Page 38 of On You 2

My mother smirked at me like she knew I was full of shit anyway before stepping out of the room, and a few seconds later, I heard her and Rami heading out the front door.

I waited until I heard them make it down the stoop and farther along the sidewalk before I moved. Grabbing my hoodie off the chair near my bed, I threw it on, took the money out of the closet, and pulled the hoodie over my head before leaving out behind them.

I kept my hands buried inside my hoodie pocket while walking fast, trying my hardest not to keep looking over my shoulder every five seconds. Every person standing outside suddenly looked suspicious to me now. Every slow-moving car felt like it was watching.

I mainly wanted to check on Harold and make sure he was straight because I already knew he was taking it worse than me. That was his brother laying there.

Before we split up earlier, he mentioned calling in an anonymous tip once he got home so the police could find the bodies without knowing he had been over there.

Honestly, he was in a fucked up position. He was so scared of probation that even reporting a crime scene felt dangerous. That’s part of why so much shit goes unreported in New York anyway. Half the people in the neighborhoods don’t trust the police, and the other half are too scared of getting wrapped up in something themselves.

When I got to the end of the block and was about to turn down by Harold’s building, I froze in my tracks. Flashing lights bounced against the wet pavement in the distance while somebody screamed so hard it sounded like their chest was caving in.

I stayed where I was at, my heart immediately speeding up because I ain’t know what the fuck had happened now. Police cars clogged the block ahead, red and blue lights flickering against windows and parked cars, while people started gathering outside trying to see what was going on.

For a second, I thought about turning around and going back home. After what I’d already seen tonight, I wasn’t trying to walk into any more bullshit.

I stood near the corner watching from a distance until Crackhead Sammy came stumbling down the sidewalk with both hands pressed on top of his head like he was stressed. His eyes looked wide and restless while he kept glancing back toward the crowd behind him.

“Yo, Sammy,” I called out cautiously. “What the hell happened down there?”

“Man, they shot lil Harold.”

“What?”

My eyes instantly shot back down the block toward the flashing lights because the shit ain’t even sound real coming out his mouth.

“Is he dead?”

“As a muhfuckin doorknob, you hear me? They're saying Chase got killed at some apartment too. God damn, man.” Sammy shook his head hard while rubbing both hands over his face. “Let me take my ass home before somebody comes after me.”

He hurried off down the sidewalk, looking genuinely terrified, moving fast like death itself was somewhere behind him.

I stood planted in one spot after that.

My heart felt like it dropped straight into my stomach when I heard they got Harold, too. Less than two hours ago, I was standing right next to him while he held his brother on that apartment floor, screaming and crying. Now somebody has killed him, too?

None of this shit was making sense.

I turned around and headed back toward my house as fast as my legs would carry me. My mind was racing too hard to stay outside around all those people.

I had way more questions than answers now.

I took long strides back up the block, feeling as if all I needed now was to get to my stoop. However, at the exact moment that I finally stepped up to run inside, I felt a force grab me from behind, and a wool bag was put over my head.

I felt my body being shoved into a car filled with cigar smoke. Tires screeched against the concrete, and that’s when I started to scream. I wished I’d never come outside to begin with.

The ride felt never ending. Every bump in the road jerked my body around while that rough wool bag stayed tight over my head, making it hard to breathe.

At this point, all I could think about was my mama probably sitting in the apartment, wondering where I was, while I was somewhere about to get killed over some shit I barely even understood.

When the car finally came to a stop, somebody roughly yanked me forward before snatching the bag off my head.

“Where the fuck is the two hundred thousand dollars that got stolen from the stash spot earlier?” he snapped.

“What?” My voice came out shaky.

“I ain’t take no two hundred thousand dollars. What the fuck is you talking about?”