Write In The Middle of It

Brett walked the seven blocks in no time. He stopped at the older white house on the corner with the broken awning and pushed the heavy door open. As he was climbing the steps, you could hear a baby crying from behind a wooden door, a couple arguing, glass breaking, but by the time he got to the top of the steps that led to his room, they were a muffled choir of noises below him. He sighed, unlocked the door then let it slam behind him as he walked in. He pulled a cord, which turned on a light over the sink which enabled him to see the small dingy room.

In the room was a bed, a nightstand, a round table with a chair, and the sink. Sitting on the table was a rotary phone and a TV that did not work. There was a lump in the bed. Brett sighed and rolled his eyes as he shook the lump. A disheveled head rose up from it. She groaned slightly and pulled the thin cover up to her neck to hide her obviously naked body.

"What chu waking me up for?" the female said wiping her chin

"Why aren't you at work?" he spat back.

"I’m sick,” she said pulling the cover around her neck.

"You’re always sick." Brett growled as he sat on the opposite side of the bed to undo his shoes. Sadiah let the covers fall, slithered her naked body behind Brett and began kissing him on his neck. Brett didn't exchange Sadiah's affection but continued to take off his shoes. Sadiah would have been a pretty girl if she weren’t so worn out looking. She had a light cinnamon complexion with wide sleepy eyes and full pouty lips. All her mussed hair needed was some oil sheen and a comb, and it would have framed her round head perfectly. Her wiry body housed breasts that were too round and perfect to be real.

Sadiah pressed them up against Brett's back as she began to lick and suck his neck.

"Will you stop?" Brett snapped as he shrugged her off of him.

Sadiah sighed as she put her chin on his shoulder, "What, you didn't miss me?"

"How can I miss you, you are always here!" Brett barked.

Sadiah scooted off of the bed initially in anger but then knelt down in front of him. Brett winced in disgust as his gaze traced over her skinny body.

"Here, this will make you feel better," she said as she lowered herself to her knees rubbing his hand. Brett sighed slightly as she put his index finger into her mouth and sucked on it seductively. It was at that point she noticed the ink on his hand. "What the fuck is this?!?" Sadiah growled as she threw Brett's hand back into his lap. Brett smiled a sinister smile.

"Oh that's Mekayla!" he said matter of fact.

Sadiah jumped up and slapped him in the chest. "I'm home from work sick and you are out fuckin around."

In one swoop Brett got up, grabbed Sadiah by her throat and threw her into the wall. "Like hell you're sick!!!" He shouted. “Your ass is fiendin!"

Sadiah moaned slightly but Brett didn't notice she was semi-conscious because he was still shouting at her lifeless body.

"How many times do I have to tell you if you would just take your ass to work and make some money so we can get out of this shithole, I wouldn't have to act like this!!!"

Brett was pacing around the small room like a caged animal.

"Look what you made me do! Look at you now! Now your trick ass ain't going to be able to work for another couple days." He stopped suddenly and stood over her. At that point Brett watched Sadiah's eyes flutter shut as blood started trickling out of the corner of her mouth.

"Shit,” he said under his breath as he scooped her up and uncaringly plopped her onto the bed. He looked at her non-existent ass and shook his head.

I shoulda went straight to the strip club.

The ironic thing was Brett never actually stepped foot in the club that night. He was going to but for some unknown reason he stopped at the 7-eleven to buy condoms just in case he met a willing ho.

Sadiah was standing by the coffee machine getting a cappuccino. Maybe it was the fluorescent lights but she was the purest, prettiest little thing Brett had laid his eyes on. Even with no makeup, she glowed. Unlike the heavily made up whores he usually brought home.

He walked over to her and spit his best game, but she didn’t seem at all interested, paid for her coffee and left. Brett ran out of the store after her. After hours of small talk and giggles, he found her even sweeter, and wound up bringing her home. Brett thought she was so different, he never did buy the condoms.

What he didn't find out until after he wore the pussy out, that Sadiah actually was a dancer at the club he forgot to go to, and the reason she was so small is because she was a sixteen year old run away from Nebraska with a nasty heroin habit. He often wondered if Sadiah was her real name. Because Sadiah didn't have a place to stay and Brett did like the sex, he let her stay there. He figured in a few weeks she could make enough money to get a bigger place and then he would go back to hustlin so the girl could at least go to school.

But Sadiah shot up the money before she made it and was in mad debt to every dealer on the block. The first time he put her out she wound up knocking on his door at four-o clock in the morning, so swollen and bloody he could barely recognize her. He cleaned her up and carried her over his shoulder the twenty blocks to the rehab. She stuck to it for twenty-two out of the twenty-eight days and then showed up under the broken awning as if nothing happened

Brett was dependent on drugs in another way. He was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic and was on a number of pills to keep him sane. He collected a small disability check and was able to keep that box of a room and even held a little job until Sadiah started selling his medication. If he doesn't take his meds correctly, Brett can become vehemently violent. And because Sadiah seemed to be the cause of his problems, she became the recipient of his rage. He never realized he was doing it because he wasn't himself, but once his medication was regulated he looked at the bruises he inflicted on her, Brett became overwhelmed with guilt.

Hence, Sadiah was still there.

Brett sat in the chair and watched Sadiah sleep to make sure she was still breathing. He took a broken pencil that lying next to an expired TV Guide and scribbled Mekayla's number onto a page, ripped it out and put it in his shoe.

I have got to get that woman. She is the woman I thought Sadiah was.

He got up and walked over to the sink and swallowed a variety of medications then stuck his head under the faucet to wash those pills down. As long as he stayed regular, he could get Mekayla. Shit he was good looking, intelligent, and he could put the thing down. He never had a problem pulling women. He just has a problem keeping them. It seemed that once women found out he didn't work, and had a disability they stopped messing with him. That's why with Mekayla he had to do it differently.

Meet her after work hours and on weekends. He would never go home with her and he damn sure ain’t going to take her back to this room. If he could hide the money from Sadiah he'll send Mekayla flowers once a month and do cheap romantic things like, picnics and museums and walks in the park. So what if she had a man. He ain't here. And once he starts planting those insecure seeds in her mind, then he'd put the thing down on her.

Then she'd be his. And he would just leave Sadiah.

What else could he do?

He tried to do right by the girl but she's a junkie and she's wearing him down. Brett continued to watch her sleep, sometimes wishing the breathing would just stop.