For Colored Girls

I’d dozed off, when one of my crew members, Malik, barged into my bedroom.

“Yo boss! You gotta come. The white boy and Carmen trippin balls in the living room! They OD’d!” He was so high himself he barely stumbled into the room.

“Shit.” I jumped out of the bed and reached into my closet to grab the box of Naloxones, first-aid shots for overdoses on opioids. I sprinted into the living room set the box down next to Mikey, he wasn’t breathing. I pulled out the largest dose I had and stabbed his hip with it. He recovered within five minutes, his chest rising steadily up and down.

I turned to Carmen, she was close to giving out but I didn’t care I wasn’t going to waist my shots on her. I pulled the gun out of my back pocket and pressed it to her forehead. I pulled the trigger and with a loud bang her blood had splattered on the floor.

“From now on, no one does drugs with the white boy! And if you get high you do that shit in moderation! If I find your ass as fucked up as this around me imma shoot you till you just a bunch of holes!” I screamed. Everyone was high but they understood what was happening and scurried out of the living room.

I looked down to Mikey, oh imma beat that ass so hard when he wakes up.

2 weeks later

“Yo Mikey hurry the fuck up bitches got shit to do today!” I banged on the bathroom door violently.

“What the fuck are you doing? Jerking off? Get the fuck out!” I screamed. If I had to miss a shower again because of him I was kicking his free loading ass out.

He’d been living with me since the overdose so I could keep an eye on him. Not that I give a shit what he does, but he was my biggest money maker right now. And it was hard to find loyal workers out here. If he died I’d be kind of fucked.

“MIKEY!” I screamed louder. I don’t know what he was doing, the shower water wasn’t running anymore? A sense of panic ran through my body and I started lunging myself at the door to kick it down. When I finally broke it open he was lying on the floor naked, a needle in his arm.

“Oh you’re fucking KIDDING me!” I reached forward and ripped the needle out, pressing two fingers two his neck to feel for a pulse and pressing my ear to his chest to check for breathing.

He was alright, just shit faced.

“God fucking dammit!” I stood up and punched the mirror as hard as I could, screaming as I did so.

Shards of glass fell to the ground and I felt a prickly pain in my hand. I looked down to see a few pieces stuck in my knuckles, blood trickling down my fingers. I didn’t hesitate to pull the shards out and threw them into the sink.

Ding-Dong

The doorbell rang.

“Who the fuck is it?” I screamed. No answer. I growled and grabbed my gun from my back pocket, marching over to the door.

“WHO THE FUCK IS IT?”

Ding-Dong

It rang again but I swung the door open almost simultaneously.

A white man stood, his head covered in medium-length messy red hair. His eyes were a deep hazel and his face was dead of expression.

“And who the fuck are you?” I spat, looking him up and down.

“Gerard Way.” He extended a pale graceful hand, the look in his eyes intensifying.

I reached forward and gripped his hands with violent force, expecting to see him squirm or yelp. Instead he pulled my hand forward and turned it over.

“What happened to your hand?” He looked down at the bloody mess that was now my knuckle.

“None of your god damn business.” I yanked my hand away.

“I aint finnah ask twice. The fuck you want?” I glared at him.

“My brother.” He sighed.

“Who’s your brother?”

“Mikey Way. I know he lives here.” He said sternly.

“OH you Mikey’s brother? Yeah he ain’t here right now but I’ll tell him some kracker with koolaid hair came looking for him.” I went to slam the door but the man put his foot in halting it.

“Please, can’t you tell me where he is? I'm so worried about him. He has a serious drug problem. “

I paused, the problem with this was in the ghetto people come by all the time claiming to be family. You can never be sure. But he knows about the drugs?

I opened the door again, giving him a dead serious look.

“How I’m supposed to know you his brother?”

“Can’t you tell?” He pleaded and pulled out a driver’s license to confirm his last name was Way.

I looked up to his face, the eyes were the same as Mikey’s. The deep hazel. But only white bitches go on that shit and that’s why they end up fucked over all the time.

“Aight lemme tell you something.” I stepped out of the door and brought the gun out into view, pressing it up against his neck.

“You try any funny business we gon have a problem. If I think for a minute somethings suspicious bout you you aint going to live to see tomorrow. I’m not a bitch you wanna fuck with.”

“A-Alright. Fuck. Just put down the gun.” He furrowed his eyebrows.

I scoffed and stuffed the gun back in my back pocket, opening the door wider so he could come in.

He walked in and I slammed the door shut, walking over to the bathroom.

“Follow me.” I mumbled.

I guided him over to the bathroom and pointed to the ground where Mikey was lying still unconscious.

He gasped when he saw him and rushed into the bathroom, mimicking the same procedures I had earlier.

“He’s fine. Don't trip. I found him like this not long before you came.”

“And you just left him here?” He screamed.

“Yes motherfucker I did. I’m tired of wiping Mikey’s fucking ass. He’s gon have to learn the hard way! Don’t be yelling at me! Where the fuck were you these past weeks?” I screamed back.

His eyes filled with hurt and he turned back to Mikey, covering his exposed body with a towel.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed.

He thought for a minute before looking back up to me.

“How the fuck does he know you anyway? Why did he even come to Atlanta? Are you his girlfriend?” His jaw dropped and questions just poured out of his mouth.

“Ugh, nigga shut the fuck up.” I pressed my palm to my forehead in a stressed manner.

“I aint his fucking girlfriend and I don’t know why he came here. He just showed up one day looking for work so I took him under my wing.”

“Under your wing? What do you do?”

“None of your god damn business.” I glared at him and he glared back, giving me a ‘really?’ look.

“Fine. I’m a thug aiight. I deal drugs. I’ve got a crew, which yo brothers in.”

“Oh my godddd,” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“You’re fucking kidding me right?” He spoke again.

“I aint.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

“I'm taking him home, I’m sorry but Mikey doesn’t belong here you must understand that. He’ll get more help back at home.”

“Mikey’s not going fucking anywhere.” I pulled my gun back out, cocked it, and pointed it at him.

Notes

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