Moving Forward

Nineteen

Aaliyah

I lay in bed beside Ray crying quietly. My body still ached from where he hit me, and it didn't help that he kept touching me where I was sore. When I felt Ray roll over, his loud snores echoing off the walls, I slipped out of bed. I wasted no time in sliding on my sneakers and grabbing my purse before escaping into the city.

Deciding to prolong my journey home, I walked. I struggled to think of an excuse to tell Roc to explain my bruised body, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of our building. The doorman eyed me cautiously as he held open the door, cognizant of the fact that I didn't leave home with these marks.

"Are you OK, ma'am?" He asked. His expression was twisted into one of worry, prompting me to send him a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine."

The lie came out softly, even making me fully aware that I was far from it. Unwilling to converse with the doorman any longer, I stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse. Breathing heavily, I attempted to calm my shaky nerves, but the moment I stepped into the large apartment, Roc was on me like the brown on my skin.

"What the fuck happened to you?" He questioned me. "Who did this? Did you get jumped? Was it that nigga Ray? Or was it some other nigga?"

Scared to even meet his concerned gaze, I stared at my feet. "Just let me get some sleep, Chresanto."

"Nah," he shook his head, dragging me to the kitchen where Prince was waiting.

When my friend saw me, he hissed as though he had been hit. "Ay Dios mios!" He cried, covering his mouth. "What happened?"

"Ray got a little mad," I admitted. "But it won't happen again; he said he's really sorry!"

"You're right," Roc stated, unnaturally calm. "It won't happen again."