Page 29 of Invisible Bars
Despite everything, I wasn’t trying to be her nightmare, but damn if the night wasn’t already one.
Chapter Six
NAJI
“Okay, Naji… just g-grab what you n-need and go,” I muttered to myself while frantically packing, hands trembling so bad I could barely hold onto anything. “Medication—check. Clothes and shoes—check. C-C-C-C-harger—check. Tea—double!”
My shoulder snapped sideways, sending the charger flying from my hand for the third time. I winced, frustration bubbling just beneath my skin.
“Neeeeeeeeeeed!” The word ripped out of me, stretched thin and high like a wire about to snap.
I hated that one—it made me feel like a toddler begging for something I couldn’t name.
A tightness pulled through my jaw. Ishook it off, forcing my focus back to the bag.
I grabbed the envelope Blu gave me and, for the first time, counted the money inside.
Twenty-five thousand. That’s the amount he told Gatez he had.
My fingers trembled as I stared at it longer than I should have.
If Blu knew he owed someone… someone as dangerous as Gatez, why would he give money to me? Did he know he was going to die? Or… did he want to die, and gave me it to me to keep Gatez from getting it any of it? Then again, why would he beg for more time or even let it be known he had a portion of the money if death was what he wanted?
None of it lined up, none of it made sense, and that was probably an answer I’d never get. What made it worse was the gnawing suspicion that maybe I was never supposed to understand. Maybe Blu dragged me into his mess deliberately, leaving me holding a weight he couldn’t carry anymore. Money from a dead man wasn’t a blessing; it was bloodstained inheritance… a curse dressed in bills. And the sickest part was, I couldn’t even decide whether to keep it close or run from it as fast as I could.
I didn’t even want to think about how much blood that money might’ve been tied to. Clean or not, I folded the envelope shut and shoved it into the side pocket of my duffel.
I had no plan or destination; just a deep, clawing fear that staying there meant dying slow—or fast. Both were bad.
I picked the bag up, then suddenly froze.
A creak.
Movement.
On the stairs.
I held my breath and stared at the door like it could read my mind. My heart pounded so loud I thought it might knock against my ribs and break free.
Then…
Knock. Knock.
My body convulsed suddenly; a violent jolt tore through me before I could brace for it. My right shoulder jerked upward like it was dodging a bullet no one had fired, and my arm flung outward, fingers splaying as if trying to shake off somethinginvisible and crawling. My jaw clamped shut for half a second—then dropped open with a sharp, guttural yelp that felt like it had been yanked straight from my throat without permission.
"S-S-S-S-S-Shit," I murmured, pressing my palm against my mouth.
"Hey, uh, Glitchy? It’s Chi. We ain’t here to hurt you, aight? Just open the door."
The calm in his voice threw me off. It wasn’t soft, but not threatening, either—like he was trying to keep a squirrel from darting into traffic.
“Uh-uh,” I croaked. “J-J-Just give me a minute.”
I was already eyeing the window like it was a portal to freedom.
“Yeah… see, not really how this works,” he replied. “We’re on a tight schedule and I gotta get home to my fiancée before she changes the locks, burns my clothes, and tells Facebook I died in a tragic cheating accident.”
"Open it," Gatez ordered.
