Bullets In A Cold Winter Breeze

Chapter Twenty-Three Long Goodbyes

**Dalyla POV** 09/10/2014 (Time Unknown)

"Wait a minute, Trenton... Let me get this straight. You kill your own family, stalk women, think dikes are cute, and your wife is a -" I start with a hysterical giggle. However, as quick as it started, it leaves even faster. Without postponing his rage, Trenton jumps onto the floor mat where my feet thankfully no longer occupy. His soft brown eyes are no more. They've alternatively been replaced by frozen boulders of grief.

"Shut the fuck up, Dalyla! Goddamn. You think I'm still blind to what the fuck my wife used to be? I was naive when I was young, but yes, I fucking know now! You don't need to keep reminding me!"

"Don't take your frustrations out on me because you're mad at your decision!" I flout in dismay. "And she's still a hoe!"

"Dalyla-"

"Ain't my fault yo bitch Gods gift to men!"

"Oh because you're so much fucking better? Did you forget damn near twenty niggas done seen yo ass naked wit ya shit all out? Yeah, the fucking day you got caught fucking cheating, being goofy and shit! All-cause yo ass couldn't leave the nigga that was beating yo ass? Huh, had ya coochie dangling out, while niggas stomping yo fuck ass boyfriend out." How in the non-comparable hell does he try to throw me in the mix with the same smut his bitch got? I could never be as bad as her under no circumstances!

"Least all them niggas wasn't running trains on me like they woulda been doing her!" I scream, closing my eyes and ducking away from the inevitable punch I'll receive. I wince as soon as I expect that pain to come. Regardless, it never approaches. I'm never struck, and I'm never touched. Not until he speaks.

"I'll never hurt you on purpose, Dalyla. As far as harming you physically, it'll never happen. That's not my style, and I hate that it was something you were ever introduced to. I'm sorry for hollering at you. I really am. But I swear to God, I don't let her bad mouth you, so I damn fasho can't have you doing it to her. Understand?" Trenton questions, tenderly placing both his thumbs on my eyelids and opening my vision.

"I love you, Dalyla." Trenton swears, gently dropping his head towards mine while his hands still clasp my face. Still in the process of his movement to my lips, my jaw constricts, my heartbeat terminates, my blood runs cold, and I can feel throbbing in my stomach and on my clit.

"Trenton, please..." I beg, knowing I'm no longer strong enough to defend myself against his sexual prowess and warm sentences. I'm far too vulnerable.

He permits me to close my eyes, with a soft chuckle he ponders my request. "Please what?"

"Don't," I whisper.

"Don't what?" He contests, lovingly installing his lips on mine, sparking my entire body with frenzied passion.

Luminations of lust, butterflies of belovedness, avalanches of appreciation and attachment, tornado storms of tender sweet love, and tsunami's of transparent love, all snap my body in the long-time longing I've neglected to accept and harvest. Even with thoughts of Toc fresh on my mind, I can't collect myself enough to remove Trenton's pink lips from mine. Even with tears moistening our lips, we don't dare pull away from each other, and neither of us can. Even with my betrayal to Toc staining my brains and battered heart, my muscles don't allow me to move.

"Please tell me you love me, baby." He begs while keeping his perfect lips attached to mine.

"Trenton, I can't," I confirm, still not ready to remove or turn my face away from his.

"Dalyla, please. I really need to hear it. I swear I've never needed anything as much in my life." He assures, dropping his right hand from my face to my neck. Continuing our long-standing kiss, gradually, Trent tightens his grip around my throat until I feel his tongue spread my top lips like the red sea, getting my bottom pair to feel the same wetting sensation. As quick as his tongue is in my mouth, it's back out, dragging itself to my neck. "Please, Dalyla."

He should have said please, Guilty. It's undoubtedly become my name after the display I've given my man from the grave. Committing this treason is so condemnable that I won't be able to blame Toc whenever he comes to hunt me down in his ghost frame. However, it's only one thing that might possibly get him to lessen his wrath.

"I love you, Toc." I whisper, despite wanting nothing more than him to make sweet, sensual, slow-paced love to me. I feel Trenton's entire body shudder and peel away from me in one fluid motion.

"Ahem..." Trenton gulps as if he's just been shot in the chest with the weapon he used to kill Toc... And Lamar, for that matter. "Umm... Okay, Dalyla..." Trenton nods as his eyes widen in utter dismay and disbelief. "I'm going to give you the key now." My swollen lips and strangled throat prohibits me from speaking anything but gibberish, so I elect to keep a shred of dignity and just grab the keys from his shaking hand.

As I open the car door and go to the driver's seat, my entire body pleads for me to stay with Trenton. Even my brain and growing belly tell me I've already done the foulest thing I could have ever done to Toc. Kissed the man who put him in a coffin.

"Please take my phone... The code is umm, 082387. Text or call the contact that says Helo pilot whenever you get service and tell him I'm ready to be picked up at destination A. Umm, ahem... Fuck, the phone. Umm... I'm gonna need you to flush the SIM card down the first toilet you can... Oh, and please don't drive back to Saint Louis. That'll be your impulse, but I assure you it's not a wise decision." Trenton cries, turning and lowering his head to try to escape my watery gaze.

"Oh, fuck the car... Umm. When you get to the airport, just park in the VIP spaces, and I'll pick it up whenever I can...." Trenton exclaims, barely having enough breath to explain anything else. "Goodbye, Dalyla," he murmurs his last statement in the most flustered and shattered voice I've ever heard.

As he walks away, tears coat my eyes, especially after I realize the code to his phone is my birthday. Silently letting my tears fall, for the last time, I watch him grab his chair and looking into the distance with his back turned so I can't see his discharging pupils. Nonetheless, the rapid rising and falling of his shoulders exhibit that he's crying even harder than I am. As arid as this forlorn palace of death is, I'm sure crops will grow from all of our grievings.

"Goodbye, Trent." I sob. With no chance that the sound reaches his ears, I carry myself into the driver's seat and pull off, mourning the losses of my dead and alive best friends.

**Trent POV** 09/10/2014 (Time Unknown)

I keep my back turned even after the mashing sound of dirt, rock, and rubber are long gone. I can't bring myself to turn around and view that I'm genuinely all alone, even though I have a wife, friends, and people who care about me throughout Chicago. I take my usual deep breath to try to calm my thoughts, although I know it's a pointless action. Nothing will be able to relax me after what's just occurred. Nothing but sleep, I determine.