Page 54 of Wasn't Supposed To Be Yours
“Ms. Henry, what’s going on? Tell me what’s going on, so that I can help you,” it was the manager, Julia. I’ve known Julia since I’ve been living here.
“I came to get Bagel, and they’re saying he’s not here. They said that I had someone come to pick him up about fifteen minutes ago, and I didn’t. Ya’ll better tell me something before I lose my mind,” I was calm talking to her, but my entire body was shaking, and I could feel myself about to spiral.
“They came in, and they were on the phone. I… I… I heard your voice on the phone. I swear. I heard your voice on the phone, saying that Bagel could go with him. I promise. It was a black guy. He came, saying that you told him to come pick Bagel up, and then he put the call on speaker, so that I could hear your voice. I promise I heard you,” that’s what Brittany said.
“I’ve been home, cleaning! I was never on the phone with anyone about Bagel. Do ya’ll have cameras? Can you show me something? I need to know who came to pick up my damn dog!” I was irate by this point.
Julia had me come around the desk, and we walked to the back. Brittany came with her, and we went inside of a back room, where there were a few different tv’s, all showing different angles of the pet care center.
Julia’s fingers ran across the mouse, rewinding to the time that Britanny said Bagel was picked up. She eventually stoppedthe video, and a very handsome man walked inside. I didn’t know who he was though. He walked in, phone glued to his ear, and Brittany was the one to greet him. I almost lost my balance and fell when I heard this man open his mouth and ask for my fuckin dog. He took the phone from his ear and placed the call on speaker.
“Hey, it’s Dionne. I’m not home right now, so I’m sending my friend Jason to pick up Bagel for me,” a voice that sounded just like mine said on the phone’s speaker.
“I don’t know what kind of sick shit is going on, but that’s not me on that phone. I was home. I can pull up the footage at my house to prove to you that I was home. I don’t even know this man. I have no idea what kind of sick shit is being played, but we need to find my fuckin dog. Call the cops, so that we can find my damn dog,” I screamed, and they started running around, so that they could get a phone in their hands and call the cops.
In the meantime, I left out, and I ran outside of the building, just to try my luck, and see if my baby was out here somewhere. Like a mad woman, I ran all over the sidewalks, screaming out Bagel’ name. I was heartbroken as I was running because something in my gut told me that this wasn’t going to end well. I could feel that something wasn’t right. For someone to go through all this trouble, coming to a place where I fuckin lived, play an audio that sounded just like me on the phone, take my damn dog, that let me know that this wasn’t going to be something easy to get my dog back. Too much time was invested for them to easily give him back.
I made it back inside the building, and I headed back for the pet care service. By the time I got back, the cops were there, and I was telling them everything. I let him know everything about Bagel that I possibly could, my words all over the place because I was distraught.
Brittany had the nerve to be fuckin crying, and she kept telling me how sorry she was, and that she didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t respond to her because I was liable to beat her fuckin ass.
As I was pacing the room that we were standing in with the cops, so that they could see the footage, my phone buzzed with a text message in my hand. A number that wasn’t saved to my phone had texted me. Originally, I wasn’t going to pay it any mind, but I saw that an image was texted over to me.
When I got a glimpse of what was sent, I let out a scream that came from the depths of my soul, and I dropped down to my knees.
“Nooooo… Nooooo… God noooo,” I cried, the phone dropping out of my hand.
One of the cops picked my phone up, and they looked at it, and when they saw the same thing that I did, I watched them put a hand over their mouth, and they looked over at me with sympathetic eyes.
Someone had killed my fuckin dog. Not only did they kill him, but they sent a picture to show me the proof. My body couldn’t handle that kind of pain, so I fell over, and I lost it. I completely fuckin lost it.
Chapter 16
Freedom Price
The Aftermath
Ithink the last time I heard my sister cry this hard was a few years back when we lost our little sister, Nivea. The cries that Dionne had been letting out all day were gut wrenching, to the point that I even shed a few tears with her. Everyone knew how much Dionne loved Bagel. She treated that dog like her fuckin child. She was sick in the head over Bagel, and as much shit as we used to talk about her, telling her that she did too much with him, it was always from a place of love, and jokes. I thought that the way she loved and took care of Bagel was beautiful. Me, and Tommie weren’t big fans of dogs, but Dionne has always loved animals. Tommie was afraid of dogs, and whenever we would come over to Dionne’s place in the past, Tommie would call her beforehand, trying to convince her to put Bagel up, but Dionne wouldn’t do it because she wasn’t the kind of dog mom to put her dog in a cage, or to lock him up in a room.
We were all at Dionne’s condo right now, just being here for her. I was sitting on the couch, and Dionne was laying on her side, and she had her head in my lap, and she was having a moment, crying. Blake was here too, who was on the other end of the couch, with Dionne’s feet in her lap. Tommie was here, but she was outside on the balcony. She stepped away fora second because her daughter Tru, called her. Our mom was in the kitchen, and she was cooking something. Something that everyone but Dionne would eat because this girl wouldn’t eat anything.
I took my eyes off the TV screen, so that I could look down at my sister. She was wearing a cream, cotton material sweatsuit. The hoodie was over her head, so you couldn’t see her face as she was crying. Her arm was in my lap, with her head buried into it, covering her face. You could hear her as she was crying, feel her body as it was shaking, and it made me so sad because I knew that there wasn’t anything that I could do to make her feel better. Some sicko had taken her fuckin dog, killed him, and then sent her proof. That was traumatic as hell. The police opened a case, so that they could find out who the dude was that had come and taken her dog, but so far, no one knew who he was. It’s only been one day, but I pray for my sisters peace of mind that we were able to find out who did this.
My phone buzzed on the arm of the couch, and I picked it up, seeing that it was my husband calling. I answered, putting the phone to my ear. With my other hand, I placed it on my sisters back, rubbing it up, and down, keeping her calm.
“Hey bae,” I answered for June.
You could hear how drained my voice sounded. It was nearing five in the evening, and I’ve been here with my sister since eight this morning. I’ve watched her go through every feeling imaginable today. At one point, she got so angry that she started breaking shit. She got upset with Tommie, so the two of them started arguing, and damn near started fighting. Dionne showed her ass today, but she was spiraling, and heartbroken, so I wasn’t going to judge her for how she was reacting.
“Bae, Tank on the phone. We on three-way,” June’s deep voice came through, letting me know.
“Free, what’s good? I had to reach out to you because I been calling Dionne, but her phone still going straight to voicemail. I’m on my way over there. The shit that I had to handle at the shop took longer, and I feel bad as hell about it. What she doing? Did she eat anything yet?” Tank asked, firing off question after question, and you could hear the worry all in his voice.
Tank has been here for Dionne since this happened yesterday, but he left out today around noon, needing to handle stuff at his shops. When all of this went down yesterday, Dionne called him first, and Tank was able to reach out to us from Dionne’s phone, telling us what happened. My sister wasn’t the easiest to deal with when she was going through something. She was good at pushing people away, and shutting down, but you could tell that Tank wasn’t fazed by any of that shit because here he was, heading back over here, about to get some more of it.
“She still crying, and no, she won’t eat. My mom is in the kitchen, almost finished cooking, but she not going to eat it. I know she’s not,” I let him know.
“Give the phone to her. Let me talk to her,” he said.
