Zero Degrees Part 1

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

Zero

Degrees

Leo Sullivan &

Nika Michelle

Copyright 2013 Leo Sullivan and Nika Michelle

Published by Sullivan Productions LLC

www.leolsullivan.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written consent from both the author and publisher Sullivan Productions LLC, except brief quotes used in reviews, interviews or magazines.

This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray or represent any particular real person. All the characters, incidents and dialogue in this written work are the product of the author’s imagination and are not to be considered as real. Any references or similarities to actual events, entities, real people living or dead, or to real locations are intended for the sole purpose of giving this novel a sense of reality. Any similarities with other names, characters, entities, places, people or incidents are entirely coincidental.

Author’s Note

First and foremost I would like to thank the Lord Almighty for giving me the gift of writing. Thank you to my parents, family members and friends who have been there for me through it all. I love you. To all of the loyal readers who have supported my work since the release of Forbidden Fruit, I dedicate this one to you.

I started writing “Zero Degrees” years ago, but for some reason I never finished. It just wasn’t going in the direction hat I wanted, so I put it down for later. Recently I signed with Leo Sullivan’s publishing company (Sullivan Productions LLC) and we discussed doing a collaboration. After digging the old manuscript out, I blew the dust off and asked him if he’d help me bring Zeaira Rowe to life. He obliged and we present to you our first collaboration “Zero Degrees”. Thank you Leo Sullivan, you’re such an artist when it comes to words.

Readers, I hope you enjoy and feel the passion that we poured onto each page.

I do not condone underage sex, drug use or violent behavior. However, the circumstances in this book are real and true to life. Just because we don’t talk about certain social issues do not mean they don’t exist. Some of the subjects touched in this book are taboo, because the characters are minors. As a society we have to acknowledge that these things are happening to be equipped to educate and lead our youth in the right direction. Please pay attention to this cautionary tale.

Nika Michelle

PART ONE

Chapter 1

1993

I watched as the blood oozed from his head. I was supposed to feel something, like remorse maybe, but I didn’t. As his eyes stared blankly at me all that flashed through my mind was the abuse that he’d afflicted upon me and my mother over the years. Shit, it actually felt good to see him lying there dead. It was finally over. As I sat down on the sofa, I placed the gun on the coffee table and picked up the house phone to dial 911. My mom was due home from work in less than twenty minutes. I didn’t want her to see police and paramedics when she pulled up, but what was done was done. I’d murdered Goody and I knew the consequences of my actions.

“911, what is your emergency?” The female dispatcher asked.

“I just killed my mom’s boyfriend,” I stated calmly.

“Ma’am, did you just say that you…”

“Yes, I just shot and killed my mother’s boyfriend.”

“Okay, was this an act of self-defense?”

“In a way, yes, shit, the sorry mufucka’s been beatin’ on my mom and tryin’ to rape me for years. I got tired of that shit, so while he was under the sink fixing a pipe I shot him.”

“What’s your address ma’am?”

“1215 Shaw Rd. in University Estates.”

“Okay. We’re sending someone there right now.”

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically.
“Ma’am, please stay on the line until…”

Cutting her off I said, “You don’t have to worry. I won’t run. I know what I’m facing and I accepted that before I did it. I really don’t give a fuck. He won’t hurt me or my mom anymore and that’s all that matters.”

“I understand,” the operator said.

“Do you really? Have you ever watched a huge man beat on a helpless, defenseless woman for nothing? Huh?” I asked angrily. Not meaning to take my aggression out on her didn’t stop me from doing it.

“Uh, no, but…”

“Well, you don’t understand.”

“Look ma’am…”

“Stop callin’ me that. I’m fourteen years old. I’m hardly a fuckin’ ma’am.”

“Fourteen? I’m sorry. You sound much older,” she said.

“Be me for five minutes and you’ll see why,” I told her.

I hung up the phone without giving her any more information and waited patiently for the cops to arrive. Twenty minutes later there was a knock at the door. Walking slowly to the door like a zombie, I knew that it was the police. When I opened the door there were two detectives standing there with their badges visible.

“I’m Officer Greyson and this is Officer Stephens. We received a call from this residence. Is there someone here who’s been shot?” Officer Greyson looked to be in his mid-forties and was heavy set with broad shoulders. A fringe of graying hair ringed his head and his skin was the color of a brown paper bag. He had sharp features and deep penetrating brown eyes that held mine. His partner Stephens was white and looked a lot younger, like he was straight out of the police academy. He appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. His green eyes darted around the room as if he expected someone to jump out at him. The entire time he kept his hand on his gun holster.

“Yeah, I killed my mom’s boyfriend. His body’s in the kitchen under the sink, leaking like that busted pipe. I got tired of watching him feed my mother lies, alcohol and drugs. He would beat her constantly and he couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

Officer Greyson and his partner exchanged puzzled expressions of disbelief. Then Officer Stephens took off for the kitchen in a hurry.

The older, black cop stared at me with sympathetic eyes as he stepped further inside the house. I guess he expected for me to cry or show some compassion, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. How could I show an emotion that I never felt for Goody; an emotion that he’d never felt for me? It actually felt good to kill him. Fuck crying. What did that shit solve anyway? Besides, I’d cried for too long. From that moment on it was all about action.

“How old are you young lady and what is your full name?” Officer Greyson asked. Again I thought I detected some sympathy in his voice; something no man had ever shown me, except my dad. At that moment I thought about my father. I missed him dearly as I gazed at the silver bracelet on my arm. Inside a heart shaped pendent was a picture of him in his uniform with a big smile decorating his handsome face. I looked up at the cop and finally answered.

“I’m fourteen and my name’s Zeaira Rowe. No middle name.”

He looked at me like he was stunned and mumbled something under his breath as he shook his head solemnly. I didn’t really look much older than that. It was just my demeanor that made people think I was an adult at times. Standing at 5’2, puberty had already started to set in. My body was starting to blossom in ways that made men take notice. I weighed an already shapely 125 lbs., but my baby face should’ve told the truth. Everybody I knew told me that I had an old soul in a young body. Well at fourteen, I felt old, but I didn’t look it. My skin was a creamy tone of caramel, with a few freckles that splashed across my nose. My light brown eyes hid behind long, curly lashes that women often wished for. My hair was long, dark brown and naturally curly. I wore it stylishly combed over my left shoulder, or I would let it cascade down my back. My mom would sometimes straighten it once a week with a pressing comb. All the boys at school thought I was fine, but I wasn’t into them. The girls didn’t really like me and I didn’t care because the feeling was mutual. My only friend was a dude named Buff.

The younger cop walked back into the room after inspecting Goody’s dead body. His face had paled when he said, “The victim is dead and she shot him several times, including in the groin area. The floor is cluttered with spent nine millimeter shells.”

“Damn,” Officer Greyson grunted and furrowed his brow with a deep crease and asked, “Where’s your mother?” He did a visual sweep of the room. I could sense his cop’s mind churning. He reached into his pocket, took out some latex-gloves, slid them on and picked up the gun I had sat on the table.

“Probably on her way here from work. She works at the BP on Cliffdale.”

That is when I noticed more cops enter the apartment, bringing with them the chaos of police madness. A Forensics Team walked in followed by the paramedics. Suddenly an elderly man who was ghostly white entered the house. On his suit coat read, “Corners Office”.

Officer Greyson looked at his partner and nodded toward the elderly man. “That’s the medical examiner. Fill him in as best you can while I talk with the girl.”

Stephens nodded and walked off.

That was a waste of time and money since I’d already told them I did it. They didn’t need to collect any evidence. My confession was all they needed. Officer Greyson cleared his throat as the other officers went about their business securing the crime scene.

“So, tell us exactly what happened here Zeaira. Since you’re a minor I won’t put this in the report. I can’t use anything unless a parent or guardian is present,” he said in a caring voice as he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. Unexpectedly, I felt a bunch of emotions overwhelm me as something panged deep inside me. I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to block it out. I wanted to chase away the demons and what had led me down that dark and dirty path to death’s door. My mind flashed back to that dreary night.

I was in bed tossing and turning, having the same

dream. Daddy was in the kitchen cooking breakfast, singing merrily off key to one of Alicia Key’s songs. It was hilarious, because he couldn’t sing a lick. Momma and I would be cracking up in giddy laughter. It was his ritual to cook for us every Sunday morning. As I dreamed, I felt the bed move. The covers slid away from my body and a cold draft sent a chill through me. The bed squeaked in complaint as I felt cold, cruel hands roam the midriff of my body and my breasts. My panties were shoved to the side and that’s when my dream turned into a nightmare.

The foul smell of whiskey and cigarettes invaded my nostrils. I opened my eyes in a flash to find Goody in bed my bed. His large hand clamped over my mouth as he climbed on top of me. He was only wearing his boxer shorts and his, big bare chest was crushing me as he pressed me into the mattress. I could feel his large, pulsating dick against my thigh. He placed a finger inside of me roughly. I was a virgin and he was attempting to violate me in the worst way. I thrashed and struggled to no avail. He pulled my panties down as I continued to resist.

In a husky voice he demanded, “Lil’ bitch you know you want this dick. I see how you be watching me.” His words slurred drunkenly. “Now stop fighting me. It won’t hurt that much once I get the head in.”

I was suffocating and I couldn’t breathe because his weight was over bearing. My eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. I was terrified.

“Okay, okay,” I muttered meekly against his hand that was clasped over my mouth. He snickered maliciously and took his hand away.

“Shh… just let me get it in,” he said acting like a fiend as he groped and tried to enter me. My eyes were finally blessed with a sliver of light as a crescent moon faintly shined through the window. I was able to see the miniature crystal lamp on the vanity next to my bed.

I reached for it, but my arm was too short. The whole time, I could feel him prodding and poking as he grunted, trying to get his nasty, old shriveled up thang inside me.

“Bitch, open your legs wider!” He placed a hand on my neck and began to choke me.

“Ugg…okay.” I squirmed underneath him as I tried to breath. My eyes were blurry from tears as I scooted up. I spread my legs wider, but I reached for the lamp at the same time. I was able to grip it and it fit perfectly in my small hand. Just as he was about to enter me, I slammed the lamp against the side of his face with all my might. Glass shattered with a loud bang as most the pieces fell on top of me. He keeled over howling in agony. I dashed out of the room and ran into my mother’s bed room. She was asleep, drunk and completely naked with the covers gathered at her feet. I quickly threw on some clothes and ran out of the house.