Page 27 of Down With the King of the South (Down With the King of the South 1)

“We tried. It had gotten too difficult for him to breathe. He had a severe asthma attack, which progressed and sent him into cardiac arrest both on the ambulance and once he made it to the back, and—”

“What the fuck do you mean you tried? Where’s my son? Where the fuck is my son?” I yelled and lunged for the doctor, but Miami swept me up so that I wouldn’t hit him.

“Noooo! Put me down. Toddrick, put me down! Where’s my son? Where’s my babyyyy? Where’s my baby?” I was screaming and crying to the top of my lungs.

The doctor came over, and his eyes were watery. It was obvious that he didn’t find any pleasure in having to be the one to come down here and tell this to us, especially to have to tell it to me.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Giovonte didn’t make it—”

“Noooo… Noooo,” I screamed, trying to break loose from Miami’s arms, but he wouldn’t let me.

“Stopppp. Todrrickkkkk, let me go. Let me goooo,” I cried.

Everyone was crying at this point. I even looked up in Miami’s eyes, and his face was drenched with tears. The doctor said what he had to say, and he left. I fell to the floor with Miami, and I lost it. I screamed for my son. I screamed for me because I had just become a mom who had lost her baby. I saw stuff like this all the time on the news where parents lost their kids to gun violence, natural causes, or whatever else, and I said that I don’t know what the hell I would do if I were to lose my baby. Look at me. My baby boy was gone. A month before his eighteenth birthday, and he was gone.

I can’t tell you how I felt. There was a pain inside me that started from the top of my head and went all the way down to the bottom of my feet. I kept questioning how this was even possible. I had just made a big breakfast for Vonte this morning because today was a big day for him. I dropped him off at school, kissed him on his cheek like I did every morning before he got out of the car, and I let him know that I loved him. Now, this.

“Shit! I’m sorry, Choc. Fuccckkkk!” Miami called out.

All the while, he hadn’t let me go. I stayed on the ground for what felt like five minutes. I hadn’t stopped crying, but I managed to push my way out of Miami’s arms, and I stopped up. My grandmother tried to walk over and console me, but I ended up pushing away from her. Before the doctor left, I heard him say the room number that Vonte was in, so I walked out in search of it.

The wateriness of my eyes was clouding my vision something serious, but I kept right on walking. I could feel eyes on me from the nurses and the other family members who were standing in the hallway. I was sure I had to look like something out of a horror movie the way I was staggering to get to my son, crying, and mumbling shit that I didn’t even know what I was saying.

I finally made it to the room that he was in, and I weakly walked over to the bed. There he was. My baby boy was lying lifeless in the middle of the bed.

“Vonteeee,” I cried, walking over to him.

Yes, the doctor had come up front and announced that my son didn’t make it, but to actually stand there and witness it with my own eyes hurt far worse than to hear it. I didn’t see his stomach heaving up and down, which proved that he was gone.

“Baby, why would you do thisss? Why would you leave me like thisss? Vonte, what the fuck am I supposed to do now? You were my life… my joy… my world… my everything, Vonte. Why are you doing thissss?” I released a cry that only a mother could make as I looked down at my son.

He wasn’t answering me. He wasn’t squeezing my hand back. All I could do at this moment was stand here and hear those words replay over and over in my head from what he’d told me a few months ago. I just don’t want my asthma to be my downfall, you know? Those were his exact words to me. His asthma had gotten better, so I never thought that this day would happen. My son loved basketball more than anything in this world, and I felt like it had cost him his life.

I was able to get myself together, only for a few seconds, and I used that moment to take a seat on the bed, but still hadn’t let go of his hand. Suddenly, I heard footsteps come inside the hospital room along with sniffling. I looked up and saw Taylor walking in. I wanted this moment alone with my son, but I didn’t even have it in me to tell her to leave. Her eyes were bloodshot red, more than likely resembling mine, and she released a heartbreaking cry as she walked over to the bed.

“I’m sorry, Vonte. I’m sooo sorry,” she kept saying over and over. She came around, and I just sensed bad energy from her.

“Taylor, if you don’t mind, I would just like to have these last few minutes with my son. Please,” I said with my voice cracking.

She nodded her head as if she understood, and before she walked out of the room, she kissed Vonte on his cheek. Lying down on the bed next to my son, I soaked up these last few moments because this would be the last time in my life that I would ever get to do this with him.

Taylor Owens

I sat in the car, and I screamed, cried, even swung my arms wildly at the steering wheel, punching it over and over.

This was all my fault. I did this to Vonte. I killed him. I didn’t think that this would happen. I was only acting on my emotions. These days, it’s was like Vonte couldn’t care less about this baby or me. Basketball was all he seemed to care about. I was going through this pregnancy on my own. He wasn’t attending doctor appointments with me, and it was as if my child and I didn’t exist. If he and I ever got on the topic of my pregnancy, he would always question whether it was too late for me to get the abortion.

Hearing the man that I loved continue to tell me to get an abortion hurt more than anything in this world. Because he had been giving me the cold shoulder these days, and all he seemed to care about was these damn basketball games, I let my hurt feelings get in the way. I was part of the student union at my school, and when it came to the basketball players, we pretty much treated them like royalty.

It was our job to gather all the players’ bags and line them up on their chairs so they could have them during game time. Everyone knew which bag belonged to Vonte because out of all the bags on the team, he was the only one to have his customized. I knew he kept his inhaler inside his bag, so I took it. It wasn’t often that he would have to use his inhaler during a game because his asthma was getting better, but if he did need it, I was being spiteful by taking it. If he couldn’t breathe his best, I knew that it would more than likely cause the coach to take him out of the game. Without the team’s starting player, I knew that they would lose the championship game.

That’s all I was trying to do since this championship was all he cared about these days. I didn’t think that the same day I decided to take his bag, he would have a severe asthma attack on the court and die. I swear that wasn’t my intention. I’m not even a hateful person like that. I loved Vonte. I thought that there would be back up inhalers that he could use if he needed one. Now, his mother was in his hospital room crying her soul out for Vonte, and I was the cause of it. All of his family members were in the family room crying, and it was all because of me.

“I didn’t think this would happpennnn. I didn?

?t think he would diee,” I continued to cry out loud.

In the middle of me crying, my phone buzzed on the seat next to me. I wiped my eyes and picked the phone up. When I saw who was calling, all I could do was suck my teeth while rolling my eyes. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I knew that if I didn’t answer, he would just pop up like he always did.

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