Authors: Keith Thomas Walker
“That was
you
!” She shrieked. “You jumped on me!”
“Bitch, you wanted it!”
She shook her head. “No! I didn’t!
You raped me!
That’s why I’m pregnant now!”
“Bitch!” He swung quickly.
Candace had never been in a fight before, and her vision was blurred by the tears, but she saw
something
. Maybe it was in his eyes. Maybe his shoulder hitched a little. Whatever it was made her throw her hands over her face—just in the nick of time.
His punch landed on her forearm, but it was still powerful enough to send her falling backwards. Candace yelped like a child and landed hard on her butt. She kept her hands over her head in case there was more to come.
CC stepped in and stood over her with his fists balled. Candace’s heart pounded. Her brain raced. She thought she might have peed her pants.
“
Stop
!” she screamed.
“You’d better not
ever
tell nobody about that shit!” CC shouted. “
That baby ain’t got nothing to do with me!
”
Candace looked up at him through her parted fingers. He looked angrier than she had ever seen him. She trashed all of her preconceptions about the lanky thug. If he would steal from his friend and hit a pregnant girl, what else was CC capable of?
“Gimme that bag!” he bellowed. “I’m sick of playing with yo ass, bitch!”
“Get out of my house!”
Candace shouted. Actually she screamed it at the top of her lungs. And it was loud. She didn’t know she could get that much volume, but the adrenaline rush gave her the pipes of Pavarotti.
“Get out of my house!”
The ruse might not have worked in her native New York, but Texas folk are a lot friendlier and nosier. Candace heard a door open outside of her apartment. She looked past CC’s legs and saw the neighbor across from her standing in his doorway with a frightened expression.
“
Leave me alone
!” Candace shouted, this time more for her neighbor’s benefit than for her attacker.
CC looked down at her with fire in his eyes and noticed Candace was looking elsewhere. He turned to check behind him.
“What the hell you looking at?” he shouted at the stranger.
Candace’s neighbor was a sweet and docile man, but he was also huge. At six feet, three inches and two hundred and sixty pounds, he didn’t really have to be the aggressive type—so long as he looked the part.
“What are you doing?” the neighbor asked.
“I’m minding my business, nigga. Why don’t you try that shit?” CC played the tough role, but he wasn’t stupid. Assault and battery on a woman with child would have him sharing breakfast with Rilla.
“I’m calling the police if you don’t leave,” Gentle Ben said.
CC wavered in indecision for a second but finally chose a more prudent course of action. “I’m finna go,” he told the neighbor. He took a step back and Candace lowered her arms. CC stared down at her audaciously.
“This how you wanna play it, ho?”
“Just leave,” Candace said.
CC nodded. “All right. Cool. You keep the bag. I got something for you.”
With that, he turned and disappeared through the doorway. Candace got up a moment later and went to close her door. Her neighbor was still standing on the breezeway.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Thanks a lot.”
“You want me to call the police? In case he comes back?”
“He’s not coming back,” Candace said. “Thanks, though. Really. I really appreciate it.”
The man nodded, but he didn’t go back inside. Candace closed her own door and locked both of the dead bolts.
* * *
Two hours later Candace finally felt safe enough to take a shower. She made an omelet and ate it in the living room, then stretched out on the sofa watching
The Tonight Show
. Her future was uncertain, but her spirits were surprisingly high. She stood up to a monster and knew he wasn’t coming back. Even without Rilla, she felt good about her chances.
She had a car and an apartment for at least another month. She had a semester of college under her belt. She believed that if she could get a job within the next week or two, things might work out after all. It was going to be hard, but Candace believed she could do it.
The only thing that bothered her was CC’s ominous departing words.
I got something for you.
For the life or her, Candace couldn’t think of anything he could do to get her back.
She fell asleep on the couch at 1:00 a.m.
* * *
When someone pounded on her door an hour and a half later, Candace lifted her head from the cushion, and then lowered it again, poised to ignore it. She had no idea who it could be. The obvious guess was CC, but he was afraid of her neighbor. He wouldn’t bang that hard in the middle of the night.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
No way would he pound on my door like this.
That thought made Candace lift her head a second time. Whoever was at the door was really knocking
hard
. It was almost as if it was the—
“Police! Open the door!”
Candace woke up then. She sat up with a start and turned to her front door just in time to see it crash open—
literally
, the whole frame cracked. Splinters flew towards her like shrapnel.
Candace got a glimpse of a battering-ram-toting police officer, but only for a split second. His comrades rushed past him with guns drawn in every direction. They were all wearing black. Some of them had on dark masks and bulletproof vests. They spotted Candace right away. Flashlights and pistol barrels settled on her face and chest.
“Get down on the floor!”
“I’m pregnant!” she screamed.
“Get on the goddamned floor!”
I got something for you.
But he wouldn’t do
this
? Would he?
THE RAID
It was like one of those sick dreams when you know you’re asleep, yet you’re powerless to wake up, powerless to stop the parade of ignorance going on around you. For Candace it was a lot worse because she knew that she was, in fact, awake. Any doubts about this were vanquished when a man dressed like a ninja shoved the barrel of his MP5K between her eyes.
“
Let me see your hands
!”
Candace’s arms flew up like a jack-in-the-box. “
I didn’t do anything
!” she screamed.
“
Shut up
!”
Another cop swooped in from behind and grabbed the back of her neck with a big, rough hand. “
Get on the floor
!”
Candace was sitting on the couch wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. The burly officer could have shoved her face into the soft cushions, but he yanked her sideways instead, pulling her off the sofa and sending her crashing to the floor.
Candace rolled her body at the last second, taking the brunt of the impact on her hip rather than falling to her belly.
“
I’m pregnant
!” she screamed, but no one seemed to care. The guy on top of her kept a rigid claw on the back of her neck. He pressed something cold and hard on the side of her head.
“
Don’t move, lady,
” he warned.
“
I’m pregnant
!”
“
I said don’t move
!”
But Candace had no intention of moving. She was petrified; she didn’t think she could get up if she wanted to. Visions of Amadou Diallo flew past her eyes. All it took was for one guy to pull the trigger.
And Candace only thought she’d been crying before. That was nothing compared to the racket that emanated from her now. She sobbed uncontrollably. Her breaths were shallow and ragged.
From her position on the ground, Candace could only see feet, and they were running in every direction. Four, five, at least six people were in her apartment. They stomped loudly and screamed at people who weren’t even there.
“Clear!” someone finally yelled.
“I’m clear this way!” another barked.
“Who’s here with you?” the man standing over Candace asked.
“
Nobody! I’m by myself! Please get off of me! I’m pregnant
.”
“Hold on, toots.
We all clear
?” he yelled in another direction.
“
All clear!
”
“
We clear!
”
“
I’m clear!
”
“
All clear!
”
The frantic pace slowed considerably then. The cops started to trickle back into the living room one by one. Candace shivered frantically and watched their shoes. She focused on one set in particular as they ambled towards her. These feet were different than the rest of the tactical squad. They were clad in peach-colored Stacy Adams rather than dark tennis. Khaki slacks shot up from them instead of black trousers.
“Let her up.”
The metal was removed from the side of Candace’s head. She strained her neck to look up at the man in charge. He sported a long-sleeved white shirt that was tucked into his slacks. He wore a big, Texas-sized belt buckle. There was a badge clipped to his belt, but no gun. He was handsome and clean-shaven with short hair. Candace thought he looked a lot like Mark Wahlberg. She wondered if he would call her a nigger or punch one of her eyes out of its socket like Mark Wahlberg was known to do.
“Please. I’m pregnant,” she breathed.
“She’s pregnant. Let her up.”
The guy in the white shirt seemed to be her savior, but Candace suspected this was only his
good cop
routine. The man standing over her reached down and helped Candace into a standing position. With a firm hand on her shoulder, he eased her down until she was sitting on the couch again.