Page 273 of Invisible Bars
“So tell me… what thehellare you doing here? And who thefuckare these people?”
“I—Imanio, baby, listen. They’re professionals… psychiatric professionals. This is just an informal evaluation?—”
“Once again,you went and did some shit without my consent. Onlythistime, you brought these muthafuckas tomycrib knowingdamnwell I don’t like visitors… not evenyo’ ass.”
That silence hit the room like a bomb.
His tone was hollow. That was signatureGatez’svoice; the one that meantrun.
Giselle straightened her shoulders, trying to stand firm.
“Okay, I’ll act like I didn’t hear that last part. But Imanio, she needshelp!This is me stepping in before the press, or the world, further tears her further apart! Beforeyoucollapse under the weight of trying to protect something you can’t possibly understand?—”
His jaw twitched. “Say one more word about her like she’s aproblem.And apparently, you haven’t been checking social media…” He smirked coldly. “Theyloveher. Always have. Never stopped. You’ve obviously been too busy orbitterto notice.”
Dr. Freeman tried to intervene. “Sir, if I must add. We’re only here in a professional capacity?—”
Imanio turned his full glare on him. “I willprofessionallydrag yo’ ass by your clipboard and feed it to your receptionist! Now back thefuckup!”
The nurse lifted both palms in surrender and bravely said, “We just want?—”
He stepped toward her slowly, voice dropping lower. “Lady, I own buildings that bury secrets deeper than you’ve ever been paid to lie about. Step one foot closer to her, andyou’llneed a nurse of your own.”
I sat there, still on the floor, eyes wide, breath caught, heart thudding. My tics had slowed to almost nothing; just a small tremor in my fingers, like my body knew I was safe now.
“Imanio, this is extreme!” Giselle shrilled.
“No, Giselle...you are!You think you can just walk into my damn house, judge my wife, and try tokidnapher with a clipboard and some sorry-ass ‘evaluation’ from muthafuckasyou paid? You think you can play with her mind, and I’ll just stand here smiling?!”
“She’s unstable!” Giselle barked, her voice sharp with fake concern.
“She hasfuckingTourette’s,Giselle; not a damn demon possession!” Imanio fired back.
He jabbed a finger toward the doctor and nurse.
“Did you even tell them what she has? Or did you just spin it like she’s losing her mind, so you could finally control something again?”
Giselle faltered. “I… I was worried?—”
“Worried?” he snarled. “Worried is calling me and asking how she’s doing. This? This is a setup… a damn trap. You didn’t bring help; you brought strangers to cage my wife like she’s rabidbecauseyou’reuncomfortable with something you don’t even have the mental range to understand!”
His voice cracked at the end, roughened—not from emotion, but from the sickness burning at the edges of him. Even under the heat of anger, I could hear it, the rasp of a man fighting his body while still forcing it to obey.
He took another step.
“Yeah she twitches, blinks a lot, and says the craziest shit! So the fuck what?! Naji shows up in this world unfiltered andstillfull of love! Meanwhile, you hide behind expensive clothes and fake smiles—rotten to your core.”
Giselle’s eyes watered.
“And you want to talk aboutunstable?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You really want to go there? Giselle, you emotionally abused me foryearsin the name of image. So don’t youdareproject that shit onto my wife!”
He turned his glare to the doctor and nurse, eyes blazing.
“And y’all just showed up with a clipboard and a smile, ready to lock up a woman you don’t even know? Show up again without a warrant, and I promise the only evaluation happening will be your careers—at a damn funeral home. Y’all gotten secondsto get off my property before I ruin every license, every reputation,and drain every last penny connected to this little setup.”
Dr. Freeman cleared his throat, gave Nurse Lee a silent nod, and they both turned to leave—visibly shaken and silently praying.
Once they were gone, Imanio diverted his attention back to the woman who gave him life—then spent the rest of it making him feel like a blemish on hers. Giselle loved the image of him, not the man behind it. And then had the audacity to stand in our house with strangers and fake concern and pretend it was ‘love’ that brought her there.
