Memphis Streets 2 (Urban)

Chapter 43- Le'Shelle

You can't keep a good bitch locked up and babysitting miscellaneous bastards. So after strapping Christopher to his bed, I roll over to Memphis Mental Health Institute. I've put off this visit to see Brielle for months, and now that Jaleesa's double-snitching ass is put out of commission, I can refocus my attention on my other problems, two of them being my sister and Dice.

Dice. That lucky muthafucka. I still can't believe his ass is not only alive, but also awake and talking. That's okay. A bitch like me ain't never scared. I'll be waiting for that ass. Strolling into the hospital, I sign my name on the guest list at the front desk. I'm halfway expecting the bitch behind the counter to take one look at my name and sound off an alarm. Instead, the chick doesn't even pull her eyes out of the magazine she's reading.

"Which room is Brielle James in?" I ask, pressing my luck.

"You'll have to ask one of the nurses at the station," she says, flipping through pages.

Rolling my eyes, I stroll past this lazy bitch and go in search of my sister. It doesn't take long, but when I approach her door, my gaze lands on Tracee. I slow up and roll my eyes. I can't stand this fucking bitch. The last thing I want to do is deal with her ass right now, and if I walk through this door, it's going to be a situation and some fucking furniture moving. Instead of turning around and walking my ass back out of here, I stand there and watch this bougie bitch bump her gums about nonsense while she knits some crazy-looking thing in her lap. Every once in a while, she looks up at Brielle and strokes her hair as if she were some life-sized doll. Watching the two of them churns my stomach, but still I can't look away.

After a while, tears streak down Tracee's face and she puts her knitting down and rushes toward the door. I jet toward another room until Tracee blazes past me to get to God knows where. A poke my head out first, glance around to make sure she's gone, and then dip back into the hallway and head into my sister's room.

"Hello, Brielle," I say, closing the door behind me.

She doesn't respond. Cocking my head, I take a closer look at her. I try to see if I can catch this bitch faking this shit. I ease closer.

"Surprised to see me here?" No response.

Cautious, I move all the way over to the chair Tracee had been sitting in and move her knitting to the bed. Now that I'm up close and personal, I lean into Brielle's face so that I can block her view out of the window. Nothing. Brielle looks straight through me. It spooks me, and I lean back out of her face. Unexpectedly, guilt rushes through me like a freight train, but then I try to derail that muthafucka by shaking the shit off.

"I'm not going to feel guilty about this shit," I tell her.

"This is your fault. You pushed and pushed." I roll my eyes and suck in another long breath.

Silence.

"I mean, what the fuck did you think was gonna happen, huh? You thought that I was gonna ignore that you were sleeping with the enemy? I mean, I fuckin' ask soooo little of you, and you ... you just had to show me your ass."

Silence.

"Whatever. It is what it is," I tell her.

"This shit ain't on me. I ain't gonna feel guilty about none of this. And as for your lil nigga, if his ass wants to continue where we left off, that shit is fine with me, too. It'll be a cold day in hell before I'm scared of a fuckin' hook. If he wants to get at me, then he can find my ass right where I belong—at the muthafuckin top."

I flash my ring in front of Brielle's face. "Choke on that, bitch. I got my family now. I don't need you anymore."

Silence.

"You hear me? I. Don't. Need. You."

I lower my hands and then ball them at my sides. I fight the urge to knock her out of that damn chair. I want her to acknowledge what I've accomplished on my own. I want her to see that no matter what, my ass is going to land on top. After the silence stretches too long, I move in on her again.

"You know what? Maybe you sitting in here like a vegetable is the best thing for me all the way around. At least this way you're out of my hair. I don't have to look after your ungrateful ass anymore."

Clenching my jaw, I suck in an angry breath. The guilt I felt earlier is now a low, simmering anger.

"You got just a lil taste of what I've been through in the past. Just a little taste—and what do you do? Check out? Shrink into your lil shell."

I tap her on the side of her head. "Hello? Anybody in there?"

Silence.

"Look at you. Weak. How in the hell are we even related?" My eyes narrow.

"If the roles had been reversed, you wouldn't have lasted one day out here on the streets. Not one fucking day."

Silence.

"Oh. And don't be looking for your lil girlfriend Jaleesa to come around here anymore. I took care of her disloyal ass—just like I'm going to take care of your man, Dice, once and for all." I flip Brielle's hair into her face and then turn toward the door.

I don't get more than two feet before I hear this deep, guttural voice behind me.

"You fuckin' bitch!"

Stunned, I turn around and barely comprehend Brielle charging toward me or those two large knitting needles swooping down and plunging into my chest.

"Aaaaargh!"

We fall to the floor as Brielle  jerks the needles out and then jams them back in, over and over while her scream rings in my head.

"DIE!, YOU FUCKING BITCH! DIE!"