What They Want [Chris Brown & Tyga Short Story]

What They Want [Chris Brown & Tyga Short Story] Chapter 14.

Chapter 14.

Chris.

Flashback: 1 Year earlier

“Hey, you okay?”

“Not really …”

“You still can’t believe we buried her either huh?”

“It’s like I knew she was sick, but I didn’t think anything of it because she never showed it you know?”

“Yeah … I sat down on the step next to him … I noticed when I first got here 10 years ago, but she said it was a--”

“Asthma attack?”

“Yeah!!” Mike said looking up at me quickly. I finished off the last of the Jack Daniels in the bottle and leaned my head on the stair banner; Mike rubbed my back and stood up.

“Where you going?”

“Its a few people outside I can see them walking up to the door already, probably on some sympathetic shit.”

“Hell yeah, annoying as people. How many times can you say sorry for your loss?” I mumbled, my head was pounding and the weed had worn off 30 minutes ago. My body felt so weak but I found myself getting up and walking back upstairs and into the room. I searched under my pillow, next checking my bed until it donned on me where I last placed my old shoe box … Behind the dresser.

I loaded the bullets into the guns chamber, two bullets was all I needed. According to the voice, there was going to be one for me and one for Mike, Mike being the first one to go. I tried so many times to listen to the voice so that I could realize who it was but when I was drunk and high at the same time it was no use. I grabbed another bottle of vodka that I had under my pillow, breaking it on the corner of my dresser and walking slowly out he room.

Mike was putting on a fake smile as he closed the door behind him.

“Nigga you looking like a zombie right now.”

“I bet.” I said plain and simple, his head was resting on the door, eyes closed. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking down at my right hand that held the gun and my left that held the empty, broken, shattered bottle.

“What you doing with that?” He pointed, his finger shaking.

“Maybe I’m gonna threaten you with it … Maybe I’m going to kill you.”

“What?”

“You can’t leave me if everyone is dead Mike; he told me … he told me about how I should kill you so we both can be happy.”

“You sure you just drunk?”

“I took a few things … I held the gun up, pointing it at his head … Any last words. Brotha?”

“I can’t believe this shit you really gon shoot me one day after mama’s funeral at that?”

“You got a mama remember, you never gave any fucks about mine.”

“That’s not true, who was taking her to her doctor’s appointments? Me! She was more of a mother to me than anything.”

“Digging yourself into a deeper hole my nigga.” I chuckled and blinked a few times, losing consciousness. I shook my head, shaking it away.

“Come on Chris, you’re drunk, and possibly high so let’s just lay you on the couch--”

“I heard what you said to Hope. I bet that bitch lying she’s not pregnant.”

“You really gotta stop listening to my conversations.” He said wagging his finger in my face, trying to walk away. I grabbed the collar of his shirt, gripping it tighter. The look on his face was everything, his eyes were frightened and glossy, he couldn’t speak as the collar of his shirt closed his throat after every plea, and every gasp of air was getting tougher than the next.