Lose Control

Another short story...

Lose Control

This is the type of stuff my daddy warned me about.

The shackles around my ankles echo with each step I take, and I hear him saying, “People are going to use you to get what they want, Shai.  They can only ruin you if you let them.”

Well I let them, and now his words were of no use to me over here in the state of California’s federal penitentiary. I was stuck here, out of a home and with not a shoulder to lean on. I yearned to be home, so I dreaded the forthcoming steps.

“When you get out there, stay focused,” he tried to get through my thick skull.

But I am my mother’s child, what could I do now?

Before everything fell apart, I was enjoying what life had to offer. I had a nice condominium in Hollywood Hills; I attended Pepperdine University in Malibu; I had plenty of friends and a nice piece of arm candy, but one person messed all of that up for me, and so you see, the bitch had to die. The only thing I can say that I actually regret was getting caught.

If I was Bonnie, I thought my so-called “boyfriend” would be my Clyde, but that punk had nerve to sing to Los Angeles Police Department that I got rid of her. Yeah she was his sister and all, but the bitch had it coming to her, I just got to her first.

My veins started pulsating at the thought of my fingers wrapped around her neck. I felt my adrenaline building up again, so I stopped. The correction officer, or should I say escort, looked at me with prying eyes, so I rolled my own pair.

“C’mon let’s go,” he pushed me.

I had to refrain from elbowing him, remembering how being in isolation drove me crazy.

I began walking faster, fidgeting my fingers only because I had nothing else to do with them. 

I could see the window, and I could see her sitting there, with her face in her hands. Her back rose and fell after each sob and for some strange reason it did not bother me.

I waited for my escort to un-cuff my hands and legs before stretching to take a seat. I looked at her long and hard, but I was not vexed, I was actually comfortable seeing her like this. We made eye contact and she picked up the phone, but I did not pick up mine.

Her lips began moving and even though I could not hear her, I knew exactly what she was telling me. I gave her look as if to say, “is that all”, and she sighed giving up hope that I was the little girl she raised me to be long ago. Truth is, that little girl died with that bitch.

She, my mother that is, raised her hand to her face, kissing it before palming the glass. I started getting up and cut my eyes at her as the officer cuffed me again. The last thing I saw her say was “I love you, Baby.”

I do not remember the walk to my room, but I do remember lying in bed wide-eyed. It had sunk in, and I did not understand. It was the same concept as the death of the woman who took my life, she stopped breathing and so did her heartbeat, but I did not understand how the soul just stopped functioning.

I refused to believe what my mother told me had come to pass. I was offered to attend the funeral, but I turned it down, because it just was not true. If the soul left the body, it could just find new one, right?

I got a letter from my ex- saying that he had a little girl. It was not my little girl so why should I care. I wanted a little girl, or boy, all I know is that I wanted his child and that bitch knew that. I wanted our child to look into my eyes and wonder if I would guide it down the right path, and I wanted to kiss those fears away because I believe that the father and I had our shit together, unlike my parents. He never knew, and I will never tell him, that I was pregnant when his sister killed my spirit, that is something that I will take with me to the grave.

The grave, supposedly that is where he is resting in peace, my father, but that is far from the truth, because he still speaks to me.

I wanted everything my parents never had, and I had to get them at all costs. My mother had me when she was just sixteen, so she dropped out of highschool, six credits short of graduation, I felt she owed herself and her future that much to put herself through the summer she could have used to attain her diploma. My dad was a drug lord, and got locked up when I was five. Our phone conversations were the epitome of our relationship, but I took that away from him.

“Shai, life is precious, don’t take it for granted,” he cautioned me. “You can not play GOD, so give life the best shot you have because once your time is done here on Earth, then you’re gone forever.”

“Then why are you still here?” I asked.

“Because I told you before, you have to let things of the past go, before you can move on,” he answered.

I wept that night, and then I let him go. I wondered what he was always trying to warn me about, but that chapter was through; I messed up, big time, and I knew it. My daddy died of a broken heart.

I had given up trying to place blame on everyone else but myself, everything wrong in my life happened because of me, I had let someone or something consume me, and now, I was paying for it dearly.  I have decided that for now on, I was in control of me, and my first plan of action was to learn control.

Beauty Has a Face

I'm posting my entry to the Hear Me Project just to keep my Xanga updated...

Beauty Has a Face

They had nothing to say to each other, or so she thought.

Honestly, what could he say? He made a decision, she glared at him. And I’m not about to give him the time of day because all of a sudden he’s “a changed man.”

“Hmph,” she grunted aloud.

He looked at her apologetically, really wishing that she had looked past the stigmas placed against him. He desperately wanted to start what should have been long ago, a relationship with his daughter.

Yeah right, she sized him up.

He recognized her stubbornness as his own. He smirked.

Ain’t shit to be smiling about, she began walking away. Kiss my ass if you think you’re getting another chance from me.

“Beauty,” he called her. “Do not walk away from me.”

She stopped in utter disbelief . It was not the authority in his tone that made her stop, but it was the audaciousness of his request. And no, Beauty wasn't her name, although she responded nonetheless. She has been called Beauty since before she could remember.

“I know you’re not talking to me,” she rolled her neck.

“How can you judge me and you don’t even know me,” he inquired.

“That’s not my problem,” she shifted her weight to her left hip. “Go on about your business, as your were.”

“Beauty, don’t do this to me,” he begged.

“Get it right, you did it to me,” she showed no mercy as she stared him down, making him shift uncomfortably.

This was something she learned to master during the cold years of her childhood. Once she did this all the voices stopped, something she truly appreciated.

He stared at her, acknowledging her eyes and complexion as his own, but he did not see her, he saw his inner child begging for answers that he was afraid to admit and reveal to her. There was no way that he could tell her the truth without getting lashed at, but he knew he could not continue life as it was.

“Beauty,” he looked from her to the tombstone they were standing at. “I loved her with all my heart,” he sobbed. “Still do,” he kneeled shaking his head. “She wanted nothing more to do with me after what happened,” he explained. “I guess its true when they say ‘misery loves company’.”

“You’re lying,” Beauty’s voice quivered.

She backed away from him, “She would never lie to me; she would never hide something like that from me.”

“But she did Beauty, she did,” he tried to convince her. “I was nothing but faithful to her and then she did this to me. I never wanted to leave her; she practically forced me to leave.”

“And what about me?” she asked. “If she wanted to get rid of you, why didn’t she get rid of me too?”

“It was never about you,” he stated coldly. “It was always about her. Don't you think that this could've been prevented? Yeah, she's gone now, but she still has you, just like she wanted.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she walked away again.

“I can’t make it go away,” he pleaded, “but I can be here to support you like I should’ve been,” he told her.

She’s dead and he’s still trying to incriminate her, she ran to her car.

Beauty tried to see through fog as he approached her.

“Leave me alone,” she screamed.

The setting had overwhelmed her until she could no longer stand it. Her last days were steadily creeping on her just as it had done her mother.

She started the car, and even though she saw him approaching her vehicle, she still jumped when he knocked on her window.

“Let me help,” he offered once again. “Nobody wants to die alone.”

He allowed his eyes to hover over her mother’s tombstone.

Two months later, he finally revealed his side of the story, which was the complete opposite of what she heard, and with each word he spoke, he hung his head in shame.

Beauty's mother was a piece of work. She was attractive, spoiled and expected nothing less than what she already had. She had everything a girl could ever want, but still she wanted more.

She fell in love with the lifestyle of Beauty's father, not fully understanding that he needed a way out. Against her parents’ wishes she pursued him and in return, they disowned her. Of course she was unphased by the act because he gave her what she needed and opened her up to much more.

As Beauty's father was breaking free, her mother became a prisoner. Tried hard as he could, Beauty's father could not break her away, but he chose to stay anyway.

Before giving birth to Beauty, she connected with someone just as good as Beauty's father, and contracted HIV, the Human Immunodeficiency Virus, and by the time Beauty turned three, her mother had full-blown AIDS, the Acquired Deficiency Syndrome. Against her father's wishes, she refused treatment, and removed him from their lives.

Beauty's father never had the chance to fight for his family, stripped of his manhood and dignity, he kept to himself, dreaming of what could have been.

Out of selfishness and self-pity, Beauthy's mother never took the time to find out if Beauty had also contracted the disease. Later on, at the age of seven, they would find out that she had HIV. In a car accident and in need of a blood transfusion, Beauty would learn, that she too had full-blown AIDS.

Around the clock treatment, courtesy of the governments healthcare program and child welfare allowed Beauty too see past the age of 18, an age where far too many victims never get to see.

Beauty grew up believing that her father led a promiscuous lifestyle, and that her mother contracted the disease from him, but she learned that he had not contracted the virus at all.

He took Beauty to her monthly treatments for nine months, and then, there was nothing more to be said.

His only daughter had fallen victim to lies, deceit, and ignorance at the hand of the woman he loved most.

Laying side-by-side may mother and daughter Rest In Peace.

The Hear Me Project...

The Hear Me Project...

This story was submitted to the Hear Me Project after days of editing. I really put my all into this piece. It's about a young lady struggling, and living with whats commonly known as AIDS and how lies and deceit were meant to keep her alone.I want you all to go ahead and submit your reviews for the story. Constructive criticism is welcomed.

Beauty has a Face

Don't worry this isn't spam...

Its the one and only Mizz Mari

Two Fingaz
and I'm out

Long Time No See.

No Man Cum Test Dade County!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!305!!!!!!!!!!!!

NBA WORLD CHAMPIONS!!!!!

Give It Up 4 Our Dade County Soilders