Dust in the Wind: The Undoing of Malachi King

Flashback..

Sleeping that night was a pain in the ass. It seemed like everytime I closed my eyes I heard his voice. He called himself King. Where the hell he got that name I'm not sure but I do know that guy has some serious issues. I mean what kind of pompous ass goes by the name King?

   As I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, I can't help but to constantly replay his words over and over like a broken record.

"Sooner or later I'll break your control. And when that happens I'LL RUN YOU..."

  His words send chills down my spine. I even had to cuddle with Devon just to have some type of false security. But, not even his steady breathing and slow heartbeat could lull me to sleep. I sit up in bed as my man-child of a lover continued to sleep as if with angels. Turning on the PS3, I load UFC 2K13 and play until my eyes are ready to burst out of my sockets. I glance at the clock and get ready to go through my morning routine.

   As his mother dashes out the door, I do something out of the ordinary for myself. This morning I made myself a cup of coffee, not wanting to see anybody or go anywhere. You would think that after my epic win the night before I would be full of excitement and would want nothing more than to be out and about celebrating.

    Instead, I just sit at the kitchen table and stare blankly out the window. My mind is swimming with more and more thoughts and what now seems like a multitude of whispers. As I sip my sickly sweet coffee, my mind begins to drift towards memory lane and before I know it I am soon consumed with more than enough information as to who King is...

Country Lane Elementary School - Early 2000's.....
"Your mom is a witch! And that makes you one too!" The little boy antagonizes me. Looming over me, taunting me, ready to rip my young pride to shreds.

Crying my young self replies, "Stop it! Stop saying that! It's not true! My mommy is NOT a witch!"
As I look around for some type of adult supervision I see the yard monitors pointing and staring, with smiles on their faces. Laughing they continue to watch as my classmate continues to bully me.

"Yes she is. My mommy said that all nigger lovers are witches. And my daddy said that children like you are abominastons and sons of witches!" He further continues to ridicule me.
Looking back my class was mostly white kids, and the other students were either Mexican or American Indian. When my mother brought me to my first day of kindergarten she was the only one with a child of slightly darker complexion, causing an exceptional amount of glaring looks from the other parents.

This was just one of many attacks I would face as a young person growing up. Not realizing this, I had continued to defend myself. That was until the little fuck began to throw rocks at me.

During my transition to reality, I remember how after the third or fourth rock something in me had snapped and I had propelled myself towards the little boy and punched his teeth out. As the memory faded I heard a smug voice.

Yup, that was me...

Feeling a shiver trail down my spine I quickly walked outside and lit my morning blunt. Although by time I had realized it, by all the activity going on it was well past morning and the block was beginning to wake..