Page 4 of Juliet's Echo

“Naw. Hell naw. The fuck you mean she didn’t survive. She died during the birth?” I asked, tears now welling in my eyes.

“Miss Hill, sadly, passed before labor. She succumbed to the injuries brought on by the gunshot wounds,” the doctor explained. “As we know, Miss Hill—”

“Simone,” I corrected.

“Simone,” the doctor nodded. “Simone was brought in today due to two gunshot wounds—one to the stomach and one to the chest—both prompting the emergency C-section.”

She looked at the distress on each of our faces before continuing.

“Unfortunately, doctors were not able to stop her bleeding and…”

“She’s dead?” I questioned. Not that it was really a question—it was more of a cry for help. My best friend. My voice of reason. The quiet to my storms. Someone who never asked for anything but gave everything she had. Someone whose smile and humor could bring peace if World War Three broke out.

And she died?

No—correction—she was murdered.

“We have grieving counselors on site and ready if you need, and Simone’s parents are already here and gave consent for me to bring this information to you. You have my condolences,” the doctor stated before making her exit.

My body was so numb and confused that all I could do was stand still. My vision vanished, and my breathing halted. For the second time today, fear consumed my body, and I didn’t like that shit at all. Simone, baby girl’s mother, was brought into the ER due to a domestic dispute that turned violent between her and her boyfriend. Because Simone listed my family as her emergency contact, we got the call first.

I took a liking to Simone when she came to tutor the neighbor’s kids. She was stunning—peanut butter skin, thick black hair that she always kept in a high ponytail, secured by what she called a bo-bo. And she always had a book in her hand. As a matter of fact, she was the only person I knew who went to the library.

She had a slick-ass mouth, too. The first time we spoke was because she caught me staring from my front porch as she crossed the street into the neighbor’s yard.

“Damn, if I trip, it’s definitely going to be your fault for staring at me so hard,” she said, rolling her dark brown eyes.

Her eyes. Her eyes are what mesmerized me first—well, that and all that ass she carried in those jeans. That ass could get her the dick, but those eyes could get her the world.

“Nah, if you fall, it’s because you're looking down and your neck can’t support all that weight from your big-ass head,” I shot back. “Gravity is a bitch, ain’t it?”

“Oh shit, little rich boy got jokes,” she laughed. “I see you holding an Xbox controller. What do you play?”

“Everything, but currently rocking out with 2K,” I responded.

“You nice?” she asked.

“Come find out,” I gestured my head toward my front door.

“Later. I have this tutoring session but give me your number. I’ll text you when I’m done,” she smiled.

“Echo!”

My father’s deep call of my name made my blood flow again and all my senses returned.

“Did you hear me, son?” he questioned. “I know how close you were to Simone, but you cannot retaliate.”

Simone’s boyfriend, Sloane Roberts, was a weirdo. One of those kids you just knew had the tendencies to be a damn serial killer. He was always angry and always just… there. Like, you could be washing your hands in the boys’ bathroom, look up in the mirror, and boom — the nigga was there. Or at the amusement park, excited, waiting for the roller coaster to take off, and you turn around and boom — this nigga. And I swear he had a hard-on for me.

One time, at a birthday party my father made me attend, I had to toss Sloane’s dumb ass in the pool for knocking a plate of food out of my hand. No one liked this kid, but he was tolerated because his family had major political ties here in Havenbrook.

Simone, however, was not from money. She got a scholarship to attend high school over here at Havenbrook Academy and commuted from the town over just to get a shot at a prestigiouseducation. It was also rumored that she was sleeping with one of the teachers, and he got her into the academy. It seemed stupid to place your minor girlfriend at your place of employment, but sadly, the stories of teachers sleeping with students at Havenbrook Academy were plentiful. With damn near everyone being true. I didn’t care to question her on that rumor. Every morning, she’d catch two buses and sometimes the light-rail, walking the last few blocks with that same notebook in her hand like the world around her didn’t exist.

When I complained about keeping an eye on my brothers while my parents were away for work, she’d ask if I’d rather watch them in a mansion, comfortable with all our needs met, or in a run-down, barely furnished apartment, praying the lights didn’t get cut off before you finished your homework. She told me stories about winters when the heat barely worked and summers when the windows had to stay open to let the devil out.

Insecure, goofy niggas like Sloane preyed on girls like Simone. Gave her what she was missing—materialistic possessions, financial stability, and “love.” That “love” was nothing but a disguise for the abuse she endured from that coward.

The night Simone came over and played 2K, we became best friends. Her vibe was out of this world. There was no subject she couldn’t make sound interesting, and she took genuine pleasure in hearing me talk about music. Not being one to overly share or express my emotions—much too macho for that—I found myself telling her everything. The pressures of being the son of two accomplished parents. The expectations people placed on my name before I even opened my mouth. Even my secret thoughts of quitting school because it felt like a waste of time and I rather waste money before time. HUSH, was all I needed.