Not Just The King Of Brooklyn

Chapter 5

"Yous what!?" I cry. Spot looks at his lap.

"I's killed 'im. Nobody respected me. Especially 'im. I's don't regret it, but I's don't want yous ta get hoit 'cause of me. Dere might be a kid just like me back den dat wants ta kill me just as bad as I's wanted ta kill 'im." Spot tells me. I sit up quickly, whimpering in pain as my ribs begin to hurt a lot. The pain is so bad that my side is throbbing. I wrap my arms around Spot.

"I's don't care if yous killed 'im. Dat was a long time ago. Yous betta not get killed. I's need ya, Spot." I say shakily. He turns to me and kisses my forehead before propping the pillow up and helping me sit against it.

"Are yous in a lot of pain?" Spot asks. I nod and put a hand over my ribs. He gets up and stands in front of the dresser. He opens the top drawer and pulls out a bottle of pills.

"Yous didn't take one of dese dis mornin' did ya?" Spot asks as he opens the bottle. I shake my head.

"No. Yous kinda left before I's could ask for it." I reply with a sheepish smile. Spot puts one in his hand and gives it to me before walking into the bathroom to get me a glass of water. I accept the glass as he sit back down on the edge of the bed. I stretch up, ignoring the pain in my side, and kiss his cheek. I then put the pill on my tongue before chugging the water.

"Did ya get it down?" Spot asks. I nod and hand him the glass. He stands up and takes the glass back to the bathroom.

"Spot?" I ask curiously. He hasn't come back out yet. No response. I frown.

"Spot?" I ask again, but louder this time. He still doesn't respond. I groan as I move to sit on the edge of the bed. I lean forward to look in the bathroom and I see him sitting on the floor.

"What's da matta?" I ask worriedly. Spot doesn't answer, he just looks down and closes his eyes. I stumble off the bed and nearly fall into the door. Spot doesn't look up.

"Spotty, what's wrong?" I ask as I carefully sit beside him. A tear falls down his cheek and he turns his head away from me. I frown and wipe it away quickly before wrapping my arms around him and laying my head on his shoulder.

"Everythin' dat's happened ta yous is my fault. Even when wes foist met when dose scabbas were goin' ta rape yous. It was my fault. I's told 'em dat dey could neva get a poitty goil ta like 'em, so dey went afta yous. And now yous got hoit again 'cause of me." Spot says. I shake my head.

"It's okay, Spot. I's fine, really." I reassure him. Spot shakes his head.

"No yoa not! Yous have two bruised ribs, an almost healed lip, and a kinda bruised cheek! How do yous call dat okay!?" Spot asks, clearly very upset that I'm hurt. I frown.

"Spot, I's gonna be okay. It won't be long till I's all healed up." I tell him. He slams his fist down on the floor.

"Yoa not okay! Damnit Bree! Don't yous get dat ya shouldn't be hoit like dis!? I's shouldn't have ta give ya pain medicine every mornin' and every night! Yous shouldn't have ta be pushed in a fuckin' wheelchair ta just go to da bathroom!" Spot shouts and gets up. He storms out of the bathroom and out of our room, slamming the door behind him. Great...not only is he pissed at me, but I'm stuck on the bathroom floor. I notice that he left his hat on the floor next to me, so I pick it up and hug it to my chest tightly. I don't bother to call for Flight to help me back to bed. I'd rather just sit here and wait for Spot to come back. It feels like I've been sitting here for hours. And I must have been since it's starting to get dark.

"Bree, yous need ta take yoa pain medicine...Bree?" I hear Spot ask as the bedroom door opens. I scoot over into the corner of the bathroom and pull my knees to my chest even though it's causing some pain in my side.