 
### The Diamond Mine

of

### Diamond's Mind

A Compilation of Short Stories Written by Diamond Cartel

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Any characters, incidents, situations, or the like are not real nor are they based on actual events. Similarities to individuals, living or deceased are purely coincidental and not deliberately intentional.

Copyright 2011 by Diamond Cartel All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be copied, duplicated, reprinted, or reproduced in any form (print, digital, verbal, or otherwise) under any circumstances without written consent from the publisher. For use permission, or to purchase in print, please visit http://www.isyspublications.com for more information.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover designed by Kat Slade of Donkey Kick Designs

**~Table of Contents~**

A Song for You

Ajna

Balancing Act

Breaking the Cycle

Broken

Elevator Diva

Gifted

Gladly

Haunted

Heartless

Jump Off

Love's Cliff

Love's Revelation

New Year, New Me

Secrets

The Standoff: Pt. 1

The Standoff: Pt. 2

Wasted Time

More from The Rockstarr

Dream

Dare

Desire

~Rockstarr~

**A Song for You**

We were not your typical couple. The only ones that understood us were he and I. Yet, even we were lost at times. We had a bond that was envied by others...yet hated by us. We were too close. Too on top of each other. Too interdependent. Was it by choice? Not really. It just happened that way. One day we were the average couple. Going out to dinner and a movie. Maybe a drink or two afterwards. Then back to his place or mine for the best mind blowing sex you could ever imagine.

So when did it change? Where did we go wrong? I wish I had the answer. All I know is that somewhere along the line, the man I loved, I lived for, would die for...became a complete stranger. Out of the blue he changed. No warning signs, no signals....nothing. His demeanor grew cold. His stares were blank. His touch was nonexistent. Kisses extinct. Then one day...he was gone. With nothing left but a nightstand radio. The only part of him left behind would be the part that would show me the way.

"Where I Want to Be" -Donnell Jones started the night off with this sweet ballad. Maybe that was the issue. He wasn't sure of the commitment he was about to make. He wasn't sure if he wanted to give it all up for just one woman...his woman...this woman...the only woman that could or would ever possibly understand him.

"Energy" Keri Hilson said it best. It's exactly what he's taking from me. I have given so much, yet received so little in return. All I wanted was love, affection, and to be the only one. Why couldn't' he give that to me consistently? Not just in spurts...but on a daily basis? Was that too much to ask?

"Spotlight" - Jennifer Hudson may have given me a new way of looking at it. Was I there too much? Did I not give him enough space? Or is this just a cover up for how he really feels? Maybe I was too much of a shadow...too much of a hindrance. Yes, he was my star and I always shined the light on him....I guess he couldn't handle the glare.

"Un-Break My Heart" -Toni Braxton was really feeling my pain. The hurt is so strong, yet so dense, like a heavy load I can't lift. He just left me. No goodbye. No reason. No excuse. He just left...with nothing but this radio to remember him by. To listen to. To contemplate the many reasons why he's out of my life now.

As they pause, I pause, and begin to wonder. What are my tears for? Why do I hurt so much? How can I feel such great pain for a person that couldn't even say goodbye? Is he worth it? Was he ever worth it? Then my answer comes to me....

"Not Gon' Cry" Mary J. was preaching right to my heart. Why give him something he never gave you? Why let it all go over someone that just let you go without a second thought? He was my all at one time, but he's not all there is. That would make him....

"Irreplaceable" _ Beyonce' had to school me on this. No man is irreplaceable. Not even my strongest love. I gave and gave, and at one point so did he. I guess he got tired of giving. Giving his affection. Giving his attention. Giving his love. Well you know what? This is how I feel about it....

"You Don't Have To Love Me" - Monifa knew it, and now I do too. Love resides in me. Not in the heart of a man. Everything that's good will eventually come to an end. He was no exception. I enjoyed most of our time together, but in the end it wasn't enough to sustain us. The smiles. The laughter. The mind blowing sex. None of it was enough to build a solid foundation on. So what else is there for me to do? Only one thing.

"Gotta Go, Gotta Leave" - Vivian Green gave me my answer. The four walls surrounding this empty room echoed her words loud and clear. I'm tired. I'm weak. I'm drained. I can't do this anymore. And thanks to him walking out, I no longer have to. I have my out. No need to search for you. No need to beg and plead for you to come back. I need to be free. I need to focus on me. I need to let the past be just that, and keep my gaze on the future. Everything that I needed to know resided in this past hour of songs.

Through Donnell and Keri, Jennifer and Toni...

Mary and Bey, Monifah and Vi.....

My questions have been answered, to an extent.

I could get angry, I could resent.

That would get me nowhere, so what should I do?

I need a song, to dedicate to you.

To explain how I feel about the way you deserted me,

the way you treated me, the way you hurt me?

Then, once again, the answer appears.

It echoes though the room, and rings in my ears.

"Good Night and God Bless" was all that was said.

And with that, the sounds of the radio went dead.

There you have it, that's what I need to do....

There's no need to play a song for you....

Why? Because we're through.

**Ajna**

As I stand here in front of this mirror I begin to wonder...where did I go wrong?

I'm 32, single, childless, successful by my standards, wealthy by society's standards...yet, I feel so incomplete. As if nothing that I'm doing matters anymore. Blocking out the world, it's just me and my reflection. Face pure of foundation, mascara, lip liner, gloss. Hair pulled back, exposing every African feature that I possess...wide, broad nose...thick, full, luscious lips...paining eyes.

This is me...every night. Looking. Searching. Wondering.

My soul weighs heavy. I can't shake my past. It's always there. The hurt. The humiliation. I was just a child...why didn't someone help me? I was left alone at the age of 15 to fend for myself. The streets were my home. The corner was my position. Room 115 at the Hanneby Motel was my office. My mouth and my pussy were my tools. And Mr. Swag was my pimp. Five years of pure hell. That was my life. His death was my out...and without thinking twice I took it.

Self made and self sufficient, I continued that lifestyle to get me through two years of college. That's all I needed. From there I developed and launched my own business. Here I am, years later, and I'm still not satisfied. A fiery rage builds up in side of me. My eyes are burning. The tears can't even cool them off. I feel weak, minuscule, and helpless. With my eyes closed, I fall back and slide to the floor.

Then....it happened.

I am awakened by a sweet scent. The air is warm and inviting. A man speaks. I see no one, but I feel every vibration of his voice. Daddy. I haven't heard him since he passed when I was 10. Where am I? Is this heaven? Or am I hallucinating?

"Ajna...my flower. Why do you weep over the past, when your present is so strong? You can't dwell in the events that have molded you. You must focus on the here and now, or you won't be prepared for future opportunities."

"He's right princess." The tears flow. Mommy. Another voice I haven't heard since my younger days.

"Why did you two leave me?" I asked. "I was so young. Why did you have to go?"

Then there was a still calm. I felt a chill run through me as they each touched a shoulder. It was the same chill I felt on lonely nights, birthdays, holidays, and at random times when my life was almost taken by the hands of another. That protective feeling I never knew or understood was with me here and now. It all became so clear. The experiences. The lessons. The trials. It just started flowing through me at an uncontrollable speed. The heaviness in my heart lightened. The negative thoughts in my mind began to dissipate. My soul was being cleansed. A peaceful feeling rushed over me. I've never felt so...so....free.

And then...it was over.

I came to with tears streaming down my face. This feeling...it's been missing from my life for so long. I thought I would never feel this way again. Happiness. Peace. Tranquility. Hope. It was so overwhelming, yet so welcoming. As I rise to my feet, I no longer feel so heavy. The mirror, once my mortal enemy, now reflects the true me. There's a heart drawn in the steam.

"Thank you mommy and daddy."

Who knew they were with me all along? I see the reason for it all. I understand why everything happened. Now...I'm releasing the demons from the past. The hurt. The pain. The bad choices and decisions. It's over. Done with. That path has been beat. Here I stand today, a new woman. I accept everything that has happened....and I release it into the universe. I run my fingers over the image, and feel the love that I never had for myself.

"I love you Ajna."

It's been a long time since I've said that and meant it. Today is the beginning of new things. Peace....who knew it was so grand?!

**Balancing Act**

I did it again!

I overlapped my dates with Tran and Dyrell. I must love playing with fire, but if this keeps up they are going to find out about my slip ups. Or even worse, find out about each other. I always saw Dyrell as the playboy. I knew all he was after was the tail and it was cool with me. We've known each other for years so what was the big deal? I'd get into town or he'd come my way, we'd do what we do, and that was that. No biggie, right?

Then there's Tran. He's looking for a wife; not a wifey, but a wife. Someone he can come home to every night after a hard day's work in the brutal corporate world. Someone to birth and raise his kids and make him home cooked meals. I knew when I first made my specialty lasagna for him from scratch he'd be hooked. What I didn't know was the brother would be back every day afterwards. Not that I mind him coming by. His smooth brown eyes and jet black curly hair made him a sight to see after my own brutal work days at my restaurant. My Italian roots blessed me with the gift of knowing how to throw down. Blend that with the Creole and Black side of my momma and you got a recipe for a damn good meal! Cooking was my passion, and after years of living to make others money I turned it into my own venture, and Tran loved every bite of it.

Now I had a dilemma on my hands. I was in need of a good Dyrell dick down, but Tran just called and said he had our entire evening planned out. He wouldn't tell me what it was, just to be ready by seven wearing my form fitting black dress, my sexy five inch red pumps, his favorite scent "La Bella Diva" and be at the door waiting. Maybe I can pull this off. After all, it is a Friday night and I know he's on call this weekend. Maybe he'll make it a short night, regardless of what he had planned. That was one thing I didn't like about Tran. Even during his off time he was so absorbed into work. They knew he'd jump at any request so they always used that to his advantage. That used to happen to me a lot as well, which is exactly why I left the corporate world, and my Master's Degree in Accounting Forensics, alone. He sees it, but refuses to acknowledge it. I can't be with a man that can't stand up for himself. How can I expect him to stand up for me? He is a sweetheart though, and a very passionate lover. Maybe in time he'll change...maybe.

I received a text from Dyrell.

"Hey sexy! Can't wait to see you tonight. I got something new to try out just for you! >:o>"

There goes that devilish face. I know what that means...some good sex is on the horizon. Man I hope I can ditch this date by midnight. That will get me to Dyrell by no later than one. By then I'd be good and juicy for him. Deep breaths girl, deep breaths. This isn't the first time you've pulled this off, but make sure it was the last.

I have a major decision to make. Who do I really want? What do I really want? Support and stability, or good sex and freedom? I'm only 27, and doing damn good for someone my age. I'm not necessarily looking for the ring right now, but I know how hard it is to find a good man like Tran, even if he is slightly a punk in my eyes. Dyrell on the other hand is a man's man. He has no problem taking charge in every, and I do mean every, situation. I love that about him. So does KiKi, and Shawna, and Brielle. Yeah he has others, so what? We're not in a relationship, so what right do I have to say anything? Plus, I have Tran. No, he doesn't know about Dyrell, and he will never find out.

Seven o'clock rolls around and I'm at the door as requested. Good thing, too, because his pearl white Lexus pulled up right on the nose. I opened the door to let him in, and to my surprise he's carrying bags. A night in. That was his plan. He wanted to cook me dinner and watch a movie together. I couldn't understand why we were both dressed up to go out, but that was fine, so long as he was gone by midnight like I planned. I'll just play it cool and it will all be over before I know it.

"Thanks for dinner babe." I said as I cuddled up next to him on the couch.

We were watching Titanic, and although I loved this movie I really wish he'd picked something shorter. I only had half an hour before I had to leave and we were just starting disc two.

"No sweetie, thank you." There goes that glow in his eyes. He was definitely up to something. _Fuck!_

"Thank me? For what?" I was curious to see where this was headed. Hopefully not in a direction that will keep him here much longer.

"For making these past three years absolute heaven." He then slowly slid off the couch and got down on one knee. _He can't be doing this now!_ I thought to myself.

"...and hopefully for making the future just as precious."

He pulled out a blue box with a white bow. _Damn it! Not Tiffany!_ He opened it and out came another box. Inside was the most gorgeous three karat diamond platinum ring. A proposal. This is something I was not prepared for. Suddenly, after staring into that diamond shining just as brightly as his tear filled eyes, I forgot all about Dyrell. I forgot about his 6'5" muscular frame, his goatee I loved to play with, his tongue that knew every inch of my body and knew it well, his empty promises, his games, and even his line of women. I had my answer. I knew what I wanted. It was...no, he was right in front of me. The diamond was a sweet gesture, but the love Tran gives me, has always given me, supersedes all else. We can work on his lack of take-charge attitude. Right now, I was being asked to become his wife. There was only one word I could muster up.

"Yes!"

Three hours. Three hours of the best, most intense, most passionate love making that we've ever had. I guarantee that had I been ovulating there would be a baby brewing inside of me. I knew that wasn't the case though, but it didn't matter. I'd have 50 of this man's children if I could. Lying in his arms, I could hear his heart beat. It was fast and rhythmic. Yeah, I put it on him good! I can't take all the credit though. He damn sure did a number or two on me. I didn't know he had it in him. Drifting off to sleep, I could imagine our wedding day. Nothing big and fancy, just the ones we love sharing our moment with us. It was small and intimate, and a tear dropped when I imagined him saying "I do". Yes, I made the right decision. Tran was the one I was meant to be with.

"A-hem!"

In my groggy haze, I looked up to see an unclear image in front of me. I didn't immediately feel Tran next to me so I assumed it was him. Turning over to see the clock, I noticed it was almost four in the morning.

"What's wrong baby?" I asked as my head hit the pillow and my eyes closed again. Nothing could have prepared me for this moment. The light flicked on.

"Open your eyes and ask that question again."

That wasn't Tran's voice. _Oh_ _shit!_

"Dyrell, what the hell are you doing here?"

"No, Kara!" Tran said sternly. "The real question is what the hell is going on here?"

I had to think quick, but deep down I knew no amount of explaining would save my ass now.

"Did you break in? I'm calling the police."

"Call them." Dyrell said with a snicker. "And when they ask what happened I'll simply say I used my key to get in like I have been doing for the past four years."

"Care to explain that, Kara?" There goes that twinkle again, only this time it was filled with pain.

"You know what? You two can do what you want. I'm out. Oh, and your key is on the table. Tran, I'm sorry you had to find out like this." Dyrell turned around and walked away like nothing happened. The last words I heard from him was "Stupid bitch" before he slammed my door.

Tran didn't budge. Normally, that was the one red button that would set him off if someone pushed it. I guess given the situation, he probably felt the same way. He stood in the doorway with his arms folded, staring at me like a stranger.

"Tran, say something! Please! Anything!"

Nothing. I rambled off every excuse I could. From "I forgot he had a key" to 'It's been over for years and he was just vengeful". Nothing worked. He didn't budge for twenty minutes straight. I was running out of excuses. At this point all I could do was cry. I sat at the edge of my bed on my knees crying, begging, pleading for Tran to forgive me. Finally, he walked over to me. He stood in front of me and held me close. I felt so safe being in his arms again. I could feel his heart racing. Mine was echoing his. He pulled back and looked at me. Gently wiping my tears with his right hand, he took my left hand in his. In one swift motion, the ring was off, and just like that he was gone. No good bye, no words of any kind.

It finally caught up to me. My secret lives collided with each other and there was nothing I could do to change it. Both Tran and Dyrell changed their numbers. I had no way of contacting either one of them. I wanted to give Dyrell a piece of my mind for ruining my life, but that was impossible. Besides, I can't blame him for my wrong doings. I so badly wanted to talk to Tran and try to work things out, but he vanished without a trace. Word is he left his job, his condo, and all of his possessions behind. No one knew where he was, not even his family. Not that they'd tell me anyway. I did the ultimate wrong to him and now I was paying dearly for it.

I thought I could have it all. The wonderful, loving family man and the good looking, sexy, suave one on the side. Turns out, I really had it all wrapped into one. I just needed to be patient and wait for it to come out. It doesn't matter now. I've lost it all and will never love like that again. It was a hard lesson learned, but now I know to be careful in love.

**Breaking the Cycle**

It was 11 in the morning. I'm already two hours late cracking open the first beer of the day. Since I got laid off last month nothing had been going my way. Finding a job as a steel worker was hard enough, but when the auto industry went down I went with it...hard. I didn't have any money saved and my bills were beginning to pile up. My son had an injury that required emergency attention. It was at the hospital where I was notified I no longer had health insurance. My husband was on edge about receiving his own pink slip. Things were just falling apart all around us. I had no extra abilities, so making money on the side wasn't an option. I felt stuck, and the only thing that could put my mind at ease was my ice cold beer.

The sad part about it is I hate beer. Despise it even. Yet it's the only alcoholic drink we can afford. Long gone are the days when I would have bottles of Absolut and Goldschlaugher chilling in the freezer, waiting for me to pop them open. Now all I had was my trusty Steele Reserve 211. I couldn't even afford the real stuff! But I will say this, the cheap stuff gets you buzzed a hell of a lot quicker!

As I sat at the kitchen table, twirling my nearly empty can around, I began to wonder...why me? What did I do to deserve such a hard life? I worked my ass off for a company that couldn't keep its finances straight and went belly up. I bent over backwards for a husband that was cheating on me when he wasn't beating on me. My son was constantly talking about leaving home so he could have some peace. I did everything that a loving wife and mother was supposed to do...without a gripe...and this is how I end up? A jobless, penniless, neglected, abused alcoholic?

Then it hit me. I was the image of every woman in my family before me. From my mother all the way back to my great grandmother; we all had the same problems. The only difference is they didn't work at all. Their husbands wouldn't allow it. Initially, my husband was the same way, but then his gambling debts became too much so naturally I had to do something to keep us afloat. I didn't even like my job, but it provided the income we needed to keep our house running...while he went out and squandered his money. Everything else was the same, from the liquor consumption to the backhanded slaps we'd get for bringing up the extramarital affairs. It was a sickening cycle.

That was it. I couldn't take it anymore. There was no reason for me to stay. My husband didn't want me here. My son would soon be an adult and was already making plans to get away from his father. I had no job, no future, and no desire to be in this dead end town. The factory is gone, what else is there? Nothing, which is why I decided to leave.

But how? How could I just up and leave with no money and no plan? How could I just abandon Scott even if he will be 18 in three days? How could I move on with my life without the worry of Jerry tracking me down and making me pay for leaving him alone? There were more questions in my head than answers. I didn't know how I was going to do it, but somehow, someway it was going to be done.

I walked over to the sink, with the second can of beer I just opened.

"This is it, Lana. The cycle stops here."

I poured the entire can down the drain. I did the same with the other four beers sitting in the refrigerator. Afterwards, I had a nice, tall glass of water to replenish my system. I walked up to my bedroom and closed the door. I've never really prayed before, but it was at that moment I knew I needed God. I got down on my knees, that part I knew how to do, and from there I just talked. Nothing formal, no memorized prayer. I went to God with an open mind and heart and asked for two things: forgiveness and help. I had a week to make a decision. Scott already graduated and was prepared to move in with one of his buddies near the community college. He was my only child and my biggest concern. So long as I knew he'd be alright, everyone and everything else could function without me.

Two weeks went by, and I still had no answer. Scott had moved out and it was just Jerry and I. Mainly myself because he was never home; too busy frolicking with his whores I guess. I had all but given up on God helping me and chalked it up as my punishment for not following his path in the first place. I guess he doesn't love me. It was a disheartening feeling, but one I couldn't dwell on. I had to get out, and fast.

While at the grocery store I browsed the ads board. I glanced over it pretty quickly, but nothing caught my attention. I went inside, restocked my beer amongst other things, and paid for my groceries. On the way out, the tiniest of ads caught my attention. There wasn't much said on the ad; just five simple words: "Ready to break the cycle?" There was a number listed on it as well. It was the only one posted, so I stuffed the piece of paper in my pocket and headed home.

After bringing everything in I called the number. It was to the Women's Crisis Center. They worked with abused women to help them rebuild their lives. The center was three hours away and unlisted so the abusers couldn't track down their girlfriends or wives. The director of the center gave me so much information over the phone about what they do, how they operate, and how I could receive help. I asked her why they posted an ad so far away and she seemed baffled. She said they didn't post ads because they are very particular with how they advertise so as not to draw any attention to them. I was perplexed, but at the same time I didn't care. She said they had room for me if I needed help. After explaining my situation to them, she gave me instructions on what to do next.

Within an hour, I had all my things packed. I took very little; only my clothes, a few photos of myself and Scott, and a Mother's Day card he made me that I never let go of. Since communication would be restricted once I got to the center I stopped by Scott's place. Neither he nor his room mate were there, so I left a note for him. I told him it was time for a change and that I needed to focus on me. I also told him how proud of him I was for being his own man and that I would be in touch soon. I slid the note under the door and headed east to the Women's Crisis Center.

Driving along, I couldn't help but cry. I was so filled with joy and peace and loved every moment of it. He was listening. He did care. He made a way for me to get out of my hell. It didn't happen when I needed it to, but it happened just in time. I no longer had to worry about Jerry's hand, Steele Reserve, lack of money, or a jobless future. All of that would be addressed soon. From rehab, to therapy, to training for a new position. I was on my way to a better life. The cycle had been broken.

Thank you God!

**Broken**

"Oh come on!"

Trichelle scream at the car in front of her. Blowing her horn and banging her steering wheel simultaneously, she veers into the left lane and flies past the oh-so-cautious driver, but not without first giving them a sign of her affection...her middle finger.

Road rage takes over her as she tries her hardest to maneuver through the evening rush hour traffic. She has to get home before Dave shows up. He'll be angry if his dinner isn't ready on time again. She's just recovered from one black eye. She's not ready for another one.

Twenty five minutes, and 3 near misses with the cops later, she's finally home.

"I've got 30 minutes to put something together. Now the only question is what?"

She ponders to herself momentarily, before deciding on a grilled skillet dinner. As much as he hated it when she "re-cooked frozen meals" as he puts it, he loved the grilled skillet dinners. Not wasting any time, she throws two bags in and covers them up. She then proceeds to make lemon tea, his favorite drink. While dinner was cooking, she decides to head upstairs to freshen up and redo her makeup.

Trichelle hated looking at herself in the mirror. The eyes that stared back at her were so hollow and empty. Her face was a canvas of sorrow and pain. Her nose slightly crooked from the last time he broke it. Yet, you couldn't tell she was a woman in pain. The way she fixed herself up, the way she carried herself, the way she held a conversation even, made her seemed like she was the typical, everyday woman. To the average person on the street she seemed happy, well kept, in shape, and content. To herself, she was a lost soul crying out for help.

After reapplying her makeup she just stood there. Looking. Searching. Trying to find where she went wrong. What happened to her? How did she end up here? They weren't married. They had no children. She was the primary breadwinner in the relationship. They lived in her home. They drove her cars. She wanted and needed nothing from him. So how...how did she...how did he.... "What the fuck happened?" That was all she could come up with. Lost in her thoughts, she was jerked back into reality by the sound of the smoke detector going off.

"Oh shit!" Trichelle ran downstairs into the kitchen. She grabbed the pot holder and quickly moved the skillet to the other side of the stove. After turning the burner off, she assessed the damage.

"Thank God!" Only the bottom portions were burned. She shifted the rest of the food from one skillet to the other, hiding the burnt one in the dishwasher. She then opened the back door to let the smoke and smell out. Scouring the house for the air freshener, she sprayed the can almost empty. Five minutes later, Dave pulls up.

Trichelle runs out to the car to open his door. With his paper and tea in hand, she greets him with a kiss on the cheek...just the way he taught her.

"What took you so long?" Dave rants off before his foot even hits the pavement. "You're supposed to be out here BEFORE I pull up!"

"I'm sorry baby, I was just finishing dinner."

Dave snatched his paper and tea, spilling part of it on her shirt, and walks in the house. Their routine was predictable. He comes in, drink in hand, and sits in the recliner to read the paper. About half an hour later he's finally ready to eat dinner. As Trichelle was preparing his plate, Dave went to the back room. When he came out, all hell broke loose.

"What the fuck is this?!" He yells at her.

"It's grilled chicken with noodles and vegetables. You know, the kind you like so much."

His eyes grew dark. Fear instantly took over Trichelle. She knew what was coming next. As she started her silent prayer in her head, Dave flipped the plate off the table and began his rage.

"You stupid bitch, you know I hate that shit! What the fuck are you trying to do, piss me off?"

Crying and shaking, Trichelle braces herself. She's been through this scene too many times before. As she tries to back away from him, he grabs her and throws her across the couch, breaking her new glass table in the process. She lands near the corner and curls up in a fetal position. For the next few minutes she's violated with hits, kicks, hair pulling, punching, smacking, and being spat on while being called a worthless, useless, dirty, ugly ass bitch, whore, and slut.

Finally, the lowest blow of all. With Trichelle still lying in the corner, Dave unzips his pants and urinates on her. This was a new low even for him. After urinating on her back, and spitting on her one more time, he walks out the house, gets in the car, and leaves.

Officially disgusted, Trichelle remains on the floor. Seemingly lifeless, she's had all she can take. She reaches over for the piece of glass lying next to her from the broken table. The feeling of pain, stinging, aches, and warmth from the urine overtook her. She's had enough. She wanted out. She couldn't bare dealing with it anymore. With the glass in her hand she commenced to slit her own throat. Her carotid artery explodes, gushing blood everywhere. As she laid there, with life releasing from her body with every faint beat of her heart, she felt free.

Free from being abused.

Free from being unloved.

Free from being disrespected.

Free from being unwanted.

Free from being...broken.

**Elevator Diva**

Five inch red stiletto pumps. Rich, creamy brown legs freshly waxed and baby bottom smooth. Bikini line tamed to perfection. Her hour glass figure, covered in an all white form-fitting Chanel dress she bought especially for this occasion. With her 2 carat diamond earrings, 5 carat diamond and platinum bracelet, and 5 carat single stone necklace, Lena Langhorne was a vision of perfection...and tonight she couldn't be more ecstatic about her life.

In approximately 2 hours, she will receive the Audrey Henton award. Established in the memory of the firms founder, it's a very prestigious award given to the top attorneys for their hard work, dedication to their clients, and outstanding community service. Since losing her fiancé' in a drunk driving accident 3 years ago, Lena poured her heart and soul into everything she did. Work became her solace after losing Lenny, a promising author and poet in his own right. His words were what won her over, and it was precisely those words that she missed most. Orally, she thought he was perfect; from the poetry he spoke, to the motivational speeches he gave, to the skills he pleased her pussy with at night, every night. She missed him and his vast oral skills so much. Since his passing, she has never came across another man that could woo her the way he used to with his skills...literally or in any other kind of way.

Noticing the time on the clock, she called down to the main desk to have her car pulled around. After putting the finishing touches of her makeup on, she grabbed her red mink fur wrap and headed out to the elevator. So far, she was enjoying her stay at the 5 star suite in downtown Atlanta where the convention and awards ceremony are being held over the weekend. She loved this city and always wanted to live here, but her life was in Los Angeles. From her family, to her friends, to Lenny's graveside...there was just too much for her to leave behind.

Once the elevator reached her on the 12th floor she stepped in. While descending down to the lobby her nerves started unraveling. She was becoming more and more nervous about receiving her award. She had no speech prepared because she decided to freestyle her acceptance. Like Lenny, she too had a way of words, and always spoke better on demand. Words flowed like water from her lips and touched the hearts and spirits of everyone she talked to. Jokes were funnier, tragedies were sadder, and knowledge was more powerful when it came from her. No one knew why this was so, but they admired her for it all the same. In fact, it was her way with words that won her every case she took on, as well as her looks, although she would never admit it. For being a 38 year old woman she didn't look a day over 21...and her many attempts to purchase a bottle of wine without being carded proved it.

8...7...6...the elevator continued to descend. It stopped on the 5th floor. When the door opened, a vision of perfection joined her. She nodded and obliged, all while checking this amazing body that stood before her. Sculpted arms...rigged abs...firm butt...long legs...it was all there. Instantly Lena became wet. Clearly they were on their way to the fitness room, but Lena was contemplating a workout plan of her own. She wanted to reach out, to touch those arms and feel those abs against her. She wanted to run her fingers through the crisp cornrows designed in all crazy ways. She craved for the long, slender fingers to explore the walls of her vagina. Before she could stop herself she approached her new prospect and kissed them. Using her tongue softly, yet aggressively, she couldn't hold herself back any more. What was even more amazing is that the kiss was returned just as sensually. Then there was a jerk.

The elevator stopped. It wasn't stuck though...Lena pulled the button. Her sexual cravings were taking over now. With the suppression of Lenny's passing came a strong urge to fill his void in other ways. At this moment, that's exactly what she was doing. As her dress rose above her hips, the tongue action continued. It was moments like this why Lena never wore underwear. From licking her clit, to sucking on her labia; at first slowly, then with more intense passion she was taken to another world. Sex was always good, but sex with a stranger...a willing stranger at that...was better. The oral skills they gave to each other inside the confined walls of the elevator was simply amazing. Once she felt those fingers glide inside of her, it made her cum harder. Nothing could come between them as they satisfied each other's desires. Even the calls of the maintenance crew went unanswered. As they both pleasured each other with their mastered oral skills, from one to the other, to simultaneously, it was cum after cum for the next twenty minutes.

After the final round, Lena pushed in the button and began to fix herself back up. 3...2...1...and it was over. Neither one said a word, and luckily the only person standing in the lobby was a gentleman waiting to get on the elevator to go up. Feeling sexually satisfied, she wiped the corner of her mouth and prepared to exit the elevator and head to her car. Before leaving, she reached over and looked at her temporary lover and gave a smile and a look that said thank you. The lover obliged, doing the same. As they both stepped off, they snickered and went their separate ways, but not without the gentleman greeting them before hand.

"Good evening ladies."

Oh yes...what a good evening it was.

**Gifted**

It's been a hard two years. Terry and I had been trying so hard to start a family, but to no avail. Maybe it wasn't meant for us to be parents. Maybe I wasn't meant to be a mother. I wanted a child so bad, but I kept putting it off. I was too focused on my career. Too focused on my marriage. Too focused on life. The desire for a baby was always present, but I kept pushing it to the back of my mind. _Maybe next year_ became my mantra. Those constant "next years" turned into a decade. Now I'm on the verge of turning forty and my biological clock is ticking so loud it keeps Terry up at night! He's content either way, but me...I feel I need this.

I didn't have the best childhood. My father passed away when I was young, so I never knew him. My mother was always working odd jobs, so I was pretty much raised by my older sister Vivian and my oldest brother Sean. I was the baby, so there wasn't much I could do to help. Vivian was 17 at the time and Sean was 16. Then there was me, at the ripe old age of 5. Hell I was just getting a grasp on my alphabets and numbers, but I wanted to be a big girl and help out too. Mama always said that the hugs I gave her every time she came home from work was the biggest help ever. It was rough, but we made it though.

My mama conceived me at the age of forty. She understood my urge, because that's how I came to be. I was the only one of her children that didn't have their own "family". Between my brother and sister, she already had 9 grandchildren. I thought that was enough, but apparently it's part of a mother's joy to see ALL of her children have offspring of their own. I didn't understand it, but then again I also wasn't a mother. And that was bugging me. I had so many should have, could have, would haves in my head that I was going crazy. I was thinking about having a baby so much that I was starting to hear them.

That sound was so sweet, yet so disturbing at the same time. I turned over in my bed, reaching out for Terry but he wasn't there. He was gone on a business trip. Here I am, laying alone with my thoughts and all I kept hearing was the innocent cry of a child. A few moments later, I sat up. I no longer thought it was my imagination. I still heard the cry. Looking out of my bedroom window, I noticed a car seat sitting on my porch. I quickly put on my robe and ran down the stairs as fast as I could. Being careful not to meet an intruder, I had my trusty Louisville Slugger bat at my side. I lived in a relatively safe neighborhood, but these days you can't be too safe. Slowly, I opened the door. Looking around, I didn't notice anyone. The baby was wiggling around in the car seat uncomfortably. I reached down and picked the seat up, scanned once again to see if anyone was around, then shut my door.

I placed the car seat on the couch and carefully took the baby out. It was a little girl. I examined the child for any marks or bruises. I checked her diaper to see if she was wet. Luckily, she wasn't. After checking the baby, I looked in the car seat to see if she was laying on anything. Inside I found a full bottle, a little jar of baby food, and a note. That explains the wiggles she had; she was laying on all of this stuff. The note was short and simple:

_Please take care of Nahlia Marie. In more ways than one, I no longer can. I will send her information later on._

That was it. No name, no signature, no nothing. I called the police to notify them of what I found. In the meantime, I fed baby Nahlia and was able to comfort her back to sleep. When the officers arrived, I asked them what would become of baby Nahlia. They informed me that she would be turned over to the state for custody. I gave one of the officers my business card and asked them to pass it on to the social worker that would be responsible for baby Nahlia. They agreed and took the baby away. After calling my husband and telling him what just happened, I tried to go back to sleep. I tossed and turned all night, wondering and worrying about baby Nahlia. Was this God's way of granting me what I wanted, or was it a sick reminder of what I could have had?

The next day, I got a call from a lady named Sonja Whitson. She was working baby Nahlia's case. She asked me a few questions, and I answered to the best of my ability. I asked her about adopting baby Nahlia. She said they had to try to locate the family first and that could be a lengthy process. In other words, she was basically telling me to not get my hopes up. It took a few days, but I began to let go of my hopes of bringing baby Nahlia home with me.

Two months later I received a package. There was no return address, but it was made out to Sandra Lattison, caregiver of Nahlia Marie. I opened the package and inside was her birth certificate, social security card, and a legal waiver of all parental rights. Somehow, she got my personal information and signed the rights over to me. The mother's name was Grace, and this time she included a more detailed letter. She was in a bad relationship with baby Nahlia's dad. The night she left her on my porch, he had threatened to kill them both. She apologized for not having a diaper bag with her, but she literally had only a few seconds to get out of the house. He managed to hit the car when she pulled off, but missed hitting them. She is currently in hiding and doesn't want to be traced. She knew about me wanting to have a baby though someone mutual, but wouldn't say who. The letter itself was about five pages long. It was full of all kinds of information about Nahlia, her family history, her pediatrician...basically everything I needed to know. I had tears in my eyes. I wasn't sure if she was legally mine or not, but the fact that this mysterious lady entrusted her to me meant so much.

The next day, I headed straight for the child services office. I spoke with Sonja and showed her the paperwork I got in the mail. In a few hours, baby Nahlia and I were driving home. Since the mother granted custody to me, and the father had recently been arrested on charges unrelated to attempting to murder them, I was now the guardian of this sweet, precious angel. It took her a few days to warm up to me, and for me to get used to her, but once we settled in our new routine everything was fine. God has a funny way of giving you want you need, when you need it. I needed baby Nahlia in my life, and she needed me. This arrangement worked out perfectly.

**Gladly**

Four in the morning, and he still isn't home. This wouldn't be unusual if it was the weekend, but it's late Tuesday night...early Wednesday morning...however you want to look at it. Either way, the bastard is still not home...and Maya is pissed!

She's been dealing with Jamael for three years. Three long years. Their relationship was solid in the beginning. No one could split them apart. It was like they were conjoined twins, always together...always smiling...always happy. Then one day it just stopped. No warning signs, no slow progression to change, nothing. He just woke up one day and was never the same. Everyone told her that the signs were always there. He was "too clingy" as her BFF Chante' put it. He was "too happy" was what her brother Raheem said. "Too emotionally attached" was how her father put it out to her. She didn't take heed to any of their warnings though. She thought they were all just jealous that she finally found someone to love her like he did. Jamael used to buy her all kinds of gifts; from diamond bracelets, to weekend vacations in Miami, to flowers just because. He was buttering her up, and once he had her marinated just like he wanted, he stopped. That was two and a half years ago, and there is no sign that he's going to go back to his old ways anytime soon.

Five AM; still no phone call. "He must be out fucking somebody!" Maya thought to herself, becoming even more enraged. This was happening more and more often. Especially in the past two months. Was it the summer heat? The parading of loose, young girls leaving nothing to the imagination except how quickly you can get them out of their thongs? Was it his boys getting into his head? They were all single...maybe that's what he was missing. Maybe he was trying to be like his friends and have freedom.

"Then what the fuck did he give me this ring for?" Maya screamed. She wanted to take the 2 carat diamond and platinum engagement band and haul it across the bedroom. As she sat on the side of the bed she stared at the ring, twisting it back and forth on her finger. It felt heavy...so heavy. Not because of the weight of the diamond, but because of the weight of the burden associated with it. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't stand being left alone and neglected anymore. Too many lies. Too many mistakes. Too many infidelities. She almost wished he would hit her, then there would be nothing left he could do to her. Two miscarriages, one abortion, and one encounter with the one-two punch of Gonorrhea and Chlamydia....she should have left him when the fire died. Instead she stayed and got burned...literally.

"That's it!", she said. She'd had enough. She got out of bed and started towards the kitchen. As she walked away, her cell phone rang. Quickly, she lunged across the bed to answer it.

"Hello?" She didn't even bother to look at the number, but before she even heard the voice on the other line her stomach turned into knots.

"Maya?" A woman said.

"Yes, who's this?" Maya asked with concern. Her anger turned into fear, thinking something happened to Jamael.

"That's arrelevent." Hoodrat was Maya's first inclination. The girl couldn't even pronounce irrelevant right. Instantly, she knew where this call was going. "I just wanted to let you know that Jay is on his way home. Sorry I kept him out so late, but it's been a while and I needed him to break me off real bad."

Maya's skin got hot. She was beyond pissed now. Not only was this chick calling her at all odd hours of the night...hell morning now...she had the nerve to tell her what her man was doing out so late.

"Are you fucking serious? You're going to come at me with that bullshit bitch?" Maya was about to give her the business, then she stopped herself. She knew this chick obviously had no self respect, so what would cursing her out do? "You know what....thanks for the update. I'm hanging up now before I make you feel any more insecure than you already do."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

Click. Maya could barely contain herself. Her eyes were red and blazing. She barely slept, and after two thirty she was just up...waiting...wondering...fearing...and this is what was going on. The girl could be lying. Sadly, with Jamael's history that was unlikely. She proceeded to head to the kitchen again. She needed something to calm her down. She had to clear her head before her alter ego came out and wrecked shop. She grabbed a shot glass and the bottle of Citron left in the fridge from their BBQ two days ago. For twenty minutes she sat, drank, and contemplated. Then she got up, with a sly smile. She knew EXACTLY what she was going to do.

It was a quarter to seven before Jamael stumbled in the house. He got there around six thirty, but was sitting in his car in the driveway. Maya was watching him through the blinds, becoming even more enraged as she looked at his silhouette. As soon as he came in the door, she was all over him.

"So...you finally made it home, huh?"

"Come on man, don't start. I had a long night and I'm not up for arguing with your ass right now."

"Damn, her pussy wore you out like that?"

Jamael stopped. He knew she knew what was going on, but was not about to admit to a damn thing.

"Here you go, accusing a nigga of shit. I ain't been out fucking no bitch." Jamael headed towards the kitchen.

"That's not what she told me." He stopped. Jamael turned towards her with a look of shock, but it came across as a look of guilt. "And there it is."

"Who called you?" Jamael asked, in an almost demanding voice.

"I don't know her name, and at this point it's IRR-elevant. By the way, tell the bitch if she's going to use twenty dollar words, she needs to at least know how to pronounce them."

"What the fuck ever, ain't nobody call you."

Maya walked back to the room. She came back into the kitchen and slammed her phone on the table in front of Jamael. He shot up. "You can also tell the bitch that if she's going to call somebody being funny that she might want to learn how to block her number as well."

He was caught. There was nothing he could say. He recognized the number. Lisha. He tried to reach out for Maya, but she backed away.

"I have to get ready for work, and when I get back you better be gone."

"Let me explain..."

Maya was already in the bathroom by the time he even got the sentence out. Jamael sat at the table. He was drunk, tired, and busted. A bad combination. On top of that he felt like he was going to be sick. He was so drunk that he could probably make himself sober with one more shot. He grabbed the shot glass that Maya left on the table. He threw it back in one gulp. Then he put his head down again. The next thing he knew he heard the door slam. Maya was off to work, without so much as a goodbye. Jamael got up and headed to the bedroom. He fell on his back and passed out.

Six weeks later, Maya was beginning to feel like herself again. Jamael had done a lot of damage to her physically, mentally, and emotionally, but since that faithful day when she ended it all she had been working on rebuilding what she let him destroy. Her family was surprisingly supportive. No "I told you so's", no "See, if you had listened to me's", she only got love and support which was what she needed right now.

As she walked into her home, she was sorting through her mail. She got a letter from the state of Georgia. Nervously she opened it. It was the results of the autopsy done on Jamael. They ruled his death as a result of alcohol poisoning. She was no longer a suspect of murder. With tears in her eyes, she cried with relief. She called her family immediately with the good news. It took about an hour to get though the phone calls and conversations, but she was glad she was no longer a suspect. Granted she was a nurse and had access to many medications, but none were found in his system. Just a Blood Alcohol level of .596, marijuana, evidence of ecstasy, and another brewing round of gonorrhea. Luckily, that was what he caught from Lisha.

Once she was done, she poured herself a glass of champagne. She toasted her release of being a suspect. Then she said a prayer. She asked God for forgiveness and to heal her spirit from negative karma. Afterwards, she took a sip and walked into the living room to watch the news. Since she would no longer be the headline story, she could bare it again. As she sat there, she couldn't help but to smile. Freedom was finally hers....and no one would ever know what was really in that last shot of Citron.

**Haunted**

Sleepless nights.

Tossing and turning.\

Trying to find that inner peace.

...but I can't. All I can see is Tracie. The lies. The infidelities. The lovers in missionary. My heart still breaks. It's been two years. Two long...agonizing years. The only image I can remember. Him. Her. Bed. Moans. Sweat. Candles. Music. Boyz II Men specifically. Uhh Ahh. Used to be one of my favorite songs. Now I can't even stand anything about Philadelphia. It was all ruined on that day.

In my bed. In my home. The home that I provided for us. The home that I furnished. The home that I chose for us as a family. The home where I decorated the nursery for Baby Inaria that was on the way. The home that I....who cares?! 6 months! We were married for 6 months! No vowels were taken into consideration. No thoughts of ..."to love, honor, and cherish" were remembered. No thoughts of what our Almighty God would think.

Just him. Her. Bed. Moans. Sweat. Candles. Music.

Another nightmare. Another memory burned into my cerebral cortex. Another reason for additional therapy. Another excuse to avoid emotional contact altogether. Yet my heart...my heart can't...can't let go. The bond is too strong. The love is too strong. Baby Inaria. My reason for staying. My family. Not this person that lies next to me. The child in the other room. The other half of me...the REAL other half of me. That's why I stayed. What's why I'm here. That's why I chose to forgive. That's why I decided to let go...and let God.

As I sit in this bed, I look at this infidel lying next to me. As they rest calmly on the silk sheets of the bed that him and her were in oh so long ago. The bed that Baby Inaria was created in. The bed that I can't let go of, but want to burn so badly...with them in it. I wonder. How did I get here? Where did we go wrong? Why did...how could...cheat....on me? Tears begin to fall down my face. I can't do this again. I won't break down. I've made my decision and I'm going to stick with it. This is my family. My home. I will not let anyone break what He has built.

Deep breaths. Calm thoughts. Baby Inaria's smile.

Finally, my nerves calm. I can now rest. It was just a dream. A horrible...relived dream. As I maneuver back into my comfortable position she snuggles tightly against me. Refusing to let me go, as she did so long ago. Tension takes over my body, for I loathe the touch of her. Her scent, her presence...I can do without it all. But I can't do without my baby girl, so I chose to stay.

Two years. Two long...agonizing years. Him. Her. Bed. Moans. Sweat. Candles. Music.

The light from my phone distracts me. It's a message from Heather.

"Cant wait 2 c u this wknd."

I smile. All is well. As my mind race to images of me. Her. Bed. Moans. Sweat. Candles. Music. And I fall asleep to the sounds of Vivian Green's "Be Good To You". And I know she will....

**Heartless**

Lately, we haven't been the same. I mean, emotionally he hasn't been attentive to my needs. It's always something...or someone...that comes before me. We've been on the rocks for the past two years and as each day goes by I feel him slipping further and further away. I tried to grab a hold of him as tightly as I could, but it just wasn't working.

Take three months ago. It was our 4 year anniversary. No, we aren't married....but it's still nice to celebrate being with someone for that long, right? Wrong. I had it all laid out. A candlelight dinner. Soft music playing in the background. Warm, inviting atmosphere. And his gift; a platinum and diamond encrusted Bvlgari watch (and trust...it wasn't cheap!). What does he do? He never showed up! Never even called! I didn't see him until three days later. No apology, no gift, nothing. It was as if it was just another day. Oh, but the second he saw that watch...his tune changed. He was all over me for a grand total of five minutes. Then he put the watch on and he was off.

That's just one of the typical scenarios that plays out between he and I. It's neglect that I feel, plain and simple. I feel like he's not emotionally there anymore. I'm not even sure if he ever was. All this time...all of these years...I put in so much work and what do I get?! NOTHING! Yet, who's to blame here? Is it him for his lack of attention and affection? Or is it me, for staying when I knew I should have left long ago? Does it even matter anymore? We're drifting apart faster than I can pull us together.

Thinking back, I'm not even sure if he ever changed. This has always been his demeanor. Then it hits me....it's not him changing; it's me. I'm the one drifting away. I'm the one pulling back. I'm turning my back on him...because I need better.

My epiphany appears.

It's not him...it's me that's heartless. It has to be. How else can I explain the cold stares...that I give him. The hugs and kisses...that I let slip by. The phone calls, voice mails, and text messages...that I ignore. Him putting something or someone above me...because I've already put my future above him. That's got to be it. I'm trying to hold on to what's comfortable...not to what I want. Change is scary, but it's a necessary part of life. I'm changing, and the person that I'm becoming isn't in line with the person that he is. I can finally accept the fact that I am the one that's heartless...because I just don't have the heart to deal with this anymore.

**Jump Off**

So here we are. Standing face to face outside of my apartment. It's dark, cold, and raining. Picture perfect for what he's about to say.

"I can't do this anymore Sauna."

I'm confused. Not even 30 minutes ago he was banging my back out in the back of his truck. He had no problem doing that. He had no problem sexing me for half an hour. He had no problem with the oral four play 15 minutes before that. Now all of a sudden things change. I guess we never really do know what goes on in the mind of a man.

"What are you talking about Dre? You can't do what anymore?"

"I can't be with you. It's just not in the cards, ma."

"You know how much I hate being called that!"

"See...that's what I'm talking about right there. You have too many rules. I can't call you this, I can't do that, we can't go here, and you don't want me there. You're too damn picky and I can't deal with it anymore!"

"I wasn't so picky when your dick was in my mouth!"

Sigh. That's all he said. That's all he really could say. He knew his reasons weren't valid. He just wanted a free pussy pass before moving on to the next ass. That's all this was. Hell, it's only been a month. He's acting like we've been dating for years! No one told him he couldn't do or say anything. Yet that's his cop-out and if he needs to use it then so be it.

"You know what, Dre? If that's how you feel, then fine. We can cool off for a bit. Go do you."

"It's not forever ma...I mean Sauna. I just need to make sure this is what I really want. You're a good woman and all, but I just don't know if you deserve someone like me."

Okay, now he's just not making any damn sense. I got to end it here before he makes an even bigger ass out of himself.

"It's cool. Listen, I'm going in. Just....call whenever you're ready."

He gives me a hug, and off he goes in his truck. As I walk up the stoop I can't help but to smile. I got what I asked for...my out. I had no intentions on being serious with him. I knew what it was from the start, and he isn't what I needed...just what my body wanted. With his 6'6" frame, solid muscles, and 9 inches of pure lovin' how could I resist? The daily breakoffs were amazing and I will give it to him, he has mad tongue skills. That's all it was though. Nothing more...nothing less.

As I walk in my apartment I'm greeted by my fluffy and oh-so-overprotective Calico Linx. Purring his little heart out, he's happy to see his momma. He never was all that fond of Dre anyway. They say dogs have that 6th sense about people. Well my Linx has been around enough studs and bitches in the kennel so he must have picked up the skill from them! Taking a seat in my favorite chair, Linx jumps up on my lap. As I stroke his colorful fur I reach for the phone. I'm lonely, still horny, and my jumpoff broke camp. I guess it's time for plan B.

"Hello?"

The sound of his voice instantly gets me wet.

"Hey, it's me. Are you busy?"

"Nah, just watching the end of the game. What's up?"

"Hopefully you inside of me within the next half hour."

There goes that raspy laugh. That's right baby, make it wetter.

"I'll be there in 20."

We hang up and I head for the shower. I can't leave any evidence of my previous session. 15 minutes later I'm showered, oiled down, hair pinned up, and ready to go. There's a knock at the door. The peephole presents a portrait of a god. Not the heavenly one...but the one that's about to take me to heaven. As I open the door, he steps in. Looks me up and down. Spins me around. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him. We walk in the back to my room, and I eagerly anticipate him taking away the memory of a man named Dre.

**Love's Cliff**

Here I go again; approaching the edge of life's most dangerous cliff. I want to turn away, but something keeps pushing me forward. Love. Four little letters. One strong emotion. One deep cliff that has claimed so many lives and continues to do so daily. I just climbed out of love's trenches not too long ago. Once I made it to the top I ran away; as far as I could go and never looked back. So what was drawing me in now?

Could it be the voice inside of my head that constantly tries to convince me that "this time will be different"? Could it be the push from society that says I've reached "that age" where I need to "settle down"? Or maybe it was my own spirit wanting to return to the only home its ever known. I know love exists. I know what love is about. I also know that love is bipolar and can flip on you in a split second.

Maybe I should pour a bottle of Prozac down that cliff to ease those contradicting emotions. Love definitely has it out for me. I'm convinced; and as I get closer to the edge I begin to tremble. I'm not ready yet. I can't experience that fall again. The bottom. The bottom is so hard and cold. A dwelling where even spiders and snakes fear to venture, yet so many of us take that leap. Some are lucky to go through the openings of this seemingly bottomless pit. Others are not as lucky. I was one of those unlucky ones; have been time and time again. Yet it never fails that someone will grab my hand from within those trenches and entice me to enter...only to let me go and let me fall.

The push is getting too strong. The voices are becoming too loud. My heart is jumping, but I can't tell if it's out of fear or excitement. Tears are streaming down my face. I can't do this again. I won't. Too many bruises from too many past falls have paralyzed me with fear. As I stand right at the edge I see love's deceiving mirage. From this point of view it looks blissful and serene. It's hard to see the victims climbing out of its inner prison or to even hear the painful wails of those that just hit rock bottom.

What did I do in a past life that karma is so vindictive towards me in love? I've been immensely blessed in every other aspect of my life except for this one. I've fell into mirage after mirage only to find out that beyond the pretty scenery was the entrance to the hell that love is. I even heard Lucifer cry because he was hurt by the one he loved. Love. Four little letters. One strong emotion. Yet here I stand, again, at the edge of love's cliff. Do I jump, or turn away?

My legs want to move. They want to carry me back to the safety of my familiar world. My heart is beating irregularly. My body fights with the breeze, trying not to fall in. I look up at the sky and beg God to guide me. My inner emotions are at war with my inner logic. It's a constant battle between those two, but this time the big guns are coming out. More tears begin to stream down my face; the kind that burn against your skin as they woefully caress the cheek. I can't see, I can't breathe, I can't think...but I can feel.

I feel the presence of someone standing near me, also looking down, also afraid to jump. Their tension is even stronger than mine. I loosen up enough to observe the person contemplating a fate similar to mine. It takes a while for me to focus, but soon I recognize the person next to me. Their mere presence brings a smile to my face. My foot slips, and I nearly fall in the trenches unexpectedly.

Just as I'm falling he reaches out to grab my hand. With everything in him he pulls me out. Physically I'm still standing, but spiritually I think I'm still falling. No words were spoken, but in one moment everything that needed to be said...was. Hand in hand, we walked along the edge until we both got a comforting feeling. Standing there we looked down in the cliff. The mirage was gone. All we saw was the truth. We knew what we were facing. Not much was left to the imagination.

Still indecisive if the decision to jump was right I feel a nudge from behind. I turned to see who it is. No one is behind me, yet a presence so strong began to overtake my emotions. As I turned back to face my ultimate fate I got a sense of peace. My past hurts, past bruises, past fears of this seemingly deep, dark trench were gone. Now it wasn't as scary. It's not as intimidating or confusing. All it took was the right spot, the right vision, the right feeling, and the right person. I say a silent prayer.

God, please let me know if its right this time."

As I open my eyes, he smiles at me. My intuition tells me to go for it. I've ignored it before, and paid the price. This time, I'm listening. Hand in hand, we placed one foot out...and took the leap together.

**Love's Revelation**

It was the night before Valentine's Day. I had the perfect evening planned for Kelvin and me. Our relationship had been on the rocks lately. Well, let's face it; our relationship was always on the rocks. But I was determined to turn things around. I had invested four years into this man, and despite the lies and the cheating I knew that one day he would see that I was all he needed in his life. I mean he's 32 for goodness sake. Reality for him should be just round the corner, and when it hits I'll be right there with my left hand extended out.

I had an hour to finish dinner. I had baked tilapia, homemade mashed potatoes and seasoned green beans on the menu with apple cobbler and vanilla bean ice cream for dessert. Well, actually I was going to be the dessert, but you get my drift. Once the meal was prepared, I headed upstairs to get dressed.

I took a nice hot shower and oiled myself down with my favorite scent. My body was soft and silky smooth from head to toe, just the way he liked it. Afterwards, I slipped into my candy apple red Chanel dress. It was form fitting and tight in all the right places. I loved this dress; it made my assets look three times bigger than what they really were. I kept my hair simple, in anticipation of it getting messy anyway, with loose curls framing my diamond shaped face and the rest pinned up in the back. Now all there was left to do was gloss my lips and slip into my classic Louboutin shoes.

An hour went by, and Kelvin still hadn't arrived. I was killing some time channel surfing when I got a text from DeJuan, or DJ for short. He was a very good friend of mine, but ever since Kelvin came into my life I've had to eliminate a lot of my male friends. DeJuan, though, was never intimidated by him or his antics to get rid of him. He kept his distance out of respect for me and my relationship, but he still checked in from time to time. We were making small talk when I heard Kelvin pull up in the driveway. I told DJ I would talk to him later then positioned myself for Kelvin's arrival.

I was standing in front of the doorway, with a single rose in my hand meant just for him. It seemed like it was taking him forever to come through the door. When he finally came through I had the sweetest smile on my face.

"Happy Valentine's Day baby!" I said to him.

He breezed past me and headed up the stairs, giving no response whatsoever. As he went past me I swore I picked up the scent of another woman, but decided not to mention it. Tonight was for rekindling what we had lost a long time ago, not to add fuel to the blaze already in existence. _Maybe he went to wash up._ I tried to convince myself that's what he was doing, but deep down I feared why he was actually "cleaning up".

I went to set up the table and prepare our plates. Fifteen minutes later he finally emerged from upstairs. He still hadn't said a word to me, but this was better than us arguing so I was content for the moment. He sat down at the table across from me. I reached out for his hand to bless the food, but he just dug right in. So I said my own silent prayer and began to eat. Not even three bites in the madness started.

"What the fuck is this shit?" He screamed at me.

I didn't know how to respond. This was the meal he requested himself. He knew I was trying to make things better for us, but all of my efforts seemed to have gone unappreciated. I just stared at him with a blank look on my face. I knew that tone all too well. There would be no point in saying anything because my words would not be heard.

"Your stupid ass can't get nothing right! This shit tastes terrible. What the fuck are you trying to do? Kill me?"

I don't know how it happened, but within the next five seconds he flipped the table over, stormed out, and left...but not before calling me every seemingly degrading name in the book including his favorite term for me...a worthless bitch.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to run upstairs, rip this dress off, get into my flannel pajamas, and go to bed. This was by far the worst Valentine's Day ever. All of that work I did preparing his favorite meal. All the money I spent on special china, champagne glasses, and place settings...not to mention my outfit. Everything I did these past six weeks to prepare for this one night was in vain. Yet I didn't have a tear in me to shed. I was immune to the bull. Instead I sat in my chair, with an upside down table in front of me and mashed potatoes in my face, and wondered just how much more of this I could take.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there before my text alarm caught my attention, but it kept going off. Maybe it was Kelvin apologizing. That's what my heart wanted to believe, but my mind and intuition knew better. I got up to check my phone and I had three messages from DJ. It's amazing how that man always knows when something is wrong with me. Instead of texting him back I called him. We talked for a few minutes and I told him how my dinner plans went. He invited me to come over and have dinner with him. I was a mess in more ways than one but I needed to get out of the house. I accepted his offer and went to change. I put on some jeans and a cute sweater. I didn't want to give him the wrong idea, but I still had to look fly for my own personal satisfaction. I was dressed and out of the house in half an hour.

When I arrived at his house I got nervous. I didn't understand why though. I've known DJ for over eight years. We've been through so much together. What's with the butterflies and sweaty palms now? This is just a friendly dinner with someone I trust to help me get over the madness that just ensued at my house. As I stood outside of that door awaiting him my mind began racing. How could he have acted like that towards me? Why didn't he appreciate my efforts? Why didn't he appreciate me? The second DJ opened that door and I looked into his eyes I smiled...then cried.

He reached for my hand and led me into the living room. He didn't ask any questions or pry me for information. He just sat there and held me as I let all of my emotions out. Not verbally, but through my tears. I thought I was all cried out; I guess I wasn't.

"You want to talk about it, Kara?" He asked me a few minutes later.

"Not really. I'm tired of talking about it to everyone. I need answers. I need to know what to do about him." Another tear slid down my cheek.

"I understand. All I'm going to tell you is that the answer is already within you. It's up to you to gain the strength to bring it out. You know you deserve better. You'll see that one day. Until then, you know I'm here for you. Always have been; always will be."

With that said, we sat in silence. For the rest of the night he held me. We never made it to the table. I curled up against him on his couch and snuggled up to him like a baby. Why couldn't Kelvin be like this? Why couldn't I take DJ's traits and put them into Kelvin's body? DJ was every woman's desire, attractive, stable, loving, trustworthy...any positive quality that one could think of he had. Yet I was so wrapped up in Kelvin that I neglected the good man that was comforting me now. Something had to give, I knew this. I just didn't know how I was going to do it.

As night gave way to morning, I woke up to the rise and fall of DJ's chest. It felt so natural and so right for me to be there in his arms at that moment. This is where I belonged. This is who I belonged with. My decision was made. I was done with Kelvin. Not that he'd care; I'm sure he has plenty of back pocket females that can take his mind off of me. Not that it mattered to me anymore. I was right where I needed to be, with the person I needed to be with. As I adjusted myself on the couch, he kissed me on the forehead and held me tighter. A smile came across my face. My decision was final.

_This turned out to be the best Valentine's Day after all._ With that peaceful thought I drifted off to sleep.

**New Year, New Me**

Noise makers.

Party hats.

Countdown to the ball drop.

This is truly a year to celebrate. Not because it was a great year, it was actually far from it. I have been opened and exposed to so much this year that I wonder how I even made it through with my sanity...and my life...in tact. The mere fact that I have another chance to celebrate is beyond my concept. So many others didn't get the chance to do what I'm able to do tonight. Is it fair? No, but what in this life is?

I felt that way about a lot of things. The money that I had stacked in my accounts. The 4 bedroom home that I lived alone in. The oversized closets that were filled with designer labels. The Lexus, Ferrari, and Lamborghini that were lined up in my three car garage. I obtained all of these things freely due to the wealth of my family. I didn't work, didn't go to school; didn't do anything really. Even men flocked to me in abundance. I had the life that everyone around me dreamed about. Is that fair to them? Probably not, but neither is what happened to me.

In one swift moment, everything that I had and everything that I owned was taken away from me. I'm still fuzzy on the details, but according to my family I was in a bad accident. The drunk driver had crossed the median and slammed into oncoming traffic. Three people died on site, and two others died at the hospital. I survived, but not without my own injuries.

That accident made me realize that life wasn't about my home, my cars, my clothes, or how many men I put to sleep on any given night. It was about so much more; things that you could never place a value on. It took three months for me to recover. Yet the ones that lost their lives will never be able to regain anything.

When the case went to trial, I was there; every day. I saw the hurt in their family member's eyes. I felt their pain as they told of heartfelt stories about the goals and plans of their loved ones. The emotions in that court room were intense. So intense that it was hard for me to breathe. Then...the sentence was handed down.

Two years of probation, suspended driving privileges for a year, and 1500 hours of community service is all that was given to the driver.

I was disgusted and grateful at the same time. I was disgusted because I felt the punishment should have been harsher. I was grateful because that driver was me.

That accident happened in July of this year, after a heavy night of partying, celebrating, and being reckless. I almost lost my life thanks to my actions. Even worse, I am responsible for the loss of seven lives. There's been talk of civil lawsuits. One family even feels that I should be charged with murder. I can't argue with that. I feel the same way.

This New Year's, I vow to be different. I will cherish every day as if it were my last. I will embrace my freedom because it may soon flee from me. I will forgive others and pray that one day the families of the lives I took will forgive me. I will embrace my new life in this wheelchair. I will be proud that I can move my arms, even if my legs have been restricted. I will speak out against drunk driving. Not because it's part of my community service, but because it was once me. Sometimes, the best person to advise you of certain dangers is the one that has already lit the match and been burned.

I survived this year by the grace of God. My challenges are far from over, but I am using them as stepping stones to prevent another drunk-driving death and to stop another life from being shattered.

10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...Happy New Year!

I wish you and yours a blessed, prosperous, and safe 2010.

**Secrets**

It was the end of the school day and I was more than ready to go home. I was mentally drained from the midterm in pre-calculus, and Mrs. Torres was working my last nerve about the Spanish II assignments that I've been missing. For the past two months I've been drained. Getting used to a new high school, new teachers, new location...it's been wearing on me. I'm only in the tenth grade and I feel like I'm 80! Too much is going on, and I'm not sure how to balance it all.

This thing growing inside of me isn't helping matters either.

Being alone 15 year old teenager sucks. Being alone 15 year old teenager that's pregnant makes it even worse. And the hardest part of all...making sure no one ever finds out.

It all started 7 months ago. I was still learning how to monitor my cycles since I was a late bloomer. I only had a period three times. The first I wasn't even sure if that's what it was. It was more like brown gunk than a period. The second time though...oh my gosh! I thought I was going to die! I was ready for someone to rip my ovaries out...just like that lady in _The Devil's Advocate_. When the third one came, it only lasted for two days. It was barely there. My body's special...I know it. That's what I kept telling myself. Well, when it didn't show up for another two months, I couldn't play it off anymore. So one of my friends got a test for me. I took it...and my life changed forever.

No one ever knew the results. Not even Tanya, my friend. She was pacing more than I was outside of that bathroom door.

"Did you take it yet? What does it say?"

"Damn T, can I pee first?!" I yelled at her.

I was already a nervous wreck...last thing I needed was her loose lips making it worse. I kept thinking in the back of my mind that no matter what the test said I was telling her it was negative. She's known for not being able to keep a secret. If I told her, the whole school would know before I even stepped foot out of the bathroom. You think I'm exaggerating...she really worked like that!

Three minutes passed. My hands are sweaty and shaking, I can't even hold the stick steady. Maybe that's why I'm seeing two lines. Nope. After placing the stick on the sink counter I can see it clear as day...two pink lines. Two damn pink lines. Shit.

"Well?!" Tanya's getting more antsy on the other side of that door.

I have to think quick. If I stall too long she'll know what's up for sure. She's been through this too many times with Lana, Sherelle, and Nisa. A stalled answer is a bad answer. I can't clue her in...not just yet.

"Hold on...there's nothing yet. What does that mean?! You have the directions!" Quick thinking saved my ass every time...well almost.

"If there's nothing, then you're good. You're not preggy!" She sound like she wanted to announce that...not a good look!

"That's what's up!" I said in my most forced relieved tone.

Too bad those damn lines were there. I'll deal with that later. For now, the piss stick needs to get shoved deep in my purse. No evidence can be left behind.

As I walked out the bathroom door, Tanya damn near knocks me over to look at the stick. Man, I swear she has issues.

"Where is it? I wanna see."

"Eew! That's nasty! Why do you want to see my piss stick?" I was now thoroughly disgusted at her. Damn, the hormones were kicking in already.

She tried to play it off, but it didn't work. I told her I needed to keep it as a reminder not to be so reckless again. She was still in shock that I was even having sex. So was I. It was all new to me. Maybe one of these days I'll actually have it voluntarily...because it currently wasn't by my choice.

The next month, my mom got transferred to another city. Still in North Carolina, but we moved from Charlotte to Wilmington. What the hell is there? Not a damn thing...yet apparently. But we were there now; and as much as I missed my friends I'm so glad they weren't around to see me go through this.

I started the new school year when I was 5 months along. At least I think that's how far I was. It was how many periods I had to fake, so I'm going with that number. Being so close to the ocean had it's advantages. I'm used to the hot part of N.C. Down here, it was much cooler, which allowed me to start wearing long sleeve shirts sooner than I normally would. My mom was becoming concerned about me. She kept saying I looked like I was gaining weight. I told her I missed my friends so I was eating more than usual. She bought it. Thank God, because I couldn't tell her about this...ever. I was still at odds as to what I would do when the baby came. When she wasn't home I'd watch the pregnancy shows to see how it was done. All I knew was this thing would exit where it entered, it would hurt like hell, and I'd need a lot of Tylenol afterwards.

I spent the next two months settling into this dry town. Yeah, the people here are nice, but nothing compares to Charlotte. That's my spot! Although I will say that I enjoy sneaking down to the river every once in a while. It's so peaceful there. Cold sometimes, but serene. That's where I found myself going to a lot these days. Anything to prevent from going home. Hell I can't even call it home. It's hell in that house. So are the men that live in it. Here I go again...thinking about my father. I'm so pissed at him I don't know what to do. Why did he have to leave us? I know momma was loose, but why didn't he take me with him? Why do I have to pay the price for her sins? She's the one that opened her home...and her legs...to Keith. Not me. She's the one that volunteered her money, and her body, to him and his 23 year old son Chris. Not me. So why...after all these years...why am I the one paying for her sins?

Sure it was just Keith for the first eight years. Then when Chris came to live with us all hell broke loose. Somehow they went from her bed to mine. Chris was the one who approached me first. He was drunk that night. All he saw was a girl in a gown and it was over from there. I still don't know exactly what happened. All I know is I woke up with a massive headache and a condom hanging halfway out of me. I was in a small puddle of blood, but was more shocked at the condom. That's been my hell for the past year and a half. I wasn't even fully developed and these goons were all over me when momma wasn't around. Neither one knew about the other, but within a three month span I went from being Chris's weekend whore to Keith's nightcap when momma was working late. I knew I should have told her...but she didn't believe my sister Leanna when Keith did it to her, why would she believe me?

I wish I was 18. I would have left with her. She knows what's going on, but chooses not to get involved. Do you know what her sisterly advice to me was? "Suck it up. It'll be over before you know it." Of course this is coming from someone that swings on poles nightly just to have the same type of drunk hounds throw dollars at her. What does she know anyway?

As I walked along the river, I can't help but to think back to the good old days. When I didn't have to worry about someone sneaking in my room late at night. When I wasn't worried if I was showing or not. When I didn't have so many skeletons in my closet that I didn't even put there. I was able to be a child. To laugh. To play. To look at my momma with love and adoration, instead of hate and disgust. I never told her...but Leanna did. And deep inside I KNEW she knew what was going on. She just didn't care. Yeah, her uncle did it to her. She knows how it feels to be violated. So why is she letting them do it to us? To me? Now I'm pregnant by one of the two icky monsters and I don't know what to do.

The sun is going down now. It looks so peaceful. I want to go with it. Far away. Far on the other side of the mountain. I lay back along the bank. It's surprisingly warm today. I'm still trying to cover my belly. So I opted to wear my black ruffled dress. Black really is slimming. As I lay there watching the sun set I can feel the water lightly rushing against me. Then it hits me...I'm not that close to it.

I look down and there's a stream of liquid coming from me. I start to panic. The next thing I knew I was in extreme pain. I've never felt pain like this before. Even when I had my first menstrual cramps they weren't this bad. I knew this day was coming, but I still had two months to go. I wasn't ready. I didn't have my scissors to cut the cord, or the blankets to wrap it up in, or anything. All I had was the Tylenol, and that was from my headache earlier. What do I do? Should I call someone? Call 911? Oh my God! I'm having a baby and I don't know what to do!

Two hours. Two agonizing hours I spent by that river. Lying in my secret spot...that I purposely chose because no one was ever there. Alone. In pain. Finally I got the urge to go. At least that's what it felt like to me. This must be the feeling they were talking about when they said that's when it's time to push. I can't push yet. I don't know what to do with this baby! I was going to drop it off at the hospital the next town over. The Safe Haven law was my out. Now what? I can't cut the cord, keep it warm, or nothing!

AAAHHH!

I screamed so loud the deer in the woods across from the river retreated. I moved down towards the water as the feeling got stronger. I had to push. I couldn't hold it in any longer. My dress was soaked, but I didn't care. This baby had to come out and it had to come out now!

I remembered in the shows they always counted to 10 when the moms were pushing. I did that at least 10 times. I used my hands to brace myself so I could be in the upright position. I knew it was coming out, I could feel it. Finally, I felt a light load being pulled from me. The cord stopped it from going too far. Suddenly I got the urge to push again. Without even thinking I did it. It was like someone put a plunger on my coochie and sucked everything out. I looked down at the blood mixing in with the water. There was my baby...a girl. So small. So tiny. So...dead. She wasn't crying. She wasn't moving. Come to think about it, I can't remember the last time I felt her move. I pulled her to me with the cord. My motherly instincts took over. Here was my child...and she was dead.

I couldn't stop crying. I held her close to me. This sweet, innocent baby that was created by one of the men that took my sweet innocence away. It wasn't her fault. How could I put so much blame on her? Why should she have to suffer for what they did to me? Why does she have to pay the eternal price for their madness? I was angry; livid! Yet here she was...lying in my arms with her eyes closed. No breath going into or out of her little lungs. I just held her...and cried.

I sat there for so long that it was now noticeably dark outside. My cell phone was ringing, and had done so quite a few times. I checked to see who was calling. It was momma. I answered, and immediately the questioning began. I told her I had a tutoring session that ran over but I was on my way home. She gave me 15 minutes to get there. I was only 5 minutes away, but I didn't know what to do with my daughter. I looked around for something to place her in. I found nothing. I walked up towards the woods and almost broke my ankle falling into a deep hole. I stood up and looked at it. Then I looked at this little darling in my arms. I dropped to my knees and begged God for his forgiveness. I didn't mean to treat her so badly during my pregnancy, but she shouldn't have been here in the first place. After I said my prayer, I kissed her on the forehead. My first born. My baby. My secret. I placed her in the hole and used the placenta and some leaves to cover her up. Before I buried her I named her....Heaven Angel. Even though it was pure hell how she was conceived...she was still an angel in my eyes...and she was one of heaven's angels once again.

I covered her up with dirt and rolled a nearby boulder on top of her grave so the animals couldn't get to her. This is by far one of the worst moments I've ever had to endure. I stood by her grave site...crying silently. Then my phone rang. It's momma again. The countdown to me getting my butt home had officially begun. I asked God to once and for all deliver me from this situation. Before I left my spot, I kneeled down next to Heaven Angel. I kissed the boulder that now protected her fragile, lifeless body.

"I love you...and I'm so sorry."

I rise up, pop three Tylenols, and begin to take that painful journey home. I visit that spot every day. Have been since October 15th when she was born. I even brought my boyfriend out there once. He almost freaked when I cursed him out for sitting on that boulder. He would understand if he knew who was under it. But he doesn't. No one does. No one ever will.

Heaven Angel...the most precious skeleton, in my closet of secrets.

**The Standoff: Pt. 1**

It was the end of the day, and Nakia was more than ready to go home. She'd had a rough week at the First Star National Bank with a bomb threat, two drawer shortages that took hours to figure out, and a conflict with a now ex-customer, and she was ready to end it all. Her bottle of Asti was calling her name in her fridge and she couldn't wait to get to it.

"Is everything okay with your drawer today, Kia?" Her manager asked. Shayla and Nakia were close, but knew enough to keep their business and personal relationships separate.

"Yes ma'am. Down to the last penny."

"Okay, well let's lock up the safe so we can hurry up and get out of business mode!"

"I hear that loud and clear!" They both laughed.

Shayla and Nakia were the only two left in the bank. The last manager and two tellers left almost a half hour ago to meet some of their other coworkers for happy hour. Shayla and Nakia usually went also, but since it was the end of the month they decided to stay over and run their numbers to make it easier on them come Monday.

As they were in the back room they heard the wind blow the door open. Nakia looked at Shayla with her irritated face.

"I knew they didn't lock the door behind them. They're just screaming to folks 'Hey, we're irresponsible! Come rob us!" Shayla laughed at Nakia's mockery, but felt the irritation just the same. Since she was the last manager on duty, if something were to happen it would be her ass for it. So she left Nakia in the backroom locking up money while she went to go lock the door. A few minutes passed and Nakia heard footsteps behind her.

"Thanks for locking that up Shay. The last thing we need is for some loony bird to roll up in here."

Nothing.

All of a sudden, Nakia got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She heard the footsteps come closer to her, but realized that they were not clicking. Whoever was standing behind her was not Shayla. Nakia turned around quickly to see her ex-fiance' Larry standing behind her. She was so stunned by his presence she couldn't move. She wanted to scream out to Shayla, but the sight of him made her speechless.

"Nakia, we need to talk." Larry's voice was calm...too calm. The kind of calm that put fear in people. With that once sentence, Nakia began to fear for her life.

Nakia and Larry had been together off and on for five years. The last two were the most intense in their relationship. When Larry got laid off two years ago from the manufacturing company he was working for he couldn't for the life of him find another well paying job. He was too stubborn to take anything that paid less than the $15.78 an hour he was making, so little by little he lost everything. From his home, to his two cars, right down to his life insurance policy. He lost it all. At that time he and Nakia were very much in love so they talked and agreed he should move in. Things were good for the first 6 months. Two months after he moved in he found another position with a new company that moved in to his old job's factory. He was making a couple of dollars less, but Nakia convinced him to take it, saying that his experience and work ethic would surely earn him a promotion. She was right. At his three month performance review he not only got a raise, but a promotion to be the head shift leader. He went from working in the line to working the lines. He was so excited with the increase in pay, now well over what he was making at his old job, and his newly found status that he decided to change to fit his new title.

Well those changes went from new suit and new tie to new problems and new games. Larry began to let the status, and the money, get to him. He was content with what he was making in his first job, but that was what the average person in their region was making so it was nothing special. Well, with this globally established company as his new employer he now makes well over what the average employee in the region does. That alone went straight to his head. Add the title to it and Larry became a completely different person. Nakia tried to deal with it, but then others started interfering into their relationship. Namely females. Nakia finally said she had enough and ended their on-again-off-again relationship for good four months ago. Ever since then Larry has tried to call, come over, send flowers, cards, singing telegrams...nothing was working. Then two weeks ago it all stopped. Nakia finally had some peace; thinking that maybe he's finally moved on. She is about to find out she was wrong.

What are you doing here? What do you want?" Nakia was more shocked than scared now. But she knew that fear would well up inside of her at any given second.

"I just told you. We need to talk."

"How did you get in here? Where's Shayla?"

There was silence. The look in Larry's eyes said it all. Shayla was no longer in the building. While she didn't know if she was hurt...or worse...she knew that it was just him and her. 5'4", 97 pounds versus 6'2", 198 pounds. This was not about to be pretty.

"What do we need to talk about? I said everything I had to say when I caught that tramp riding your dick. That was the end of any future conversations ever between us!"

"Come on, Nakia! You have to let that go! I already told you what that was about! It meant nothing to me." As he continued on with the same story she was sick and tired of hearing, Nakia slowly started to maneuver over to the dummy lock box. What was cleverly designed to look like a key slot was actually a silent alarm button. It was so obscurely placed and blended in so perfectly that in the event of a real robbery no one would know they were activating it. He turned towards her a split second after she pushed it. He went silent, which unnerved her even more. Slowly he walked towards her.

Nakia demanded for him to stop. She didn't want him any closer than what he already was. He obliged, but continued to plead his case. He was begging for her to take him back. He felt lost without her. He needed her even. These were the words he was saying, all while she's plotting on how to run from the safe inside of the bank to the door which may or may not be locked. Five minutes had passed since she activated the silent alarm. Surely they were there by now. She looked at Larry, still pleading his case, and decided it was now or never. As he continued to pace back and forth in frustration she prepped herself for the inevitable. He was walking away from her now, towards the far end of the safe. Without even thinking, she slid out of her mules and tip toed through the door.

She tried to move quietly but quickly to the front. Lights were glaring, but the sirens were silent. In case this were an actual robbery they didn't want to tip the assailant off. She made it almost twenty feet to the door, then she saw it. A pool of blood by the door on the walkway, but no body. She knew that blood belonged to Shayla, but she didn't know if she was still alive or not. Judging from the amount of blood there, it was a slim chance of survival if she was. Nakia instantly began to feel sick. As she reached closer and closer she could make out officers standing behind their doors with guns drawn. She waved her hands high above her head to signal she was unarmed. As she got closer to the door, the front line officers could see the fear on her face. A couple of them even knew who she was. They banked there and were frequent visitors. Two of the officers started walking towards the door when all of a sudden they abruptly stopped. They retreated quickly, but Nakia couldn't understand why. As she reached for the handle, she felt a blunt object press against the base of her neck. It was Larry...and he had a gun.

He grabbed Nakia by her hair and dragged her back inside of the bank. She never made it out. They turned around the corner, and just like that, they disappeared. The officers could no longer see them. Suddenly, they saw movement. It was the barrier gate inside of the bank. It restricted access to the main lobby, yet still allowed customers to get to the ATM inside. Nakia must have pushed the button. The officers made it official that they had a hostage situation on their hands. The Sargent called in the SWAT team. They ran the hostage protocol. The bank manager was contacted, and although he wasn't supposed to the officer that recognized and knew Nakia sent a message to one of her family members. Everything seemed to be in place, then all of a sudden..

BANG!

A flash of light emitted from the back of the bank. Then...silence.

(To be continued....)

**The Standoff: Part 2**

Outside, the officers stood silent. They had no idea what just happened, or if anyone had truly been shot inside of the bank. There was no sign of movement from where the light emitted from. They feared the worst happened, but had to proof that it did. The SWAT team was on the way, but until they arrived all they could do is stand outside...and wait.

Meanwhile, inside of the bank Nakia was frozen in fear. Larry had shot towards her, but didn't hit her. That was his intention; to miss her...but just barely. He wanted to show her that he was serious and he wasn't leaving until she heard him out. What he didn't expect was for this "surprise visit" to turn into a hostage situation. With the cops outside he knew he was in big trouble. Larry never had a record other than some minor traffic violations. Now he was facing some hard time. He was inside of a bank, with a victim, was spotted with a gun in hand that they now knew was loaded, and is holding the victim against her will. That's four felony charges alone. He was about to do some serious time, and he knew this. So many thoughts were running through his head now that he couldn't think straight. He no longer knew what he should do, and became just as fearful of the situation as Nakia.

"What the fuck, Nakia?! Are you trying to get me arrested?"

Nakia stood in frozen silence. No words would leave her lips. Her skin was flushed. Her eyes were wide open and watery. She thought this was the end. Her life as she knew it was over. She couldn't' imagine walking out of the bank alive. All she saw was death in his face. It scared her. Terrified her. Paralyzed with fear, all she could do was stand there, stare blankly into his face, and not utter one more word.

"Nakia! Nakia!"

Larry couldn't get a response from her. Suddenly, his rage turned into concern. He knew he scared her, but he didn't mean to silence her. This situation was going from bad to worse in his eyes. He was already on the verge of losing everything he worked so hard for, but now he couldn't even get her to talk to him. He began to pace back and forth. This was not how things were supposed to go.

"Look....I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shot at you."

Nothing.

"I can't believe you tried to run out on me again. All I wanted to do was talk to you, and you turned your back on me."

Silence.

" You don't know how hard it is for me to come here and see you. I've missed you so much. I know I fucked up. That's what I was trying to tell you. No more lies. No more excuses. I fucked up."

Nakia just stood there. Her eyes were no longer wide, but her silence was still dominant.

"I'm just trying to make things right between us. Now....now....fuck it."

Larry began to pace back and forth again. Nakia just stared at him. This was a side of him she never saw. He was no longer in his right mind. She had no idea what he was capable of in this state, but she knew not to try to escape again. This time, he might not intentionally miss. Nakia leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. Watching. Waiting. She went from being fearful, to being confused, to being downright pissed. Yet all you saw was a blank look on her face. No expression, just that cold, blank look. She didn't want to show any signs of what she was feeling because she didn't want Larry to play on her emotions. It was a tactic she learned in training in case of a robbery...never show your fear. In fact, never show any emotion. Your life may be dependent on it. As far as she was concerned, this situation tied in all too well.

Still pacing back and forth, Larry couldn't figure out what to do. The situation was officially out of control, and no matter what happened, the second he walked out of those doors he was going straight to jail. Was it worth it? He no longer knew. His mission had been blown, and he had no plan B. He was filled with panic and fear, but he had no other way out. The frustration was eating him up inside. His mind was spinning out of control.

"Look Nakia, I didn't want this to go down this way. I honestly just wanted to talk to you. All I wanted was for you to hear me out. I didn't meant to hurt you, or that other lady,or..."

"What did you do to her?" Nakia asked blankly.

"Who? What?"

"Shayla. What did you to do her? Did you kill her?"

Larry realized who she was talking about. He honestly didn't know if he "killed her" or not, but he knew that her presence back into his life irked the hell out of him. Nakia never knew that Larry had a one night stand with Shayla, and Shayla never mentioned him to anyone. She tried for over a month to hook up with him, but he was too busy bouncing around from woman to woman. Eventually, she let him go...but that was before her and Nakia became close.

"I don't know." Larry became frustrated again. "The bitch interfered between us once, she wasn't about to do it again!"

Now Nakia was confused.

"What do you mean she interfered between us once?" Not knowing her emotions were beginning to show, she began to switch from survival mode to defense mode.

"What happened to her doesn't matter. What matters to me is what happens to us. That's all that ever mattered. Why can't you see that?"

Now Nakia was pacing back and forth. She couldn't pinpoint any stories or situations that would lead her into thinking Shayla was one of Larry's jump offs. Then again, her and Shayla have only been close for so long. Before they really became tight, all that connected them was their workplace, meetings, and various projects that Shayla lead. Nakia tried to brush it off and refocus on her training tactics, but by now she was becoming irritated again. Yet another woman had interfered in their relationship, and even though they weren't together it still cut her like a knife. At some point, she knew she needed to just let it go. It was over, and no matter how many different females came out of the closet she couldn't let it get to her. They were through. The past was over, and they were done. She tried to focus on that thought, but it wasn't working.

"Larry sat against the wall, twirling the gun in his hands. Nakia didn't notice what he was doing. She was too lost in her own thoughts. For twenty minutes it was as if neither one were in the room. They were in their own worlds, trying to figure out how to move on and start anew. Finally, Larry stood up and broke the silence.

"I think we need to start over."

Nakia continued to pace. She didn't hear him. She was still caught up in her own thoughts.

"Nakia, did you hear me?"

She stopped. Nakia looked into his eyes. She saw nothing. It was as if he was using her own survival tactics against her by hiding his own emotions.

"Start what over?" She asked.

"Us. We need to start over. Start everything over. From day one. Let's go back and redo it all."

Nakia thought he was crazy. There was no way she was about to go back to him, but if it would get her out alive she was willing to tell him whatever he needed to hear. Before she could respond, the lights went out. Neither one said a word. It took a couple of seconds, but their eyes readjusted after the emergency lights kicked on. There they were. Standing face to face in eerily dimmed light. Both were emotionless. Then, she said what he wanted to hear.

"Alright. We can start over. I don't know how...but we'll find a way."

Larry's stomach turned. He wasn't expecting her to agree. Maybe he should explain himself clearer, he thought, but he knew she would change her mind. They just stood there for a second. Then he reached for her and kissed her. She didn't return the kiss, but she didn't pull away either. It wasn't a long kiss, just a second or two. Then he pulled back, and he had tears in his eyes. Once again, Nakia got that sickening feeling in her stomach. He took a few steps back.

She looked into his eyes again, then she saw it. She knew what he meant by starting over. It all came to her so fast, but she couldn't react fast enough. He wasn't talking about their relationship. He wasn't talking about their life together. He was talking about life period. As Nakia tried to brace herself for the inevitable, he raised his hand and aimed it right at her chest. Nakia turned.

BANG!

...and just like that...she was down.

Without a second thought, Larry then turned the gun onto himself.

BANG!

The final bullet went straight through his cerebellum. There was complete silence inside of that safe. No movement. No moaning. Nothing. Just the cold, still air and the eerily dimmed light that illuminated over their bodies. The grey marble slowly became a crimson color. Life was seeping from them both. Larry got what he wanted...to start all over.

Moments later, SWAT busted in the bank. They kept the lights off just in case the assailant was still alive. They checked the offices, drive-thru area, behind the teller's desks, and finally...the safe. That's where the two bodies were discovered. After everyone gave an "All Clear" from other areas, they signaled the officer that cut the electricity off to switch it back on. The paramedics came in through the back. They checked both Larry and Nakia for a pulse. Only Nakia had one, and hers was very faint. Larry had no signs of life, yet he couldn't be pronounced dead until the coroner arrived. The paramedics placed Nakia on the gurney and escorted her out of the building as quickly as possible. If she was going to survive, they needed to move fast.

During her transport, Nakia flat lined two times. She was barely holding on when she arrived at the hospital. The bullet hadn't hit her heart, but did strike a major artery. It took five hours of surgery to remove the bullet and repair the artery. Nakia flat lined again during surgery. It wasn't looking good for her. She was in the ICU for several weeks. The first two weeks she was in a medically induced coma. After they weaned her from the medication, she still didn't wake up. She was still comatose, but now it was due to her injuries and not medication.

Her family, friends, and coworkers held a vigil for her a month after the shooting at the bank. By this time Shayla was recovered enough that she was able to return to work. She had stitches along her scalp, where they had to shave her hair off to surgically repair the damage done to her skull. She wears wigs to cover the scars, but nothing could cover the emotional damage he'd done to her. At that time, she thought he had came there for her. In the few seconds of their confrontation she'd found out everything about him was a lie, he had no intentions on ever being with her, and he was a very violent person. Before he knocked her out cold with the metal pole, he told her if she uttered a word to Nakia it would be the last words she'd ever spoke. She was hoping it wouldn't interfere with their friendship, but right now all she cared about was that Nakia made it through safely.

It's been two months since Nakia was shot, and six weeks since she was no longer medically comatose. There were no signs that she was going to recover. Her vital organs were beginning to shut down. Her kidneys were beginning to produce less urine. She was dependent on a feeding tube and as a result lost a lot of weight. Being that she only weighed 97 pounds to begin with, she didn't have much to spare. Worst of all, her brain was beginning to shut down. She wasn't on life support yet, but the doctors were talking to her parents about the option. They didn't know what to do. She had no living will or power of attorney so they didn't know what she'd want. They battled with the decision for a long time, but being the strong Christians they were they decided not to have their daughter become dependent on a machine. If it was her time to go then they would have to accept it. Whatever God had in store for Nakia was going to happen regardless, so after careful consideration they told her physicians that they would let nature take it's course. As a precaution, they also made her funeral arrangements.

A few days later after talking with Nakia's doctors, her parents received a phone call from the ICU department. They were instructed to come to the hospital right away, but were not told why. They knew it had something to do with Nakia. Her mother feared the worst. Usually, if a family member has passed or is on the verge of passing they will not tell you over the phone. Nakia's mother was a retired clinical director from another hospital so she knew the protocols very well. They were dressed and at the hospital in twenty minutes. They met the nurse at the station that called them.

The nurse guided them to Nakia's room quietly. Her mother stood outside of the door. Her hand was on the knob, but she was afraid to open it. All of the windows were closed. Her heart dropped. Her husband, Nakia's father, was just as shaken up. However, with his hand in hers they both pulled down the knob.

The room was silent. No heart monitor beeping. No oxygen pump filling her lungs with air. Just complete silence. Nakia was in bed, arms at her side, head turned on the pillow. They didn't know what to think. She never had machines in her room. All of her vitals were monitored from the nurse's station. Yet she looked....peaceful. They slowly moved toward her. Her mother sat in the chair next to her bed. Her father stood behind her mother. They weren't ready to accept it. Nakia was so young, so vibrant. She had a bright future ahead of her. He still had so much to do, to experience. They weren't ready to accept that Nakia's time on Earth was up.

And they didn't have to.

As her mother grabbed her hand, she rested her forehead on her arm. Tears began to flow from her eyes. Her father just stood there, fighting back tears of his own, trying to be strong for his wife. It was hard though. Nakia was his baby girl. His only girl. He'd lay down his own life for her. They were lost in their grief when the silence was broken.

"What's wrong momma?" Nakia asked, exhausted.

Her mother raised her head. More tears streamed from her eyes. Now she was crying tears of joy. Her baby girl was alright. She was up and talking. The nurse, still standing silently in the corner, began to tear up herself. She was the caregiver for Nakia since she arrived and had grown attached to her. Nakia reminded her of her own daughter that she lost two years ago to domestic violence. Their looks, body build, and seemingly personality from the stories that were shared with her were all so similar. Even the way Nakia was almost killed mirrored her own daughter's death. Her daughter's fiance' did the same thing Nakia's ex did. It was a murder-suicide that would never see justice. Nurse Alley was beyond heartbroken to hear that her only child was murdered by someone she loved. She vowed to do whatever she could to prevent that from happening to anyone else. When she was assigned Nakia as a patient she made it her personal mission to make sure she survived. Endless nights of working double shifts, coming in on off days, and just talking to her and being there paid off. Nakia was not completely well, but she was out of danger.

After her awakening, Nakia was moved to another room Nurse Alley still came to check up on her. Nakia didn't understand why, but she had grown attached to Nurse Alley. She felt comfortable with her around. It was almost like she gained a second mom. Nurse Alley felt the same way about Nakia. She was happy she survived and felt like she gained a second daughter. They vowed to keep in touch after Nakia's discharge, which is something they both kept. Nakia went through intense physical and occupational therapy. It took an additional three months, but day by day she began to regain her strength. She never returned to the bank, but the employees would visit her regularly. She was, however, able to obtain a position within their corporate office once she was released from the doctor's care.

As far as her relationship with Shayla, it grew stronger. They had a long and in-depth talk about their connection with Larry. Nakia learned things that she never knew he was doing. However, this all happened during one of their off moments, so she couldn't' hold it against Shayla. She decided that it was better to leave it in the past and keep their friendship and dismiss the bitterness. Shayla didn't know about Nakia and vise versa. So they decided to keep it moving...and to screen all guys they are interested in with each other.

It took a long time, years in fact, for Nakia to move on with her life. She had survived the wost, but it was still hard for her to forget. Her psychiatrist told her that she may never forget what happened to her. It was too traumatizing and will always remain with her. She also told her that although the memory was there that doesn't mean the power is. It's not easy, but you can take away the power if the past by giving it to the present. Don't discount what happened, but accept it. When it comes up, face it, don't suppress it. Deal with it the best way you can. Eventually, the thoughts will come less and less, and will have little to no impact on your daily life. This is exactly what Nakia did. She still thinks about it, but she doesn't let it affect her. It's been a long road, but day by day it gets better.

**Wasted Time**

_In the end, it never seems worth it. The stress of getting to work on time. The worry of someone wearing your same dress at the corporate office party. The juggling of several lies that you almost lose track of just to appease people and make yourself look better than what 'you' think you are. Nope...it's not worth it. Those that really care about you don't care how many rooms or acres your home has; what year, make and model your car is. They don't care about your salary or your designer shoes. All they care about is you. Everyone else only wants to bring you down anyway. It took me a long time to see this. Thirty-four years to be exact. It's amazing how we learn the most important lessons in life. How we take every day that's given to us for granted. Well, I know better now. My lesson was learned the hard way. I can remember it like yesterday...._

"Shantelle!" My boss was always up in my ass for something.

"Yes, Mrs. Reebley."

"I need you to take over for these projects. Their progress reports are all due in two weeks."

She slammed a stack of manila folders onto my desk. My eyes roll to the back of my head, unbeknown to me. I was so busy cursing her out in my head that I didn't realize my facial expressions were mirroring my thoughts.

"Is there a problem, Shantelle?"

"No. I just have a slight headache, that's all."

"Oh really?" She said, condescendingly. "Well I can always give this stack...and the Lead Project Manager position...to someone else."

A piercing scream began to wail up in my throat. Instead of letting it out I suppressed it...for the thousandth time.

"No need to do that. I'll take them home with me tonight. The progress reports will be ready by the next project meeting." I forced a smile, even though I was beaming with anger inside.

"Good. I knew I could count on you."

Yeah, right! I thought to myself as she walked away from my desk. I didn't understand it. Granted I'm the only Project Analyst with a Master's Degree in Project Management, but does that give them the right to hold shit over my head? If it weren't for my seniority to this company I'd have jumped ship a long time ago. I've got a decade under my belt though, and project management jobs are scarce in this economy. So I'm stuck for now at least. I'm working on my own plans for business ownership. My consulting company should be up and running within the next two years. I'm just getting all of my ducks in a row. Until then, I have to deal with this bull. I must say though, it's better than nothing.

On my way home I stopped at the grocery store near my complex. I'll be up half the night just briefing myself on these projects. Some of them I knew about. The others were brand new to me. Gary gave me a heads up on the three hardest ones that seem to be dangerously close to going over budget, yet nowhere near being completed. I must admit, those are the projects that I really love because they offer the most challenge. I say that now...we'll see if my answer is the same at three in the morning.

I got my Folgers, a box of chocolate glazed Little Debbie cakes, and some Excedrin. I knew this would produce one hell of a headache. By seven I'm home, lugging my briefcase, purse, laptop bag, groceries, and backpack up the four flights of stairs I have to take because our landlord is too damn cheap to fix the elevator that's been broken for three months, which I don't understand, seeing as I pay a good grand a month for my studio.

On the second floor I spotted Mark coming down the steps. I almost lost my composure when he came around the corner. Mark was something else I tell you! Tall, creamy caramel skin, short, curly hair, sharp goatee, and had a body to die for. I bet he was getting pussy on the daily without any effort. I knew he had mine leaking for attention. Normally, I'd flirt with him and he'd flirt back, but right now my focus was solely on getting this hunk of mess in my arms up to my studio.

"Shantelle? Is that you?"

I moaned a yes, trying to catch a bag from falling with my teeth. He quickly ran over and caught it for me. I could smell his freshly showered body and a hint of Jean Paul Gautier. That made me even wetter. _Down girl_ , I thought as he took most of the bags from me, leaving me with only my purse. We walked up to my studio and be brought my things in for me. I don't even remember the conversation now that I think back on it. I was so lost in his beautiful jet black eyes that I was hypnotized. I guess he sensed it too, because his smile broke my daze.

"What are you laughing at?" I said to him teasingly.

"It's rare that I see such a beautiful woman in a daze over little ol' me."

"Shut up!" I said, playfully hitting his arm.

We talked for a few moments more then he left to attend to his business. I slipped my new Louboutins that I'd been drooling over for two weeks off and placed them neatly back in their box. I'm a shoe-aholic. I readily admit it. It's part of the reason why I work so damn hard. I don't have any kids, I lost my one and only during my first trimester. That was hard for me, but it was also a blessing in disguise. Not long after that I found out the father was cheating on me with some mud duck looking female. That was three years ago. He's now working on child number 5 with babymomma number 5. So glad I didn't get caught up in that! Aside from the standard bills and student loans my money belongs to me. I make a fairly good amount considering my position and seniority within the company, so I tend to spoil myself. Partly because I just love looking good, and partly because I want others to know I look good and take care of myself. I never had much as a child...I was making up for lost time.

The night took its toll on me. I was up until nearly four in the morning going over my new assignments. This is what my nights would consist of for the next two weeks. It's a shame too. Mark asked me out on a date and I had to turn him down. He is so sweet and such a gentleman, and he looks like he could be hung like a rock. I've fantasized about him more times than I've actually had sex...and I get mine, so that should tell you something. I just don't have time to focus on him right now. Too much is going on and I want to make sure these projects turn out perfect. That will be my shoe in for the Lead Project Manager position. I know he's disappointed, but we can link up some other time.

My best friend Trisha had been calling me all week. She bought three tickets to go see the Old School/New School concert that following weekend. Trisha, Denise and I have been thick as thieves since the third grade. We've had our ups and downs, but we've never betrayed each other. We had a true bond and considered each other sisters. They were there for me when I lost my baby, and I was there for them when they had their trials. Once again, I had to focus on getting these projects together. I wanted...needed...had to have that extra 17 stacks a year. It was well worth the hustle and bustle. We've chilled at my place a few times during this madness, but going out to party was out of the question for now. They tried to convince me and tell me not to put off having fun. I wasn't listening.

The real drama started four days before the projects were due. The scheduled meeting was set for Monday. That meant I had tomorrow and all weekend to go over notes, budgets, charts and such to make sure everything was in order. I even found loopholes to cut the three over budgeted projects by almost 1/3. I was excited! Stoked even! This would surely prove to them that I deserved that position. If it didn't, damn seniority; I'm looking for another job. I always heard Atlanta was nice. Why not start anew? For now, they're safe, but someone better appreciate this hard work.

"Shantelle, we have a problem." Mrs. Reebley casually walked up to my desk. What kind of problem could their possibly be with her acting so calm? "There's been a change in the project meeting schedule. Mr. Warrington wants to see the progress tomorrow." So it's not really _we_ that has the problem...it's _me_.

"Tomorrow? Why tomorrow? I mean, they're done, but..."

"Then you have nothing to worry about." She cut me off like I shouldn't have a care in the world.

"Yes I do! They may be done, but that doesn't mean they're in presentation form. So you expect me to get together 12 PowerPoint presentations by tomorrow?"

"Of course not." I gave a sigh of relief. "Mr. Warrington does." Damn! Too soon.

She walked away like she didn't just hand me the biggest load of stress ever. My head was hurting again. That's been a daily presence since I took over these projects. My chest was beginning to feel tight, my vision was blurry...I felt like I was going to be sick. _Pull yourself together Sha! You got this!_ I took a couple of deep breaths and laid out my plan. I'd have to leave the office early today if I'm going to have everything ready. It was almost lunch time anyway. I'd sign out early for the day, head straight home, and burn the midnight oil until each and every project was completed.

On the way home I got a call from Denise. She wanted to know if I could meet her for lunch. I've never heard her get so excited over lunch. She wanted me to meet her and Trisha at McMillan's Steak House on 3rd. I swore she said something about an announcement, but when Denise gets excited it's hard to decipher what she's saying through her high pitched squeals. I told her I couldn't meet with her right that second, but I'd do my damnedest to meet up with her during the weekend. I heard instant disappointment in her voice, but once I explained my dilemma she understood. I was ordered to meet her on Saturday come hell or high water. I guess I have to go. I like my front door...I don't want her to break it down.

By five, I had three presentations completed. If I moved at this rate all night, I wasn't going to get any sleep. Mark stopped by around six to see if I had dinner yet. I told him I was too busy to eat, and he insisted I take a half hour break. I never agreed, but that didn't sway him from ordering us Chinese takeout (my favorite; he's so observant) from around the corner. I kept working and he kept talking until our food arrived. He paid for it and set up my dining room table. By now I had my fourth presentation completed and was starting on number five.

"...and this is when you break". He said jokingly.

"Mark, it's really sweet of you to worry about me, but I'm fine really. I just have a lot of work to do."

"That's the problem Shantelle. You're doing too much." I knew I was in for it now. "For the past week and a half you've been holed up in here working. Now I know we live in a nice building...aside from the busted up elevator...but come on! It's not THAT nice!"

He had a point...and made me smile with it, too.

"I know, but you don't understand Mark. I have to get this done to prove that I deserve the Lead Project Manager promotion."

"What good is a promotion if you're in a nuthouse for being couped up too long or stressing out too much? I know you're a hard worker, that's one of the things I admire about you, but this level of dedication is ridiculous. You need to veg out for a minute. This thing is taking over you. You're killing yourself Sha!"

"Thanks for the memo, Captain Obvious!" Even while rolling my eyes at him I couldn't help but laugh. We never could be serious for more than five minutes without one of us cracking a smile. We really were meant to be together...just not right now.

"Shut up! I'm just looking out for you. You know that, right?"

There I go again; staring into those deep, jet black eyes. He's right. There's so much to life than being a Lead Project Manager. Life's not all about money, success, clothes, cars, or status. It's about laughter, kindness, and love...all the things that I feel when I'm hanging with my girls...or when I'm with Mark. For once, someone got through to me. Do you know how hard it is to convince anything to a Taurus? This man more than cares for me, he loves me. I can tell; he doesn't even have to say it. I know he does, because he wouldn't lecture me if he didn't. I feel the same way about him. Once this is all over, I'm changing some things in my life. How I work, how I play, and how I hinder myself from what I truly deserve. I can have all the designer shoes in the world, but nothing...NOTHING...compares to this man.

"You're right. Thanks Mark."

"Any time sweetie."

For the next three hours we relaxed. We talked and watched some crazy reality shows. I didn't realize that television went downhill like that. Who scouts for love in front of millions of viewers? I was cracking up. Around ten, I had to let Mark go. He offered to stay, but I told him I needed to crack down on the rest of the presentations before sunrise.

"Remember what I said Sha. This is important, I won't front like it isn't, but it's not all that life has to offer." I could tell by his eyes that he was referring to he and I. Little did he know I was already plotting to see what all he had to offer.

"I will."

He lifted my chin and kissed me lightly on the tip of my nose. I could feel the love and concern in that light peck. I don't know what washed over me, but when he pulled back I grabbed him by his neck. I pulled him close to me and kissed him passionately. There was a slight hesitation on his part, almost as if he was in shock. But that didn't last long. Soon he was in rhythm right along with me. It lasted for only a few seconds, but felt like an eternity. When we pulled apart, nothing else needed to be said. He would leave me to complete my task, and tomorrow we'd start anew. We embraced one more time before he took off to his place.

Once I shut that door I got a sudden burst of energy. I picked up where I left off and knocked out five presentations within an hour. I was on cloud nine. In fact, I could go so far as to say those five were better than the first four. Nine down, three to go. It was just after midnight when my energy suddenly left me. My headache returned even more massive than before. I couldn't quit now. I was on a roll. I popped two Excedrin and kept on going.

By one thirty, I put the finishing touches on the last presentation. I spent an additional 20 minutes emailing attachments to everyone so they'd have them first thing in the morning. Two AM rolls around and I'm flat out tired, but I had the biggest grin on my face. Not because I finished the projects. I couldn't stop thinking about Mark. His mentality and wit was one thing; his lips and his touch were another. He was the total package. I couldn't keep it in any longer. I had to let him know how I felt. I spent another thirty minutes feeling Aaliyah-esque and wrote him a four page letter expressing every feeling I've ever felt for him. I crept through the halls in the middle of the night and slid it under his door. I was beginning to feel dizzy again, and barely made it back to my place. I was feeling weird...too weird. I wasn't sure if it would help or hurt, but I went to get some Advil to ease the feeling I was having. I was knocked back down by the massive headache that never went away. Damn Excedrin. Headache medicine my ass.

I couldn't see or recognize anything in the living room. I could barely move. I felt like I was being held hostage by my buttercream leather sofa. My already blurred vision got worse. The only thing recognizable was the photo of Mark and I at the Jazz Fest two years ago. Even back then he was special to me. Everything else faded out from my vision. All I could see was how happy and how perfect we looked together. I can't wait to see the look on his face after he reads the letter. I'm sure it'll be ten times as better than this picture. Ugh! Why won't this pain go away?! Screw the Advil...I need to sleep this off now. I didn't even bother to set my cell phone...or properly lock my door apparently. I drifted off to sleep, never to wake again.

_Like I said in the beginning, in the end it never seems worth it. You never realize what's most important to you until it's too late. I was there when Mark read the letter. I could see that gleam of hope in his eyes. It sent chills thought my soul when he said "I love this woman" and kissed the letter. He was so full of joy. I also saw the pain he felt when he discovered me on my couch. I didn't plan for our next kiss to be him giving me CPR. Ten minutes...he worked on me for ten straight minutes before the medics came. Bet the landlord will fix those elevators now, thanks to that citation. I never really knew how much Mark loved me until I came to this side._

_Poor Trisha and Denise. My girls, my aces. I should have never put them on the back burner. I missed it all. A hot concert, a once-in-a-lifetime after party...and the announcement of Denise's wedding. I was due to be the other maid of honor. And that precious baby of hers. She's a perfect blend of her mother and father. I know...I play with her every day. She'll be going to them soon. I gave her some insight on her momma and Godmother Trisha. I can't wait until she gets older. They'll definitely know I'm with them always._

_I lost my entire life at 34. I was so young, so vibrant, and so full of stress. That massive heart attack did me in. Apparently, that's what they other two headache and dizzy spells were also. Three heart attacks within two weeks. All for a stupid promotion that never would've went to me anyway. Damn that Gary. I thought he was helping me out with his tips. Turned out that conniving SOB was the one that caused the over budgeting mistake. He even told Mr. Warrington he was the one that helped me put them back in budget. It's not like I could defend myself or my actions. I did all the work and lost my life, and he took all the credit and gained my position. It's okay though...I'll see him in a few months._

_This was my life...and it caused my death. I did all of that stressing just to add more stress to it. And more...and more...and more. I neglected my friends, disregarded my one true love, and overexerted myself. In life, I saw everyone and everything else as competition, and competition was my enemy. In the afterlife, I realized that I was my only competition...and my only true enemy. I can't take it back now. I feel bad for the ones I left behind, especially Mark. He was right. Life was so much more than what I made it out to be. So much more than what I got. So much more that I wish I could get back._

_Never waste a precious moment. Give life your all, but balance it out. Nothing is worth cutting it short. Don't become a victim of wasted time._

###

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