Page 55 of Invisible Bars
The nigga stiffened. His hands twitched at his sides like he didn’t know whether to raise them or hide them.
“But let’s get something straight,” I continued, stepping in until our noses nearly touched. “You didn’t see me here today. You didn’t hear shit. You didn’t speak to me. In fact, you don’t evenknowme, nigga… not as ImanioorGatez. So go ahead and erase both of those names and images from yo’ skull, like you never heard of either. If I catch you whispering the wrong shit into anybody’s ears… or evenfeelyour curiosity creeping too close… your mouth will be the last thing your body sees before it kisses the concrete. You feel me?”
His jaw clenched, then unhinged like it wanted to say something, but couldn’t form the words. His eyes then darted around—possibly looking for witnesses, an escape, maybe even God.
He gave me a quick nod—too fast, too nervous.
“Good,” I said, giving his shoulder a pat… then a firm, pointed grip that lasted just long enough to remind him who he was dealing with. “Now disappear.”
The nigga backed up too fast, stumbling over his own damn foot like his legs forgot how to work. One hand slammed against the wall to steady himself. He didn’t even bother lookingback. Just bolted—quick steps, fumbling steps—like the ground beneath him was too hot to stay on.
And I stood there, still as death, watching him scramble like a roach when the lights came on.
Let ‘em wonder who turned the switch.
I stood there a moment longer, watching the street. Then I turned, unlocked the door using Blu’s key that was on him when I killed him, and disappeared inside.
The place still reeked of bleach and Pine-Sol—strong enough to sting my nostrils and stir a faint headache. Chi and I did a damn good job trying to erase what happened there. But even the sharpest chemicals couldn’t scrub away energy. Wanting to be in and out, I didn’t linger. I moved with purpose, heading up the narrow staircase two steps at a time until I reached Naji’s old room.
The moment I opened the door, something shifted.
It was simple, quiet and still carrying traces of her.
My eyes landed on a teddy bear sitting neatly on the bed. It was a bit worn but clearly loved. I reached for it, fully intending to grab and go. But something made me pause.
Curiosity? Maybe. Or something deeper I didn’t feel like naming.
The truth was, I didn’t want to just protect Naji; I wanted toknowher, even the parts that didn’t want to be known.
I took a seat on the bed and then pressed the button. A soft, melodic voice poured out:
Nija,
If you’re listening to this, it means life is doing what it does best—being loud, heavy, and unpredictable. And that’s okay, baby. That’s why I made this for you.
After the recording ended, I sat there for a minute—just still. I stared down at the stuffed bear in my lap, feeling like themessage had explained the entire universe in sixty seconds. Like maybe it wasn’t even meant for Naji, but for me too.
It didn’t take long to find her phone—it was sitting right there on the nightstand, screen face-down like it was waiting for me.
Temptation tugged at me. I could’ve gone through it to see who she texted the most, snooped through her pictures, maybe even found something that gave me more of her than she was ready to give, but I didn’t. I wasn’t trying to violate her in that way… not more than I already had.
I slipped it into my pocket and turned to leave, but something else caught my eye—a large black portfolio, tucked halfway under the bed like she’d pushed it there in a hurry. Curious, I crouched down and pulled it out. It was a bit worn at the edges, well-used—one of those zip-up styles with a busted seam and a thin layer of dust.
I unzipped it.
Inside were modeling photos. Some professional—soft lighting, high angles, real camera work. Others were more raw, like she'd set them up herself—floor shots, mirror angles, outdoor edits with natural sunlight kissing her skin. And then there were the black-and-white ones.
Minimal makeup. Natural hair. No filter. Just… her.
Naji’s eyes were striking in every shot. Even when she wasn’t smiling, they said more than her lips ever could.
“Damn,” I breathed. “She’s beautiful.”
It slipped out before I could stop it.
I glanced around the room as if someone might’ve heard me, even though I knew I was alone.
Damn, I knew she was gorgeous without being dolled up, but the pictures I saw online and on her wall were nothing compared to the photos staring back at me right then. Seeing Naji in her element was a sight to see.
