Beyonce Knowles
I followed behind the girl, my confusion growing as I realized we were in an abandoned warehouse. I couldn't help but wonder why I had even followed this woman in the first place.
"Where the fuck are we?" I asked.
"A warehouse, you have some anger built up that we're about to release," she said, opening a door. I walked in and saw a room filled with guns. I couldn't explain why, but I found myself smiling at the sight.
"Damn, who the fuck are you?" I asked her amused at her collection.
"If I told you, I would have to kill you. But let's just say, if you need the trash taken out, I'm your girl," she said, picking up a gun and reloading it. "But a more legal response, hi, I'm Rihanna, I'm a therapist," she added, holding her hand out. I shook it, still trying to process the situation.
I just got played but in a good way.
"I'm so confused" I laughed.
"You thought I wanted to have sex with you?" she said looking down reloading a few guns.
"Well yes"
"I was serious, Beyoncé. I do not ruin marriages. I'm married myself," she said, holding up her hand to show her wedding ring. I chuckled and took a seat, watching her handle the guns with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
"What kind of therapist are you?"
"I'm more of a rage therapist, I deal with the worst of the worst. I'm also very spiritual, and your energy was radiant when you walked in," she explained, handing me a gun.
"I like for my clients to get their anger out. Shooting seems to be one of everybody's favorites," she said as we walked to another side where she had set up targets for us.
"But i'm not your client" I said.
"After tonight, you will be, and if you decide not to, then I understand. But I promise this will make you feel better," she said confidently. She turned around and shot her target, hitting the bullseye. I couldn't help but be amused by her skills.
"Your turn," she said. I turned to the target and shot, hitting the bullseye as well. "You've shot a gun before, I see?" she remarked, impressed by my aim.
"I have" I replied.
"Hmm, interesting. Okay, maybe you need physical contact," she said, and I raised my brow in surprise. With a snap of her fingers, two men brought out a tied-up man who was crying and clearly in distress.
"What is this?" I backed up.
"I told you I also take out the trash, right? Well, one of my clients needed this trash taken out. This was the person who molested her as a child," she explained, her voice cold and determined.
Walking up to him slowly, her heels clicking on the floor, she drew her hand back and hit him with the butt of the gun.
"So, Beyonce would you like to show me how much of a bad gyal you are?" she asked smiling.
"I don't know" I said.
"Do you have children?" she asked me, and I nodded. "Well, we don't need people like him on the streets, do we? Plus, I know somebody is on your mind right now that you want to hurt. Picture them," she whispered in my ear as I looked at the man, feeling a mix of emotions and conflicting thoughts.
