Fatal Attraction

Fatal Attraction// vi.

I'm awakrened to a loud thud. I scramble out of my sleep and the deep voice suddenly bellowing from the kitchen makes me snap out of my trancelike state.
"Diamond!"

Fuck.

My head whips to T, snoring rather loudly besides my body. I shake him like a madman. "Baby, you got to go!" I whisper harshly repetitively.

His eyes crack open and avert toward me. "Wha–? Fuck's goin' on?"

"Marcel is here!" I say, with widened eyes. His eyes miror mine and his body falls out the bed as he scramble for a hiding place.

"Take your fuckin' clothes!" I scream whisper, pointing frantically to his boxers and pants lying casually upon the carpet. He snatches his clothes from the ground and dives in the closet. Moments later, Cell's powerful figure stands in the doorway. My heart beats at a million miles a minute and my hands get clammy as I grip the duvet.

"Baby, you're home!" I put on a façade of excitement, completely naked and guilty as fuck under the blankets.

"Who the fuck been here?"

My body runs cold.

"Baby, what are you talking about?"

"Bitch don't play with me." He stomps to the side of the bed and his eyes study my face. I shake anxiously.
"Who. The. Fuck. Has. Been. Here?" He articulated his words, the most proper I've ever heard him speak in my year of knowing him.

"I– nobody! I've been here by myself all day!"

"Then who the fuck was John talkin' about?"

I should've known. He was keeping tabs on me and I got easily caught up over a simple mistake - bringing him home. Shitting where I laid.

"I don't know!"

His hand snatches my throat and constricts tighter as a millisecond passed. Not the same constriction that once bought my pussy excitement – but the constriction to kill me.

"So his cameras was just playin' tricks on me, huh? This was just an hour ago." His face leans in with mine. "Where is the nigga? Hm?"

I scratch at his hands, my world fading black. "Let go–"

"Where. Is. He?"

Weakly, I point to the closet. Like a rock, he drops me to the floor immediately and trudges on to closet. Just like that. His hand clutches around the glock tucked in the hem of his belt. I fly out of my duvet and grab at  Marcel's shirt. "Please no!"

I'm smacked down to the ground like a pesky fly and my cheeks fill with blood. I grab at his pant ankle and inhibit his movement. "Please don't take it out on him!" I beg.

He pivots and his foot lands on my head, repetitively stomping on my head with his boot until I was seeing stars, my vision became severely blurry, and the carpet beneath soaked with blood. All his anger channeled in the stomps.
All in the midst, I hang on to the thread of his pant ankle for dear life. The stomps soon became numb. Adrenaline overtook my body. And I heard my screams of agony decrescendo. My body got weaker by the second and my mind became more blank as I think: I'm going to die right here.
Just when I thought it was over for good, T emerges from the closet and the silhouette of Marcel's leg disappears. The ringing of my ears  interferes with the sound of them wrestling and frailing about the room.

"Bitch ass nigga!" I hear T manage to shout in mere rage. My vision wanes in and out and finally, my hearing picks up a faint gun shot sound a short while later. The room rumbles and I hear another loud thud vibrate the floors. Abruptly, I slip abruptly into unconsciousness.