Page 3 of Save Room for Us

I ignored him, armpits becoming damp, hands shaking, and knees readying to give out as I continued putting things into the suitcase.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” I chanted to myself as his heavy boots thudded closer to the bedroom.

“You don’t hear me fucking calling yo’ stupid ass?” he growled, bursting into the room and hitting the lights. “I?—”

He stopped speaking when he saw what I was doing.

“I’m gonna go stay with my mom,” I said, hating that my voice was trembling, but I was frightened. I could smell his cologne as he neared me, and the mere thought of one of his hits caused my eyes to mist.

“No the fuck you not.” He yanked the shirt from my hands, making me jump slightly. “You must wanna die tonight if you think you leaving.”

“You can go ahead and try, but I’m done fucking with you.” I sniffled some.

Clenching his jaw, his eyes seemed to darken, so I braced myself. Like I knew, a severe stinging graced my face as hebackhanded me so hard my lip split. He was angry as hell to hit me in the face that hard.

I charged him, but he punched me in the stomach, then backhanded me again, causing me to fall to the floor. Standing over me, he kicked me in the side hard enough to crack a rib, and I almost gave in, feeling pain simmer throughout my whole body.

“You done with who!” He roared so loudly I swear I felt the walls shake as he kicked and punched me all over.

“Fuck you, pussy!” I was able to get out, hoping I didn’t go too far.

My words made him deck me in the jaw, something he usually never did, causing me to cry out.

Discreetly, I reached under the bed, feeling for the Glock I’d placed there, and slowly gripped it.

“You stupid, dumb bitch! You about to die tonight!” He was seething, spit flying through his clenched teeth.

I said a silent prayer, took off the safety, and aimed upward. Cedric’s eyes widened just before I started to let off shot after shot after shot until I lost count. Cedric’s body danced, and his arms flailed as each bullet wounded him. Once the gun began clicking, I put it down and got up as best as I could with my injuries. Cedric was laid out, bleeding and coughing up blood.

I stared at him, watching him suffer for about ten minutes before calling 911.

I must’ve blacked out because it all happened so fast. One minute, I was speaking with the 911 operator, explaining to her that my boyfriend had attacked me, and I shot him. The next, I was being put in handcuffs and escorted to a patrol car.

The officers read me my rights before securing my wrists, leading me out, then placing me inside the car, but I heard none of it. I was afraid of what was to come, but I felt relieved seeing Cedric covered in blood and being wheeled out on astretcher, his life hanging in the balance. I’d never seen his ass incapacitated, and it brought me a sense of joy. I hoped he died before the night was over though.

I was taken down to the police station to be photographed and booked, and before they could even start asking me questions, I let them know I wanted a lawyer. Though all I had said tonight was the truth, I knew the facts: I’d set Cedric up so I could shoot him. Every part of tonight had gone according to my plan. I knew he would be fired up, seeing me pack. I knew he would fly off the handle if I verbally stated that I was leaving him. He did everything I knew he would, and at the end of the day, I goaded him right into my premeditated murder trap.

“Miss Chase, your lawyer is here.” A black female detective opened the door to the cold and dank interrogation room.

I couldn’t reply because I didn’t have a lawyer yet, I’d only requested one, but I didn’t expect one to show up so soon. All I did was call my mother and tell her what had happened, that I tried to leave Cedric, he attacked me, and I shot him about six or seven times. Seeing Bashar step into the room let me know she’d contacted him or reached out to Leeci who then contacted him.

“Give us a minute,” Bashar stated, looking well put together, as always, even though it was probably eight or nine o’clock at night. I wasn’t sure and had lost track of time the moment Cedric backhanded me.

“I don’t have this kind of money,” I let him know straight up, ashamed at how much my voice cracked upon speaking.

When I met him, I was up on my faux high horse, putting on airs like I was happy and had it all together; yet here I was in a bloodied T-shirt, tights, socks, disheveled hair, and bloodstained Crocs, in need of his help. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Bashar back then. I just didn’t want him becoming Analicia’s Cedric, especially since I once had a Jarrio. I was happy he’d proven me wrong, however.

Bashar’s cologne permeated the room as he smirked softly and sat down across from me. Every time I saw him, it made me feel happy for my sister. Bashar was the nigga every little black girl thought about when she pictured her life as a wife. He was smart, tall, handsome, dark skinned, rich, and protective. No one was more deserving of him than my baby sister.

“Let’s worry about the money later,” he said, taking in my injuries. “What happened?” He laced his fingers atop the metal table I was handcuffed to.

Sniffling, I glanced off, then regained eye contact before saying, “I was packing up, he caught me, he hit me, um, multiple times, and um, I shot him.”

Quickly, I wiped my wet eyes with my shoulder.

Bashar nodded, eyes scanning me as if he were a computer processing information.

Shockingly, a smile graced his face before he said, “You’re a very smart woman, Anastazia.”

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