"Kentrell, just go, alright? Please."
She said this while bustling around the kitchen, darting between the fridge and the counter like a whirlwind. The man, who had remained silent, finally broke the stillness, his voice holding a faint edge of curiosity.
"Where have you been today, huh?"
A smile flickered across her lips at his question; it was so obvious. But she chose to play along, hoping he might take the hint and leave, allowing her a moment of solitude.
"Just went food shopping. And it's only been a couple of hours."
She gestured toward the mountain of bags spilling onto the counter, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the dull surroundings.
As she methodically emptied the bags, placing items carefully into the fridge and cabinets, she took each empty bag and nested it within the others before tucking them away under the counter.
In an instant, everything changed. She was yanked backward, the cold porcelain floor meeting her back with a hard slap as he thrust himself on top of her, rough hands pushing her dress up over her thighs.
"STOP! Stop fucking moving!"
His voice boomed, a blend of fury and desperation, as he wrestled the fabric away from her skin.
With a firm grip, he held her down, his breathing heavy and erratic.
"Where the hell have you been today, huh? And don't give me that bullshit about food shopping!"
He shouted, spitting the words into her face, driving her hands down against the floor.
"I went shopping," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.
"STOP LYING!" He howled, the rage only amplifying the terror coursing through her. Turning her head away, she exposed her left profile, acutely aware of his piercing gaze.
He held his breath, eyes fixed on the vulnerable position she had taken, and leaned closer, pressing his cool lips against the heat of her skin.
A shiver ran through her, and instinctively she began to squirm.
"Please, Ken, just stop," she pleaded softly.
~Meanwhile, outside~
Whistling as he approached, he locked his car with a chirp and strolled toward the front door, noticing it stood slightly ajar, a silent invitation or perhaps a warning. He stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wafting over him, but a sense of unease prickled at the back of his mind as he glanced toward the living room.
Spotting the scattered remnants of plastic bags and food boxes near the kitchen entrance, a chill of foreboding kicked in.
"Aye, leave that girl alone, nigga. Let's go, now!" he shouted, shaking his head in disbelief at his friend's obsessive tendencies. He made his way into the kitchen, arms primed to collect a bounty of groceries.
"Ooh, fully stocked, too. Get it," he mused as he eyed the loot.
But suddenly, he heard a voice, strained and distressed, "Ken, stop. Please!"
His heart raced as he paused, then rushed back, a sense of dread overwhelming him as he rounded the counter. The sight that met him was terrifying — his best friend pinning his woman beneath him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he yelled, springing into action, forcing his friend against the corner of the counter.
"Chill, man, just chill!" he urged, struggling to hold his friend back from causing further harm.
"What's happening? What are you doing?!" he pressed, trying to grasp the reality unfolding before him.
"She's a slut! A fucking slut!" Ken screamed, the venom in his words striking like a fist.
"You don't get it! She's a slutty ass slut bucket!" Ken tried explaining, desperation heavy in his tone.
As she sat up slowly, pain radiated through her from the fall, her dress askew. She pushed it down, blinking against the ache throbbing in her head.
"Can you get up?" he asked gently.
She nodded, albeit slowly.
"Alright, please go upstairs for me," he urged, holding Ken firmly in place as she stood, every step heavy with shame and fear as she moved past them and up the stairs, her back receiving a stream of curse words as she ascended.
"Yeah, do what he tells you! You listen to every other nigga but when it comes to Kentrell? You do whatever the fuck you want, right?!" Ken spat after her, rage burning in his voice as she disappeared from view.
"Chill out, man," he said, pushing against the chest of his agitated friend one last time.
Returning to the counter, he grabbed a handful of snacks, stress eating overshadowed by the terror he had just witnessed.
"So much for that," he sighed, feeling the weight of helplessness settle around him.
He could feel Ken pacing behind him, restless and seething.
Turning his head to face him, his heart ached for his friend.
"Why, dude? She didn't deserve that. You know she's none of those things you called her," he said softly, trying to reason with him.
When he turned fully, he saw Ken crouched low, brushing crumbs from his hands in a futile attempt to regain composure. He reached out, tapping his back gently before pulling him into a comforting embrace.
"I'm fucked up, Ten," Ken murmured, his voice heavy with regret.
His friend nodded in understanding, wrapping him in a hug that suggested a bond forged in the fires of loyalty and sorrow.
"So fucked, Ten."
