Page 1 of Hooked on Loving Him

“How does this work?I’m not the laying down type unless I’ve busted a nut and need to get some sleep afterward.”

“With this being our first visit, how about we start with the basics.”

“Basic for some is complex for someone else, so be more specific. What do you want to know?”

“I know from my appointment book that your name is Kayshon. However, it's all I know, so why don’t you share what you’re comfortable unpacking during this initial encounter between us?”

I wonder if this woman is as capable of handling my shit as Kyce claims she is.

“Okay, how about we start with what made you schedule this appointment?”

“Let’s start with your credentials instead.”

Hell, if I’m laying myself bare, I need to know this woman can handle what I’m about to drop in her lap.

Shifting on the lounger, I stare into the brown orbs of the woman my brother has spoken highly of. Her sister locks are neatly and freshly done. Her warm brown skin is blemish-free. Her brown orbs shine with merriment and a tinge of caution while observing me. The black blazer and matching pants are paired with a purple blouse, giving her a professional outlook I appreciate. The bling on her finger lets me know that she won’t be another woman who preys on the men she encounters, which slightly puts me at ease.

“I’m Dr. Letitia Baxter. I’m an award-winning licensed professional counselor with years of experience. Whatever you share with me will never be uttered to a single soul. Not even my husband will know the ins and outs of the things you share with me. This is a safe place, so feel free to tell me anything… everything that burdens you.”

I sigh once the doctor finishes her spiel as the weight of my life settles within me like a heavy boulder. Unpacking my life won’t be easy, but after the nightmare I had last night, I know it’s time to get this shit off me.

“I killed my mom.” The words tumble from my mouth without preamble as my eyes instantly mist at the thought of my beautiful mother.

Looking at Dr. Baxter, I note her eyes bulging as her lips twist, and her left hand begins writing on the notepad in her lap. Heat and tingling in my face have me ready to get up and run out of here, but I forge ahead. Only this time, I stare at the carpet beside Dr. Baxter’s chair so I don’t have to deal with whatever thoughts she might be thinking.

“While I didn’t pull the trigger, it was my fault that she died. What’s crazy is I should have been used to Dad’s rants and shit because he was always griping about something. The nigga had a temper out of this world and always gave Mom and me shit. If the sky was cloudy, the nigga bitched. If Mom didn’t have dinner done, despite working like him, he bitched. If I left my shoes on the shoe rack by the front door, he bitched. I’m not sure if he was ever happy, but that day, I had a funny feeling that I ignored when I went to sleep.”

A lump forms in my throat, forcing me to stop talking and blink excessively to keep the moisture in my orbs from slipping from the corners of my eyes. Heaviness enters my extremities as my body temperature increases from the memory slamming into my psyche.

“Do you need a minute, Mr. Patton?”

Dr. Baxter's professional yet compassionate tone causes a low chuckle to leave my lips, allowing me to recover momentarily.

“Nah, I don’t. I also need you to call me Kayshon. Hell, I just told you that I killed my momma, and that’s not the worst thing you’re gonna hear from me. You’re about to be my homie, Dr. Baxter. There ain’t no need for pleasantries,” I say with a weak smile.

“All right. Does Dr. Baxter work for me to be your homie, or do you need something less formal to call me? I’m good with Letitia if you are.” A pleasant smile brightens her face as she crosses her legs, peering intently at me.

“Bet. Letitia definitely works for me.”

“All right. Let’s unpack what you’ve shared. Why do you think you killed your mother, Kayshon?”

Leaning back against the lounger, I gap my legs and close my eyes momentarily as Mom’s bloody body slams into my psyche, causing tears to break the wall I’m attempting to hide behind.My lips begin moving of their own volition as I start recounting the events that led to my life taking a nosedive.

“I’m so sick of your shit, Lance. Ev?—”

“Man, fuck you, Camille. You sick of my?—”

“Dad, please. P-put the gun down.” My voice is shaky, making me sound and feel much younger than eight.

My chest is tight, and the vein in my neck pulses wildly as my eyes bounce between my parents. I’m unsure what caused this current battle between them, but my legs are shaking as I fight to hold onto my bladder. Yelling had me switching from the bathroom to the living room where mom spotted me as I looked on in horror. Seeing Dad looking like a raging bull while brandishing his gun should be a shock, yet it’s a common occurrence that I wish I could change. Dad wields his weapon like a third hand, and I hate it.

The rapid rise of his chest and the crazed look in his eyes make tonight feel different than any other time he’s gone on a rampage. The air in the room feels heavier than usual, and Mom’s posture isn’t normal as her hands lift as if she’s surrendering to an unknown intruder. Her eyes hold a glossy sheen, her beautiful mahogany face is a mask of uncertainty, and worry lines fill her forehead.

“Put the gun down, Lance. Your son is watching you act a fool right now. Put the fucking gun down, you damn dum?—”

*boom, boom*

“Noo. Mommm.” My stomach rolls, and my breath stalls at seeing Dad pull the trigger, sending two loud blasts from his gun. The blank and unapologetic expression in his eyeswill haunt me forever as I stare at Dad for a millisecond before turning toward Mom. Dad’s right shoulder lifts before returning to its usual position as I swallow the lump in my throat.

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