Thou Shall Hold No Grudge

Chapter 4

Idk but I love this book sm 😭

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“So why’d you do it? Was it because I slapped you?”

I swallowed hard, my eyes slowly moving around the trashed room. There wasn’t a piece of furniture left sand, the TV had darts in it, and the carpets were stained with some weird liquid. Every paper he had in the house was either torn, crumbled or bunt to ashes and thrown uselessly on the floor. The doors were off their hinges, and all of the light bulbs were broken off.

But if that wasn’t bad enough, it was that the walls were almost completely covered in red, and it wasn’t paint.

“You think I did this Warren?” My eyes were almost bulging out of their sockets at everything. It smelled so terrible, that I couldn’t even wait for him to answer as I ran outside and vomited all over his lawn.

He seemed at a loss of words as he really assed the damage.

“I don’t know who you pissed off . . .  but they are not playing with you.”

#
“I’m sorry for hitting you . . . “He murmurs as he drops me back off at the bank.

I give him a look of disbelief. “Fuck you.”

I angrily get out slamming his door before getting into mine. I hope I never see his stupid face for the rest of the month.

Now I wasn’t afraid of Warren, not at all. Yesterday he caught me off guard because that’s the first time he had ever placed his hands on me, maybe he was using again.

Whatever it was, I wanted no parts and the next time he shows up at my house, I’m stabbing him.

The entire drive to the daycare, my mind was on his house though. I knew exactly who did it.

Murder was known for his signature, blood.

If he killed someone, you’d know because the police would always find a wall in the house painted in red, or maybe it was a grimy wall in an alleyway? The side of a person’s car?

Xavi was the most sadistic person I’ve ever known and I can only wonder whose blood he used to paint Warren’s walls.

“We’re going to Auntie Yamia’s okay?” I sadly watch Rumi’s eyes light up as I buckle him into the car seat. He lets out little squeals before nodding.

Well that wasn’t painful at all.

#

“Whiskey?”

“Full the glass,” I tell her and she sighs while pouring. “How much do you have?”

“Well . . .  I talked to Brandon – “

“Ugh, why would you do that?” Brandon was Yamia’s white husband, who hated me to the core.

Now, now I don’t blame him, I only lit his car on fire . . .  twice, but he’s rich! So why the hell was he still holding a grudge.

“Because you needed the money Deja, as much as you don’t like handouts, now’s not the time to be picky.”

“Did he even give you the money?”

“He had no choice.”

“He gave you ten grand?” I raise an eyebrow and she tilts her head left to right.

“We had to compromise, in all I got five.”
I resist the urge to sigh loudly, and I nod instead.

“Thank you.”

“How much are you missing now?” I take a sip of my whiskey before answering.

“Just two.”

She nods.

“That’s not much, I can talk to Brandon ag-"

“Absolutely not. I’ll just head over to fast cash and get it.”

“Their interest rates are crazy.”

“Girl does it look like I have a choice?” She sighs before plopping onto her bar stool, her curls bouncing with her every movement.
If I was one thing about Yamia, it was that she was the prettier sister. She had the hair, the body, the smile, she was just . . . perfect.
But she wasn’t.

Deep inside Yamia is a really broken person, and after finding that out, I realized that being envious of her almost made zero sense because she was never happy.

Until she met white boy.

“You know you can stay here tonight.”

“Mm,” I protest, downing my second whiskey. “Can you keep Rumi until Saturday though? Xavi keeps popping up at the house.”

“Yes of course, we love having him around.”

“Thank you.”

#

A little buzzed and tired, excited by the thought of being home completely alone I dragged my feet into my house.

Flipping on the switch, I nearly jump out of my skin when I catch sight of Xavi eating my chips while sitting on the kitchen counter.
I close my eyes and place my and on my forehead before glaring at him.

“Hey Dej, welcome home,”

“Xavi, what’re you doing? It’s not Saturday.”

“Oh I know,” he jumps off, lazily munching on once again, my chips. “So, did you like what I did?”

“Why’d you do it?” I raise an eyebrow, dumping my bag on the counter and he smirks.

“He was damaging my money maker, couldn’t let that happen.”

“So you trash his place?”

“I was gonna kill him, if the consoles you, but he’s your baby daddy.” I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to let my eyes trail his extremely fit body. He was dressed in a long sleeved white crew neck top, and some jeans with his Cuban links.

“Who’s blood did you use?”

“A pig’s,” he replies and I give him a weird look.

“After I get you the money, will you leave me alone?” I ask and he grins.

“Ah  . . . sweet, sweet Dej,” He walks towards me and I tense up. He plays a little with the end of my hair, before letting his finger pass onto the bruise near my eye. “Where’s the fun in that?” He whispers near my face, placing a kiss onto my temple like always , and just like that, he’s out the door.