This story follows a young woman by the name of British whose mother was tragically murdered by sources unknown, this causes her to move back to Jamaica temporarily bringing back old flames she thought she already placed behind her.
Date started: Oc...
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BRITISH SMITH|24
I made a mental note of the entire plan. This was dangerous for all of the parties involved. We were committing a crime and I was not too enthusiastic about it, I knew it was for a good cause but was it all worth it? Even if it is now, would it still be after we finish?
It was too late to have second thoughts, it wasn't going to change the plan or the fact that I was seated in a car staking out the house I was once captive in. I knew that but my mind ran down the countless possibilities of this going sideways and ruining our lives.
"Mi naa guh even ask how unno get him and such girl inside." Amanie was sitting next to me in the driver's seat and downing a bag of his favorite chips, flammin hot cheetos, an absolute child.
We were a good distance away from the house and would be trapped in this car for an exceedingly long time. I wanted to make small talk because of how tense we'd been around each other and also spending hours in a quiet car was something I couldn't do. It was like walking on eggshells around my partner, taking long glances as if it were a crime to simply speak. Since recently we haven't talked at all. Just the casual 'how are you?' and 'are you hungry?' but never anything more. I felt crazy.
"It neva hard."
There we go with the dry responses.
I tried cooking up something to talk about but had no luck, we were back in the same awkward state we were in when I just got back to Jamaica. Everything between us got so stiff in just two days and it makes me so sad. Sometimes you want something so bad you begin to sabotage what you actually have at the moment.
We made eye contact briefly and that's when I couldn't take it anymore.
"We good?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah man, wah mek?"
"Mi nuh know because yuh can hardly look pon mi and yuh nuh talk to mi nuh more." Sighing, he reclined his seat and crumbled the chips bag putting it in the paper bag we had rested on the floor.
"You neva waa talk and mi naa guh talk to mi self, afta mi anno mad summady."
I didn't like his tone but I sympathised, he was right. The tension between us has always been caused by me pushing him away when times get rough, it has always been my fault. Had I been in his shoes the way I had been with Zion I probably would've left, me complaining right now was me being insensitive because I could have been in this car completely alone.
Unsure of what to say I turned in my seat to look at him, "I'm sorry."
