I Use To Love You: A Hood Chick's Revenge (4 page)

The moment I crossed the Wisconsin State line, my heart started beating faster. I couldn’t keep my legs from moving and I had this anxious feeling in my stomach. I decided to pull over at a rest stop called the Oasis in Kenosha County and get my mind right. There were places to eat, souvenir shops and bathrooms inside a white building with blue stained windows. It was for travelers who needed to stretch their legs.

Once I was parked at the far end of the parking lot, I sparked up some of the Indigo Gold in the nickel-plated and wooden pipe I’d bought in Denver. All a bitch like me needed was to get her mind right. I couldn’t go after Ivan and Kim K.’s backstabbing asses in the condition I was in. They had been all of the family I’d ever had and they knew I was coming at their heads, so I couldn’t afford to be all antsy and shit, unless I wasn’t planning to live to see my twenty-sixth birthday.

All three of us were treacherous enough to do whatever it took to win this deadly ass game. It was going to come down to whoever made the smarter and more thought out moves. I was a street bitch whose daddy left as soon as he nutted me out. At the age of six I watched my mother’s boyfriend literally beat her to death. In the foster care system I had to fight off grown men trying to molest and rape me at night.

When I ended up doing time in juvenile detention for trying to slice the head off of one of those child molesting punks, I had to fight ugly and nappy headed young bitches on a daily basis just because they were jealous that I was a little dime piece. Fighting to survive was nothing new to me. I don’t even think I would know how to act without some type of drama going on in my life. But I wasn’t ready to die.

Especially by the hands of Ivan’s punk ass and that dirty white tramp, Kim K. I drove out of the Oasis parking lot once the Indigo Gold had calmed my mind and mellowed the rest of my body out. I got back onto highway ninety-four west with only forty-five minutes to go before I was back in the Mil. I was only forty-five minutes away from being in the same city as the nigga and bitch who tried to kill me in the city of sin. My pussy got wet just thinking about putting a bullet in the head of my ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend.

I turned from Center Street onto Forty-Eighth, with my left hand on the steering wheel and my right gripping my strap. I was back in the Uptown section of the Mil; I was back home. I knew better than to think that Ivan was going to make it that easy for me. But a bitch wasn’t taking any chances. I slowly cruised by our crib checking for any lights on or anybody lurking.

I made a left turn onto Hadley Street when I got to the end of the block. And then made another left into the alley that ran behind our crib. Ivan and Kim K. weren’t the only ones I had my eyes open for as I slowly cruised by our red, white and tan garage. I’d just done plenty of dirt down in Vegas. I wasn’t going to assume the po-pos didn’t trace me back to the crib me and Ivan had lived in since we met.

The Indigo Gold had my mind flipping through all types of scenarios. However, there was nothing in that alley but a stray dog, green trash and recycling bins, and some trash blowing in the light wind. When I made it to the end of the alley I spotted my nigga Don the Barber and a couple of other cats hanging out in front of my girl, Meka’s, beauty salon/barber shop, 089.

They were busy shooting game at a couple of boppers with curves that looked ready to bust out of their skin tight jeans. The season had just flipped to spring and niggas and bitches in the hood were already playing summertime games. Normally I would’ve honked and chucked the deuces as I made another left onto Center Street before I turned back onto Forty-eighth. But these weren’t normal times. I couldn’t trust anybody. Meka, the owner, did my hair and Don the Barber cut Ivan’s. The Indigo Gold had only enhanced my paranoia and even had me questioning their loyalty.

I was still clutching my strap when I parked in front of the red, tan and white brick two-story crib. The same one I’d lived in with a nigga I’d gave my all to. A couple of tears dropped down my cheeks as I sat there with all types of memories flashing through my head. Memories of us fucking and counting money under the same roof. Memories of us sleeping in the same bed and plotting on our next lick all under the same god damn roof!
How could this nigga throw all of that away for that dirty white bitch?

I wiped the tears away from my face before I checked to make sure a bullet was in the chamber and ready to blast off. The only answer to that question was that I’d been sleeping with the muthafuckin enemy. I learned a long time before I met Ivan’s sheisty ass that there was only one thing you do to your enemies: eliminate them. I tucked my strap into the cute little Coach purse I bought at the outlet store in Denver.

I placed a blue Denver Bronco fitted cap on my head and pulled the brim as low as I could. I rocked it with an orange t-shirt that had “Denver The Mile High City” in blue lettering and a big marijuana leaf under it. I also copped some True Religion jeans and some orange and blue Air Force Ones to set the fit off. A bitch was supposed to be ducking as much attention as possible, but I just couldn’t see not looking good while doing it.

I looked in both directions before I stepped out of the Escalade. As usual our block was one of the quieter ones in Uptown. Niggas weren’t posted op with dope sacks or shooting dice or hanging out at all. It was just a block full of small and medium sized cribs that actually had freshly cut green grass. You would find niggas playing those types of ghetto games and more once you crossed to the other side of Center Street. In Uptown you never knew what you were going to get until you got there.

It was damn near seven at night and sunlight was still clinging to the sky as I quickly walked around to the back entrance. Daylight savings was a muthafucka when you didn’t want any nosey neighbors in your business. The air was cool enough to give me goosebumps as I found a spare key hidden inside the basement window well. We started keeping one there after Ivan came home drunk a few times and locked his keys in the car.

I didn’t take my strap out of my purse until I’d carefully stepped inside of the house and closed the door behind me. Like I said, I doubted anybody was there but a bitch wasn’t taking any chances.

I clenched my teeth with every step I took up the staircase that led to the kitchen. It’s like the more careful I tried to be the more the muthafuckas creaked. There was enough sunlight coming through the kitchen window over the sink for me to spot the note posted on the stainless steel refrigerator. The same stainless steel refrigerator that matched the stainless steel stove and dishwasher I picked out to bring the kitchen to life. The whole damn place looked like a muthafuckin dope spot before I moved in and added my touch.

Ivan didn’t give a fuck because he was a street nigga. And that’s where he spent most of his time. He bought the crib and put the deed in his momma’s name just so he could have somewhere to lay his head. I was the bitch that redecorated and had us living plush. I marched over to the refrigerator and ripped the note from underneath the magnet. My heart almost busted through my chest when I saw it was from Ivan.

Do you remember when I asked you if you were a dumb bitch or a scared bitch? Well you would have to be the dumbest bitch in the world if you’re standing in the kitchen reading this. Didn’t you think I knew that would be the first place you went? Oh, and yo girl’s pussy is not fatter or juicier than yours. There probably ain’t another bitch alive that can fuck with yo shit. You’re going to die holding the title, Phat Kat.

By the time I finished ripping the note up and throwing it on the shiny wooden floor, a muthafucka started strangling me from behind with some type of wire. I immediately went into panic mode as I dropped my strap and clawed at the wire around my throat and whoever was holding the ends of it.

My fitted cap flew off my head as I kicked at the air and jerked every which way, desperate to find some type of angle that would free me from the wire.

“You like it rough? Huh bitch,” a female’s voice growled in my ear.

The wire felt as if it would slice through my neck as she swung me from side to side. My lungs were on fire and my adam’s apple seemed ready to explode as I gasped for air. The mahogany table and chairs got kicked over as I did all I could to fight off death. My head was starting to feel as if it would bust open if I didn’t get oxygen soon. And my vision was starting to get blurry.

I kicked some of the cabinets open as the bitch who was trying to strangle the hell out of me kept yanking me backwards. Images of me fighting off those child molesters when I was in foster care flashed before my eyes. More images of me beating different bitches’ asses when I was in juvenile detention came rushing back. Then I saw myself escaping death down in Vegas. I was thinking that I had survived all of that crazy shit, I wasn’t going to let this bitch kill me in my own damn house.

I dropped to the floor ass first and in one motion, I reached back and grabbed the bitch by her hoodie and pulled her ass down to the wooden floor with me. The punk bitch came right back at me. But I caught her in the forehead with a stainless steel pot that had fallen out of one of the cabinets.

She stumbled backwards and was dazed long enough for me to see she was one of those tall amazon bitches. Like the ones that ball in the WNBA or spike all the damn time on the volleyball court. The bitch was blacker than onyx, with skin smoother than the granite countertops in the kitchen. I’m sitting on the floor, coughing and gasping for air at the same time, while wondering if Ivan imported the bitch from Sudan or Nigeria.

The bitch had a fade like Lil Boosie with two parts on the side and wild eyes like Trindad James. She had on a dark grey cat suit, a grey Carhart hoodie, and flats.
Oh hell now. Ain’t no way I’m losing my life to this bitch.
She roared like some African lioness and then rushed me. I swung my leg around and kicked her behind the knee. She buckled for a moment and then snatched me off the floor by my Mohawk.

“Let my shit go, bitch.” My lungs were still on fire and my throat hurt like a muthafucka but I still had enough energy to grab her wrist and twist it until she let go. I then bit down on two of her fingers. I locked on like a pit as she tried to yank them out of my mouth. I shielded my head from the blows she was raining down with her free hand.

I was really just trying to buy a little time. I needed to catch my breath and shake off the stars I was still seeing after damn near getting choked to death. When I finally let her fingers go, I made sure I tore off as much skin as possible. That tall ass bitch screamed like she was four foot two. I punched her in the nose and a little blood squirted out of it. I followed that up with jabs to her chin and some hooks that connected to her jawline.

“Yeah, bitch. Ain’t nuthin sweet when you’re fuckin’ with a gangster bitch.”

Just when it looked as if I had her dazed, that big ole bitch caught my next punch and slapped me so hard I damn near spun around in place. Then she front kicked me in the stomach with her size twenty. I fell to the floor clutching my gut.

“You’re such a pretty bitch I don’t know whether to taste that pussy before or after you’re dead.” She licked her lips as if she was imagining how my shit tasted. She pulled the grey hoodie over her head and kicked the flats off her feet.

I tried to scoot away with eyes toward my strap that had slid across the kitchen floor. It was against the little island in the middle of the kitchen where I kept all of the knives. The ones I used to cut and prep food for the triflin’ ass nigga. I tried to push past the pain in my throat and stomach so I could get to my strap or one of the knives. At least that was the plan.

“It only turns me on more when you try to run.” That big ass bitch flopped down on my chest in her dark grey cat suit. She used her knees to pin my arms to the floor. And then she grabbed my neck with both hands.

“I want you to put up as much of a struggle as you can. That shit really turns me on.” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she began choking me with her bare hands.

I tried to squirm at first but it was no use. She weighed too much and I was already in too much pain. All I could do was close my eyes and go with it because I didn’t have the energy for anything else. The amazon bitch was strong and her hands were almost as powerful as the wire she tried to choke me with. She was squeezing so hard my brain felt like it would squirt out of my ears. Then an idea came to me. It was the only shot I had. I either played dead or ended up dead. So I made my whole body go limp and cocked my head to the side as much as I could in her big ole bear claws.

It took a few moments but she let go of my neck and grabbed me by the chin. She shook my head from side to side a few times until she saw I wasn’t waking up. It took everything I had not to cough or gasp for air. I laid still as I could while praying to God she didn’t see my chest move or check my pulse. The freaky amazon bitch was too eager to play in my pussy than to make sure I was dead.

Once she got my jeans and thong down far enough, she slid two of her fingers inside of my pussy. Those thangs were so long and skinny it felt like I was getting fucked by chopsticks. I clenched my teeth as hard as I could and kept telling myself to relax. She slurped and sucked my juices from her fingers.

“Ivan was right about how fat and juicy your kitty cat is. You taste just as good as you look. Phat Kat indeed.”

Her freaky ass buried her face in my pussy and made all types of moaning sounds. I carefully looked down at her lapping up my pussy like a thirsty dog.