Page 45 of Collateral Love
He turned.
He was confused at first. Then he recognized me. The fear crept in, but he tried to pretend it wasn’t fear.
“Yo—who the fuck are you?”
I didn’t answer.
I crossed the room in three steps. I slammed him into the wall hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. His phone hit the floor and skidded under the bed.
He gasped, hands scrambling.
I grabbed his collar and lifted just enough to keep his feet from settling.
“Rule one,” I said calmly, “don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you.”
He tried to swing.
But that was a bad decision.
I let go with one hand and drove my elbow into his ribs. He folded with a sharp, ugly sound and dropped to his knees.
I stepped back and let him breathe just enough to stay conscious.
This wasn’t about pain.
It was about memory.
“You've been around Kenya,” I continued. “You thought proximity meant access.”
He coughed, shaking his head.
“Rule two, keep your mouth shut or I’ll make sure it’s wired closed.”
I kicked his leg out from under him, and he hit the floor hard, cheek cracking against the tile.
I crouched down, so he had to look at me.
“Don’t look at my girl,” I said. “Don’t speak to my fuckin girl.”
I stood and dragged him up by the back of his shirt, spun him, and shoved him face-first onto his bed. I pressed my knee into his spine
He started crying then.
“Please, man,” he said. “I promise– I promise to leave her alone.”
“I know you will,” I said. “That’s why you're still breathing.”
“You’re gonna change schools,” I told him. “Quietly. Quickly. No goodbye tour. No explanations.”
He nodded fast.
“You’re gonna forget her name,” I continued. “You’re gonna forget her face. And if I hear even a whisper that you remembered wrong…”
I let the sentence hang.
He sobbed harder.
I stood, straightened my hoodie, and stepped back.
