She grabbed the suitcase and left the room.
Teresa wanted to break down and cry, not to mourn the death of her husband, but because she knew her life would never be the same again. She spent the next hour packing up her belongings and trashing the place. When Kevon's body was discovered, she hoped that it would appear as if someone had broken in looking for either money or drugs. It was known in the streets of Charlotte that Kevon was heavily involved with the drug game, and other illegal activities.
Before Teresa left, she grabbed the murder weapon and wrapped it up in a towel before putting it in one of her bags. She then went to Kevon's closet and took the money he always kept in a pair of Timberland boots. She knew Kevon had another spot where he stashed his drugs and real paper, but had no idea exactly where it was, nor did she have the time to try and figure it out. The money Teresa took wasn't enough to ball, but it would hold them over until they found a new home.
"Genevieve, it's time to go, baby," Teresa said, calmly. She held her daughter's hand and looked around the place she'd called home for years. Not only would their lives change, but so would their names. Teresa and Genevieve no longer existed, she decided, closing the door and escaping the madness.
koo4►z to housewife
Sweet Dreams
Chantal was standing in the building that represented her new future. Everything that happened in the past was of no consequence. Today was the beginning of the rest of her life. Growing up in the projects of Southside Chicago, where she stood right now was said to be the impossible. There always seemed to be limits put upon her dreams. While most of her homegirls' biggest ambitions were to date the local drug dealer, Chantal had always wanted more. She came into the world believing she was special and deserved the best in life. When her friends would brag about a new pair of shoes some guy bought them, Chantal felt a guy should buy her the whole store. It wasn't just because she was the prettiest girl in her neighborhood and school, but she was more beautiful than any star on television and she didn't have their money to buy the illusion. Her beauty was God-given and her mother a
lways told her how blessed she was. She stressed the importance of not using her looks for evil, which she considered to be for selfish material gain. That never sat right with Chantal; she often said to her mother, "What was the sense of God blessing me with such a gorgeous face and body if I can't use it to my advantage?"
Chantal thought back to how her mother read the bible every morning at the breakfast table. Up until the very end, Mrs. Morgan continued to try and instill morals into her willful daughter. She would bribe Chantal to go to church every Sunday by promising her a new outfit or buying her something that she knew they couldn't afford. But one day that was no longer enough for Chantal and she ended that abruptly. Mrs. Morgan knocked on Chantal's bedroom door and she was just lying in bed staring at the wall. First her mother thought she wasn't feeling well until Chantal said, "Why should I waste my time and best clothes to go to a place where I'll never meet my husband. Plus people that go to church are the biggest sinners anyway." With that, Chantal put the covers over her face and waited for her mother to close the door. From that day on Chantal went into full-blown rebellion.
Chantal had made it clear to her parents that her sole goal in life was to marry a rich powerful man who would spoil her like the star she was supposed to be. She was tired of seeing her parents struggle all their lives barely making ends meet. It seemed like yesterday that she was sitting on the school bus admiring a picture of a very wealthy mogul whose face was splashed across the front cover of a magazine with the headline KING OF NEW YORK. That photo and inside story was her motivation to leave the hood behind and seek the jet-set life she craved.
The road Chantal traveled to get here definitely wasn't an easy one. When she arrived in New York with the $7,000 she stole from her mother, she soon realized that would only get her so far. After renting a hole in the wall room on a weekly basis she immediately started hitting the club scene in the heart of the city. One night while seductively gyrating in the middle of the dance floor she caught the eye of a well-known video music director. He promised that if she listened to his advice he would make her a music video queen. Even then Chantal thought prancing around in videos was beneath her, but she knew it would get her within touching distance of all the music bigwigs. In her mind she felt that was all she needed; once the music industry honchos got an eyeful of her, one of them was bound to put a huge rock on her finger. The next day she called the director and he kept his word. Now seven years later she was about to marry the most powerful man in the music industry. Who said that dreams never come true?
