Obsession (7 page)

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Authors: Treasure Hernandez

BOOK: Obsession
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“Come on!” Hawk yelled out the window, as he watched Lucky run and hop in the backseat. Hawk put the pedal to the metal as he heard the back window shatter.
Quick watched the car swerve out into the street as he emptied his clip on the vehicle. He was hoping one of his bullets didn't strike Lucky, but in this game there were no guarantees.
“Come on, we gotta go!” Major Pain barked, and he and Quick ran through the mansion toward the front door.
By the time they reached the front of the mansion, they saw two of their vans flying down the street. Just as they reached the last van, two cop cars came to a screeching stop, the light on the top of their cars flashing brightly.
“Get in the van,” Major Pain said as he trained his AK at the cop car and held onto the trigger as he swept the gun back and forth.
Quick hopped in the driver's seat of the van as he watched the bullets from Major Pain's AK tear up the two squad cars. Once Major Pain ran out of bullets, he hopped in the passenger seat of the van.
Quick gunned the engine, recklessy pulling out into the street. He nervously looked through the rearview mirror. “Fuck! We got company,” he announced as he saw flashing lights in his rearview.
Major Pain looked over at Quick. “You know what we gotta do,” he said, reloading his AK.
Quick nodded his head, signaling he understood.
Major Pain reached in the backseat and grabbed Quick's AK. He stuck a fresh clip in the gun and sat it on Quick's lap.
“Pull over right here,” Major Pain said, pointing. “We gotta split up and make a run for it on foot before they call in the helicopter.”
Quick stopped the van in the middle of the block as he took a deep breath.
“Meet you back the spot,” Major Pain said.
The two shook hands then hopped out the van. Quick hopped out first and opened fire on the cop car as he began to backpedal.
Major Pain hopped out, and he too opened fire on the cop car until he saw no more movement inside the cop car. He looked over at Quick and nodded his head, and the two men took off running in different directions.
Quick ran down the street with a ski mask covering his face, and an AK-47 assault riffle in his hand. He heard pedestrians screaming and moving out of his path. Quick's lungs and heart threatened to burst, but he pressed on, knowing that if he slowed down or got caught the end result wouldn't be pretty. He turned down a well-lit street, where he dropped his AK on the ground, kicked it under a parked car, and kept walking like nothing had ever happened. Then he rolled his ski mask up so that it looked like a skully on his head.
Quick heard the sirens and quickly dipped into a bar. He walked straight up to the counter and ordered a drink. He looked over both shoulders as he pulled out his cell phone and texted Ivy, telling her to come and pick him up.
She replied, “I'm on my way.”
Quick sat at the bar and sipped on his drink as he waited for Ivy to arrive.
 
 
Major Pain ran down a dark street. The first thing he did was get rid of the AK and the ski mask. He stuck his hand down in his pocket and gripped the .380 that rested there as he walked down the street like he didn't have a care in the world. He made it to the next block and saw flashing lights all over the place, and a crowd standing around. He walked over to the crowd. Squeezing through the crowd, he saw Wolf laid out in the middle of the streets, his body filled with bullet holes. Three other men also lay dead in the street next to him.
“Fuck!” Major Pain cursed under his breath. He saw Wolf's AK lying right next to him. He knew that if anyone from the crew was stopped by the police, it would be shots fired on sight.
Major Pain saw two police officers laid out dead on the concrete, and another officer with a gunshot wound to his leg being helped into the back of an ambulance. He shook his head as he walked off and flagged down a cab.
Major Pain sat in the back of the cab and exhaled loudly. “I hope Quick got away,” he thought out loud as he closed his eyes and relaxed for the rest of the ride.
 
 
Quick hopped in the passenger side of Ivy's Charger as she pulled off.
“Damn! It's cops all over the place,” she said, cruising past a crime scene.
Quick looked out the tinted window in time to see a police officer place a white sheet over Wolf's body.
“Damn! Wolf!” Quick mumbled, and he sat back in silence for the rest of the ride.
When the two got home, Quick removed his clothes and took a quick shower. After he hopped out of the shower, he entered the bedroom and orally pleased Ivy. Once he was done, she quickly drifted off to sleep, while Quick stayed up for most of the night just staring up at the ceiling.
“Do What You Gotta Do”
Tiffany stepped off the bus and couldn't wait to get home and out of the cold. She had a long day at work and just wanted to go home and relax. Surprisingly, for the past week Blake had been acting normal, and not like a jackass. Tiffany was just hoping that this pattern continued. She reached the lobby and repeatedly pressed the call button for the elevator. She stepped inside and pressed her floor, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to warm them up.
Tiffany stepped off the elevator and saw a woman exiting her apartment. When she looked closely, she realized it was the same girl from the last time.
“Hold that elevator,” the mystery woman said, her heels click-clacking loudly on the floor as she jogged toward the elevator.
Tiffany stood in the doorway of the elevator so it wouldn't close. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
The mystery woman looked her up and down and replied, “Nah. I don't have nothing to say to you. Besides, I don't know you.”
“Well, you gon' tell me something,” Tiffany said, her voice rising. “This is the second time I caught you coming out of my house.”
“Your house?” the mystery woman echoed, a smirk on her face.
Just from that smirk Tiffany knew that Blake had been telling the woman all kinds of lies. “Were you in my house having sex with my boyfriend?” Tiffany asked. She pulled out three twenty-dollar bills from her pocket and held them out toward the woman.
The woman took the money and stuck it down in her bra. “Who? Blake?” she said, loudly popping her gum.
“Yes, Blake.”
“Yeah, he's one of my best customers,” the woman told her. “And a good tipper.”
“So that's what he does with my hard-earned money,” Tiffany said to herself as she stepped back and let the elevator door close. She couldn't believe what she had just heard, even though she had already expected it.
Tiffany slowly made her way down the hallway and entered her apartment. She stepped inside the house and looked at Blake with a disgusted look on her face.
“Hey, baby,” Blake said sitting back on the couch, a gun resting in front of him on the coffee table.
Tiffany didn't even respond to Blake. She walked past him like he was invisible and went in the bedroom and slammed the door.
Seconds later, Blake came busting into the room. “What the fuck is your problem?” he barked, grabbing Tiffany under her chin and forcing her to look at him.
“Fuck you!” Tiffany capped back, smacking Blake's hand off her face.
She was instantly smacked down to the floor. Then a kick to her ribs came next, followed by Blake snatching her back up to her feet by her hair. “Bitch, what the fuck is your problem?”
“Why don't you go ask that prostitute bitch that you been giving all of my money to!” Tiffany huffed as she grabbed a duffel bag from out of the closet and began filling it with her clothes.
“Fuck you think you going?” Blake asked, fire dancing in his eyes.
“Fuck you! I'm sick of you and all of your shit!”
“Put that bag down before I get angry,” Blake warned, his nostrils flared, and his hands turned to fists.
“Hmm!” Tiffany sighed loudly, ignoring Blake's last comment.
“I'm not playing with you!”
Out of all nights, tonight was one of those nights that Blake didn't want to fight with Tiffany. At the moment he had bigger and more important things on his mind. He had just purchased a new gun and planned on going out the following day to look for Quick. He was going to put him in his place for butting in his business that day at the restaurant.
“Do what you gotta do,” Tiffany spat, her tone showing no respect, as she continued to pack her things.
Blake slowly walked up to her, and she dropped her bag and took a defensive stance. No longer was she going to stand around and just let him pound on her. Those days were over.
When Blake got a little too close to Tiffany, she popped her arm out and punched him in the eye. “You better back up!” she said, ready for battle.
Blake held his eye and smiled. This was the first time Tiffany had ever hit him. Usually he was the one doing the hitting.
He quickly rushed Tiffany, scooped her legs up, and slammed her down to the floor like she was a rag doll. “Have you lost your muthafuckin' mind!” he growled, raining punches on her exposed face.
Tiffany's face was a bloody mess, but that didn't stop Blake from beating her ass like she was a man. He continued to hit her with forceful blow after forceful blow.
Once his arms got tired, he stood to his feet and started stomping her.
Tiffany's face was still cold from just coming inside the house, which only made Blake's boots feel like stone hitting her all across her body. The only thing Tiffany could do was ball up and wildly kick her legs, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Say you sorry!” Blake barked, kicking her one more time.
“I'm sorry.”
Blake kicked her in the face. “You sorry what?”
“I'm sorry, daddy.” Tiffany coughed up blood.
Tiffany had never been in this much pain in her life. This time Blake really beat the shit out of her. Her mind quickly raced to the knife that she'd hidden in her drawer. Her eyes then locked on the gun resting on the coffee table.
“Now get over here and suck this dick!” Blake huffed. He pulled out his dick and put it in Tiffany's bloody face. “I keep telling you, you belong to me, bitch!”
“I can't,” Tiffany told him. “Both of my lips are swollen.” She spat blood onto the floor.
Blake looked down and examined her puffy lips. “Get over here!” he said. He began to jerk his dick, while Tiffany stayed on her knees.
Blake grunted as he came and exploded all over Tiffany's face. “You belong to me, and you ain't going no muthafuckin' where!”
Blake sat back on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Now get out of my sight,” he said, fanning his hand.
Tiffany got up off her knees and went to the bathroom. She looked in the mirror and saw her face covered with blood and semen. She grabbed her rag, wet it, and cleaned her face. She took a deep breath before turning on the shower and heading to the bedroom.
She opened her drawer and removed the shiny knife and held it down at her side as she slowly walked back to the living room. She stood directly behind Blake with the knife in her hand as she watched him laugh at an episode of
Martin
, like nothing had just happened. Just the sight of Blake made her angry and want to kill.
Just as she was about to stab him, she started thinking,
What if I kill him? Then I'ma get put in jail for the rest of my life. What if he don't die then disarms me and kills me?
Then she remembered what her face just looked like in the mirror. “Fuck you!” Tiffany screamed as she raised the knife and brought it down with all of her might, stabbing Blake in his chest.
Tiffany stabbed Blake repeatedly, until his body stopped moving. “Muthafucka!” she growled as she dropped the knife on the floor. She ran to the back room and grabbed her pocketbook. Then she ran to the front door full speed before she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.
She quickly ran back and picked up the knife from off the floor and tossed it inside her pocketbook. Tiffany made it to the hallway, running full speed, then disappeared down the staircase.
Just as Tiffany disappeared in the staircase, two cops stepped off the elevator. One of the neighbors had called the cops and reported a domestic disturbance.
Tiffany made it outside and ran straight for the subway. She was hoping that her mother was home, because she didn't have a key to her mother's house.
She stepped on the train and could feel the other passengers staring at her. She just stared down at the floor until she arrived at her stop.
It was so cold outside, especially since she'd left her coat back at the house, Tiffany jogged from the train station to her mother's house, where she knocked on the door and patiently awaited an answer.
Brenda snatched open the door and was about to start talking shit, until she saw her daughter's swollen face. “Oh my God! Get in here,” she said, rushing Tiffany inside the apartment.

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