Page 10 of Quasim: King Inferno

The doorbell rang and I closed my bible and placed it on the coffee table before walking over toward the front door. My slippers slid across the wooden floors, as I did a slight stretch before opening the door.

A pair of light brown eyes followed by a toothless grin. “Elijah, you’re late this morning.” I raised my eyebrow, and he looked behind him.

“Mama wouldn’t wake up… I had to use the nose stuff to wake her up.” He spoke about the Narcan I had shown him how to use.

I held the door open for him and he came in, kicking his dirty sneakers off in the foyer. “She good now?”

“She was hollering at me about the kitchen, but I’m hungry. Her boyfriend punched me in the chest, but it didn’t even hurt, Sim,” He shrugged it off like it was nothing, which hurt my heart.

Elijah was nine years old, and had seen more shit than he should have. He and his mother have lived across the street from me since he was seven. Thea was a single mother working full-time and fucking with the wrong men. A few times, I had to come over there when a boyfriend she was so in love with had put his hands on her.

She always thanked me and promised that she was done, but she was never truly done. It wasn’t my business, so I stayed out of her shit. When she got with her current boyfriend, I realized the car was repossessed, and she was no longer leaving the house to head to work. Child protective services had been there a few times because Elijah had missed school.

Instead of her leaving, a black BMW pulled into her driveway. I always happened to peep homie on my way out and he nodded his head before heading into her house.

I never acknowledged him.

Stared right in his face each time as he went into the house, obviously having a key, because Thea gave him one. The more she kept that nigga around, the more neglected Elijah became. He didn’t have a haircut, clothes were two sizes too small, and he got teased because he smelled.

I didn’t live in the best neighborhood, and I like it that way. I bought my house with cash.

My cash.

I could afford to buy a big ass modern house like Blaze, but this home was my comfort. This was the home I brought my baby girl home to. Me and Cherie were so fucking young and excited when we moved in.

Shit was ours and nobody could take credit for nothing. Like with everything, the longer you’ve been somewhere, the more changes you’re bound to see, and that was what happened with the neighborhood. All the older people died, and their children sold their property to some developer that promised to turn the neighborhood around.

This neighborhood was supposed to have been turned around two years ago and it only kept getting worse. They couldn’t turn it around because I was the nigga that was here, and owned three houses on this block, including the house that Elijah lived in.

Every month, Thea found a way to pay the rent, and when she was late, I never hounded her. If she stayed on the block, I was able to watch Elijah and look out for him because his mother never cared.

“My bible still in the guest room?” Elijah ran toward the guest room, and I caught a whiff of him and sighed.

Since I started taking care of Elijah, I had bought him a bible of his own. His mother gave him a biblical name and the boy didn’t even know what his name meant and how powerful it was. Every morning, he came over here to read his bible before taking a shower and getting a warm breakfast before catching the school bus.

“Yo, Eli…” I allowed my voice to trail, and he looked at me, knowing what I was about to ask.

His head looked down and I walked over and lifted his head. “What I told you about looking down?”

“Gods never look down, they look upon,” he recited.

“You wet the bed again?”

“Yes, Sim.”

I kneeled down. “You straight… don’t gotta be ashamed around me. Go take a shower and then pick some clothes out for school. I’ll get started on breakfast while you read your bible.”

Elijah slowly nodded his head as a tear fell down his cheek and I swiped it away. “Thank you, Sim… I want to stop.”

The environment he lived in contributed to him wetting the bed. At any time of the night, I could look out my bedroom and see multiple cars in the driveway and the music bumping. Nobody ever called the police because that wasn’t shit you did around this way.

“Homie punched you in the chest?”

“Yeah… said I ate all the food from last night… my stomach was hurting.” He was apologizing and it made me upset.

Pissed me off that he was sorry for fueling his body, having food that was meant for him. “I got you on some breakfast and lunch today. Go shower and I’ll be back.”

I stood back up and Elijah hugged me tightly and I rubbed his soft curls. He went down the hall to shower, a routine that we both had settled into.

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